Color War General Norman Kent
Finds Strength in Enduring Friendships

As we approach the summer of 1999, I vividly remember the summer of 1969. In the summer of 1969, I was fighting to win a Color War. In the summer of 1999, I am fighting to stay alive.

It was my first summer at Camp Kendale, but the experiences and friendships not only endure today, they strengthen me in my battle against a deadly cancer of the lymphoma. When you unexpectedly fall ill, and the world around you seems to be crumbling, few things matter outside of Good Humor ice cream cones and the love and support of your friends and family. Actually, it was me, not the world, that was crumbling. The world is going to stay here, with or without me. So I figure to continue to make the most of it while I am here. And the friendships I made three decades ago are providing me with an inner spiritual revival. It is either that or the hydroponics, I am not sure yet which.

I recall the summer of 1969 not to be just the summer of Woodstock but a summer of Lenny Tucker and Fabulous Fribbles at folksy 'Friendlies'; a summer of Green Army vs. White Navy, but my team really blew the Color War Sing, not to mention creating the worst Color War plaque in the history of all summer camps. In fact, if there is a reunion, at the camp, I am going to have it redone no matter what it costs. Any good artists out there ? How much does this bother me ? More than watching Richie Comiter beat me in softball, this still slowly eats at me day by day, month by month, year by year. My psychologist says losing Color War causes cancer in Jewish adults. If Roger Slade had not told me the Statute of Limitations had passed, why I would sue someone. But I digress.

Actually, one of the greatest moments of my life to this day was having my team lift me and carry me around the campus after the games had ended. It was a truly beautiful experience that I will always cherish. Now if only Rosner and Quint hadn't dropped me...

Each summer at Kendale was a chance for us to meet new friends, that we now see today, would bond for decades. Time passes, and physical distances pull and drift us apart, and yet now the Internet is unforgivably linking us together. We are having a loving reunion in cyberspace. Now if Mark Friedberg wants to see Sheryl Rubloff or Vicki Littman he and Ronnie Zucker do not have to raid their bunks. As a counselor, I was not supposed to approve of raids. But Lenny Tucker called me a fourteenth camper. He was right. My idea of punishment for a raid was to make the campers tell the whole bunk about it the next day. Susan Rosenberg was going to tell the whole camp by recall, so what the hell.

Still, I must confide in you that Larry Sachs and Mitch Lemus never could make hospital corners. Now, thirty years later I wonder well what the hell hospital corners were for anyway. Didn't they ever hear of fitted sheets ? Speaking of beds, did Cathy Ladman become a nurse or is she still trying to tell jokes ?

Albert Camus, who often wrote about adversity, once penned the words: "In the midst of a devastating winter, I found within me an invincible summer.." The love I have for living perpetuates my optimism, and it has been supported by so many people who have been close to me for so many years, and some, thank goodness, who have not :) The letters of love that I have been receiving are as healing as much as any chemotherapy treatments I have been enduring. Well, except for that one letter from Scott Nigro who asked for three decades of interest on a Color War bet I lost.

So without embarrassing you by mentioning your names, thanks for having been there when it counts most. Thanks for the calls that brought me back to the tetherball court where I slipped and fell into the mud, and thanks for reminding me I once hit a ball on top of the field house. Thanks for reminding me of Camp Kendale. Thanks for reminding me I almost missed Woodstock because I had O.D. after a day off. In fact I have a dog now named Woodstock. He's a lab with that sad face look, not unlike Howie Rosenblum, as I recall :)

I am lucky to have friends like you; lucky to have had the Camp Kendale experience. Mitch Strauss was right years ago. It was not the quality of the basketball courts or perfect lines in the field house or trimmed baseball fields that would make camp special. It was each other. We had the mojo, baby. We had it back then, and apparently we still have it today. Spirits live long after lives pass. Does anyone from 1969-72 not remember the spirit, the soul, and the smile of Gary Lapidus?

In 1969, an entire camp gathered in the Field House to watch a black and white 13 inch tv as an American landed on the moon. And I recall his first words were: "I want more Free Play.." The messages on this site tell me that the summer of 1999 will provide as many memories as the summers of 1969 and 1979 have, and that is, to use a term from 1969, well... Groovy, baby.

Renew the spirit and greet each other with the hearts of the children you now have. Do not ever be afraid to be a kid again. I knew you when you were, and you were good people then. You are better now. Besides, if you have lived a stressed-out material American life, as most of us tend to do, somewhere inside you is a little kid yearning to break free. When you reach that soul of souls, you will find the liberating spirit that you have been seeking; that draws you back to this site. Robin Pomerantz knows this. It turns out she has been hiding all the secrets of life for the past quarter-century. She is the Force. Call her immediately. She also has a secret recipe for Willimantic Chocolate Pudding Pie.