Peter Caroline
I was Dry-Kye 1949-1952. I have some photos tucked away (Union River, above; see more below), which I’ll send you, with all guilty parties identified. The attached photo shows me on my Honda Shadow. I lost a dispute with gravity on it a couple of years ago and broke my leg in three places, so now I’m riding a Vespa clone (a man has to know his limitations). Best to you and the rest of the Dry-Kye alums! - email
From: wehriam@cox.net
To: drykye@comcast.net
Sent: 2021-02-09 12:31:33 PM
Subject: Re: Dry Kye album
Hi, Tommy - Many thanks for loaning me the album. I’ll return it ASAP.
As I mentioned before, Camp Dry Kye made a big difference in my life, shaping my future. The camp was my first real encounter with truly international cuisine, thanks to a master chef, Indian counselors and a Greek kitchen staff.
My previous experience with “foreign” dishes was an occasional visit to a Chinese restaurant in Brookline with my parents. Today, I’m a fearless explorer of exotic restaurants, and I seek out unusual recipes for my own culinary attempts.
Ben changed my whole outlook on life. He gave me an appreciation of opera and classical music, and encouraged an attitude of skepticism and questioning established authority (i.e. heightened bullshit awareness). The camp’s NRA Junior Marksmanship Program spurred my lifelong interest in firearms and my later lucrative career writing for the firearms industry.
I recall, some years ago, recounting some of my Dry Kye experiences in a conversation with some proper “Jewish-American Princess.” The lady was aghast, and stated that today Ben Kimball would go to prison for such activities. I replied that she was most likely correct, and that was more a condemnation of today’s liberal attitudes than of Ben himself.
I was delighted to see photos of the fledgling Amonasro, and Swaroop’s notorious BSA motorcycle and yours truly’s first of a collection of silly hats. I recognized you and the Janis boys, and David Ogden, Tommy Desmond, Dickie Cates, et al.
I’d love to get together with you all, but I don’t travel by air any more (see “bullshit awareness” above), so perhaps in a better world to come.
Sei gesundt (Bronx Indian for “Be well”),
Peter
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Below is a bunch of photos I found and transferred to disk. They’re all from 1949, except the photo of Ben and Betty, which was taken in 1951. The pistol was an old Stevens .22 single-shot I brought to camp with me (try doing that today!). Ben and Betty are standing next to a Nash woodie which was the camp bus in 1951. In 1949, we had a Model A Ford sedan (wish I had it today!). As you can see, our camp accommodations back then at the Mariaville location were rather rather primitive. One tent for the campers, and Ben and Betty lived in the cabin, where we took our meals on the front porch. Every kid had his own tin cup for bellywash. Across the road from the old camp was Harry Goodwin’s farm. Many adventures there!
I have a bunch of photos of the 1987 Reunion, plus a copy of the old camp brochure, which I illustrated. I also have a bunch of old b&w negatives of the camp, and I’ll have to find some place to print them.
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