Thirteen years ago, I devoted many late night writing sessions to a long short story, or short long story, loosely structured around the serving of a single lunch on the guest side of the Boiberik dining room, circa 1977.
I called it Station Two.
Because I wrote it on my first Apple Computer, the story was stored in digital format, on a disc, somewhere in my basement.
When Mitch Resnick launched the Boiberik Web Site last spring (or was it during the fall of 1997?), he encouraged me to forward that story to him for inclusion in the nascent Boiberik archive. Which I did.
Last week, I received an unexpected email from Alan Kasmir, a Boiberikaner who stands out very distinctly in my camp memories. (As an EM I stuck around to watch the Elste Boys' softball throw on Mazel Tov Day that, for some reason, was held on the Elste field long after nearly everyone had marched up to the dining room for lunch. The ball sailed so incredibly high and far, like a Tiger Woods drive, that I stood agape, wondering how anyone, let alone a fifteen-year-old boy, could have such a cannon for a right arm.)
Now, where was I? Yeah, okay. Kasmir thanked me for including him in a digressive excursion within Station Two, all about a visit to the Hole when I was a YE (1970). As the story goes, Kasmir, a DR worker at the time, was sound asleep in a room filled in pot paraphernalia when Sidney Cohen and I ventured into this den of squalor.
Alan, who is now a responsible parent, informed me last week that he does not want his kids reading this and assuming that he was a pothead in those days, especially because he was, in fact, squeaky clean.
So let me publicly apologize for the creative liberties I took in writing that story. It was partially true, mostly conceivable based on the camp milieu in the late 1970's and, unfortunately, completely inaccurate in some areas. I've now learned that Kasmir was libeled. Apologies to anyone else whom I inadvertently slighted in this way.
Station Two Home Page
Camp Boiberik Home Page