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Peter Black

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Peter Black
Camper from 1958 - 1969

Peter Black 1965

      I went off to college and left school to experience freedom and life. I held various hard labor type jobs, fell in love/lust with many females, and experienced life events. Mid seventies I met and married my grownup friend who has tolerated and coached me through many adult passages.

      Professionally, I have been a lucky social worker having interacted with so many people and situations. I have learned more than I have given and managed to stay employed all these years. I have always practiced on the front line of municipal service where 'to manage the system you have to be a part of the system.'

      I have one son, who eerily has patterned many of his life movements similar to mine. I always made sure my arms were and are around him. He is a veterinarian in Wyoming.

      I am still married after thirty eight years and my wife is still the grownup. My life secret: remain a UL, let my wife make major decisions, stay off the radar screen and move stealthily with my movements.

      To all of you Hyde Bayers that I have loved and lost contact with, I want to thank you for all you given/shared with me, and that you tolerated me.

      Fat Pierre Peter Black 2009

Remembrances of Hyde Bay Camp

      July 1961 Mouldy asked to see me after morning announcements. I was 13 on this typical glimmer glass day beaming with sun. I met Mouldy in the sore shoppe. Mouldy had a tear in his eye and had the burden of telling me that my mom had suddenly died.

       My world just became empty. He held me and those big burly arms which gave me assurance that we were going to get through this crisis. Hyde Bay took on a very different meaning that day. It became my safe and serene harbor for the rest of my life.

       I was and still am what is now known as an ADHD kid, so days were filled with wandering, experiencing the typical defeats and few victories. The one anchor that was consistent through my rather turbulent adolescence was camp. I knew that June 21 meant I was reunited with Jolly, Shoe bibs, Rickey, Rusty, Freddy, Hillsy, Dougie, Scottie, and the list is long. It meant I was on land that was loving and safe where I knew every path to the stable and the ball field. I knew that I could pass a double A test, jump from the bridge, play against and beat Chenango at Doubleday.

       Then I successfully navigated my first real life passage: I became a counselor. I was now expected to fill the shoes of those counselors who went before me; Dougie, Big John, Flur, Hawkeye, and the list again is long. I was under the pressure to achieve some of the following;

1) beat Chenango as well as other teams,
2) beat Chenango with Flur at their helm,
3) make sure no one drowns during greased watermelon games,
4) keep my tent kids safe and engaged,
5) remember my line for Saturday night,
6) stealthily float my car into place at 3 a.m.,
And the list is l---o-----n-------g.

       And now at the age of 62 I still think about June 21 and all that was good, healthy, and safe. The years have past, memories remain, some become distorted. Oh, but those big, burly Mouldy arms still hold me giving guidance.

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