Revisiting Woodstock

Steve Van Rooy '68 recently came to India with his wife Judy for two purposes: 1. to attend his 40th class reunion at Woodstock and, 2. to visit Dharchula where he lived for several years with his parents. He wrote an extensive reflection on this trip. Below are excerpts about the reunion.

I recently went back to India for a 40th Woodstock reunion. What follows is a write up I did as soon as I got back to share with the rest of the class who did not attend. It may encompass more detail about that than you care to know about, and if so, you are perfectly welcome to skip right on by it!

Anne Riddle Loan and her husband, Richard, were already in Mussoorie when we arrived, along with Mark Blosser and his wife Debbie. Indu Dayal showed up on time-a most amazing re-connection after 46 years. Miss Cowan.ooops, Janette (old habits are hard to break, but that is what she insisted we call her) and her husband Colin Blair were also ensconced at the Quad and Tom and Carol (Evans) Alter made their own way to their own place by Sunday. Max Marble showed up Tuesday with his wife Sally.

The venue for us was not the school itself but Ashton Court, the last house on the left before Jaberkhet as you walk out on Tehri Road. Only now Ashton Court is no more (demolished) and in its place is The Hanifl Centre, a gift from Sue Turner Hanifl ('63) and her husband.

Here is what we did. We spent most of Monday catching up with each other, each one sharing for as long as they pleased, which was followed up by questions and (of course), comments like, "I remember when.", or "Remember when you..". Monday evening Steve Alter invited us to dinner at Oakville. Bob and Ellen Alter, his folks, were also there. They have completely re-done the place and it is lovely.

Tuesday morning started at 6 AM with breakfast at the Mt. Hermon Flat. Here we watched the sunrise and the snows come out. It was a bit overcast, but still the view was excellent. We then ambled down to Tom and Carol's cottage on the Oakville Estate where their cook had stoked a very nice fire. Their living room was plenty adequate for all of us, and very cozy. We continued sharing, interspersed with tea of course. Always lots of tea. And then off for Char Dukan. This is that little shopping area with a couple of tea stalls right there by St. Paul's. We used to call it Kushi Rams. Times change and names change. On the way over I ducked into Sisters Bazaar and paid my respects to Anil and his father, Mr. Prakash. Same guy, looks just the same. The store itself is spruced up a bit but if you stumbled into it in a Sci-Fi Time Warp you would recognize it. As a group, then we finished up lunch and walked the Childer's chukkar (the big one). A very pleasant stroll.

When we were just above Bothwell Bank I asked Carol if she thought Sanjay (Narang '81) would mind if we went down to have a look. We had been told he had remodeled the place. That, dear reader, is an understatement. I knew Bothwell Bank well. The Warrens lived there for years. And then the Bowdishes. And we were there a lot. Bible Club was held there. And I was flat curious.

So down Carol and I and a couple of others went. Sanjay was in and he graciously offered to show us around. It was stunning. Gone was the two-foot thick wall that encased a small cemented area where we roller skated or where we stood gazing out over the Doon. In its place? An inch thick plate glass that is a touch of class and which enhances the great view-one of the best on the hillside.

The porch is now enclosed. He welcomed us inside. He kept most of the rooms as original as possible, even to keeping the oak beams. When chipping away at the walls they uncovered a beautiful stonewall with arched doorways and they kept that. I took pictures. Thought the Warrens and Bowdishes might like to see it as it is now.

And on to Oakville where we were served dinner. Again the cozy living room. It was Tom's turn to share as he was leaving later the next morning. After dinner Tom called the room to attention. He asked that the lights be turned out except the lamp by his chair. Two candles were lit. In the ensuing two hours Tom put on an extraordinary show-a showcase of six or so types of things he has done in theatre, interspersed with stories, a recitation of some of the movies he has been in, segueing seamlessly and effortlessly from one to the next, telling anecdotes of meeting Sir Peter O'Toole, weaving different textures into a well designed tapestry. He whispered. He leaned forward, clothed himself in the next role, leaned back and held forth. He shouted. He was an old man. Then a young man. He was waiting for Godot. He was an Urdu poet. He did the last ten minutes of a two and a half hour soliloquy that was written just for him by Mohammad Sayeed Alam, Professor at Aligarh University, about Mauluma Abdul Kalam Azad (friend of Gandhi, freedom fighter, not in favor of a divided India). The whole thing is Azad dictating and talking to his secretary and confidant Humayun Kabir (who is off stage). In Urdu. The candles were melting to the nub. The electricity had gone off a couple times and Tom never noticed . And no one knew what to do. Do you clap? No. No one was quite sure. The mood was subdued as we took our leave, each one thanking him, hugs from many. It had been magic. Incredible in fact.

Wednesday morning, at 6 AM sharp, we headed out by taxi, all of us, to Dhanaulti-twenty something kilometers along Tehri Road-- for breakfast. It takes about an hour to drive out and we had a lovely breakfast at one of the several "resorts" that have sprung up there. In fact, the place we ate at had a urinal that had one of those automatic flush sensors on it. Uptown. First Class. Incredible. This was the place where we took a hunting block for two weeks in December my Junior and Senior year when no one knew where this place was. Hotels? Resorts?

We had lunch, then, at the school, followed by a tour of the place by Maija Prakash from the alumni office. We had fun hop, skip and jumping through the old classrooms around the quad-each one evoking memorable events, class teachers, and just where Scotty Davis was standing when he jabbed Miss Etts with a pencil in her rather ample belly. And then up the ramp to the high school area. All the same. All different. Up to the gym. Work is finally getting started.again. The construction was in limbo for years. It now costs something like $18K to attend Woodstock and the money shows-the place looks super, everything is nice, painted, and in good order. But I don't think we suffered in those days because it wasn't.

Judy Smith Crider ('69) met us and we had a chat about the changes she has seen. She and her husband, Dana, have been there nearly thirty years now. Wow. And Polly Peterson ('70) is there, and Jeff Rollins ('76). And Sue Scott Swanson ('67) and her husband are also on Staff at Woodstock these days. Dale Seefeldt ('64) teaches Hindi. And lo and behold, Linda Garst and her husband dropped in on us at Hanifl. Interesting, isn't it?

Thursday morning we all headed to the buz. What fun. A literal walk down memory lane. Abhinandan the tailor used to be right..there. Vitals store there, now gone (now three shops, in fact). Doma's there. Monkeys there. Wait, they still are. The top shop. And on down to Picture Palace. We all converged here, trudged up Kulri to the Kashmir handicrafts place. And on to where the original Kwality's was for a lunch of "Punjabi special"-a specialty Carol introduced us to. Then across to the Cambridge bookstore. Then up to where the second place Kwality's used to be, but on the second level that had been built on top of it, to Café Coffee Day. Great brownies. Wonderful conversation. Memories. Queries. Answers. Sharing. There was no end of it all week. We had to leave the next morning. And it was..over.

Much has changed in India. Much has remained the same. For me the obvious changes were: more cars, more pollution, brighter colors in what the women wear, more women wearing jeans and a tee shirt, cars actually stopping at stop lights now, less paan and less spitting, more trees on all the mountains, fewer dogs on the street, far more variety of cars and the old Ambassador is clearly a dying species, less bargaining and more "fixed price" signs, cement structures are overwhelming traditionally built houses, virtually all signs over shops in cities are in English and once out of the city mostly in Hindi..and I could go on. A wonderful trip, all in all. In fact, one of the best I have ever taken.

Steve Van Rooy, November 2008