Douglas Robinson Pickett; 1929-2011

 

 

“Big Doug”, as we called him in the family, died while sleeping on November 30, of heart failure.  Many of you will remember Doug while he and Ann ran Ridgewood when we were chutes, or from his years with WOSA.  We called him “Big Doug” to differentiate him from my brother Doug who was 31 years his junior.  But Doug was always big in heart, soul, integrity, and humor as well.

Doug was my childhood idol and my first memories of him are when he blew into our home in Detroit when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade.  He had spent the summer break from Ohio Wesleyan working on the Alaskan Railroad and his clothes were so dirty and crusted they stood up by themselves!  I was thrilled that he shared my bedroom during his visit.

Doug was a super uncle to all of us and he became a good friend and mentor during my adult life.  We will miss him greatly.

Services will be held at 3 PM on Saturday, December 10, at the Highland Ranch retirement center in Black Mountain, NC.  Friends are welcome to attend.

RIP, Dan Terry (Woodstock Class of 1965)

Dan Terry was a schoolmate of mine at Woodstock, a classmate of my sister Jessie (class of '65).  He and 9 other members of his group were lined up and executed 2 days ago by the Taliban while on a medical mission to a remote area of Afghanistan.  Dan devoted his professional life to the poor in Afghanistan and was one of their best friends.  He lived there with his family through the Russian occupation, civil war, the Taliban era of rule, and now the American led war against the Taliban.  The killing of Dan & his colleagues was senseless and stupid, and I hope that we, including the Taliban and those fighting them, will learn from their deaths.

I remember Dan from my Woodstock years, but I didn't know him well.  These quotes and links will describe him and his work much better than I could do:

First, today's Huffington Post story from AP:  click here and read down through the middle of the article where Dan is discussed.

Second, here's a quote from one of Dan's emails to the chair of this year's organizing committee for Woodstock's annual reunion.  We were hoping Dan could participate somehow in the reunion as a workshop leader discussing global citizenship and how Woodstock prepared him for the work he has been doing in Afghanistan.  His response tells us a lot about his remarkable qualities as a human being, the strategy that guided his work, and his love for the people he served:

"Eager to participate in any such related discussion.  I'm far from 'keynote' material but would readily participate in panel presentation and open floor discussion.  My schedule is uncertain but would likely necessarily override any commitment I could make.  So I could only be a raincheckee on this.  A Woodstock venue would be far easier for me than Wash DC.

It's urgent to appreciate and put to immediate use experience and insight found within and with context of the greater Woodstock community...in promoting 'doing as we talking'.  In Afghanistan I feel less intimidated, dispossessed,  the less I intimidate or hold in contempt.  More enfranchised the more I enfranchise.   Opposite numbers or catagorical enemies have rescued me and more than my marbles again and again.  There is new testimony to share to provide new context when so much of the time we disastrously just are not getting it out there!  Actually invest in the 'bad guys' and they tend to disappear (as such).  Allow us to re-invent ourselves.  Allow us to change the color and wrap of our lungi turbans...just let us get close!  In our heart of hearts its actually much more fun to just hang out with you than kosher your throat.  So count me in in theory and principle at least!   --Dan Terry"

Third, here's a quote from an email sent to friends of Dan's by a Woodstock alumnus on whom Dan had a great impact.  Gil Halsted, who authored this email, currently works for NPR in Wisconsin.

Dear Friends of Dan Terry,

I am still in shock, though truth be told since the war began almost nine years ago  now I expected this. Dan is the reason I came to Woodstock to spend my senior year of high school there. It was through his eyes and the eyes of Ruth and their parents that my view of the world changed radically in the summer of 1970 when I drove overland from Europe to India and back in a VW bus. With us on the trip over were Dan, George Taylor,  my father, and a classmate of Dan's from Baker  College whose name I've forgotten. I remember that drive across Afghanistan both ways as if it was yesterday. Pulling into Herat and seeing a parade of dusty and bedraggled hippies shuffling along through the bazaar, and mischievous young Afghan boys winking at  me as they offered to sell me hashish. On the way back with Dan's entire family, a Peace Corps volunteer and one of Ruth's classmates whose names I have forgotten, we went through Bamiyan getting there via roads some of which were half washed out or partially blocked by landslides. I climbed to the top of the huge, now non existent, Buddhas. Dan and that trip to India and back rocked my world. I have never been the same. I mourn with all of you for the loss of this shy, kind, adventurous and  gentle spirit. I searched the web yesterday to try to find out if Dan was among those killed and felt relieved when I couldn't find his name associated with any of the reports. It was a terrible blow to receive this note confirming his death.

Gil

Reunions

There are two groups that I thoroughly enjoy "reunioning" with:  classmates and alumni of Woodstock School, located in Mussoorie, in the middle hills of the Indian Himalaya; and former Nepal Peace Corps volunteers.  Both carry strong bonds of long-term but intermittent friendship so easily rekindled, shared experiences of both the best and the gruesome of youth in relatively unique situations, and a strong dose of living together among some of the most awesome landscapes to be seen.  Sometimes I find it a bit odd that I have no such enthusiasm for reunions of the Connecticut high school class I actually graduated with, my Adrian College undergraduate class, or my Stanford MBA class.  Lots of shared experiences there during formative years, but...

Two weeks ago I hosted 11 classmates and two brave wives of the 1963 graduating class of Woodstock.  Almost guiltily I admit there were moments (when I was hosing out my bachelor-grungy frig or on the third day of power-washing my dock in 99 degree heat) when I wondered what possessed me to volunteer for such a thing.  But as my classmates arrived I knew immediately why; it became so obvious.  These were friends, good friends and we were immediately very comfortable with one another though I hadn't seen several since I left Woodstock after my sophomore year of high school .  We may not have been great friends back in the 4th grade or the 7th grade or the 9th; we may not have even liked each other very much, though some of us were best buddies.  But we're friends now, by golly, and it's a bit of nice wonder that in our older years we find such satisfaction and fulfillment in the years of our youth.

Immediately following our three days together here most of us went up the road to Leesburg, VA where the Woodstock Old Students Association (WOSA) sponsored a two-day school reunion at the National Conference Center.  More good stuff, with alumni ranging from the graduating classes of the 1930s on into this decade.  It was here that my mother, who graduated from Woodstock in 1935, and my aunt (class of 1942) were remembered along with 42 other alumni who passed away during the past 12 months since the last WOSA reunion.  It was here that 250 gathered for a delicious Indian meal, heard the Indian ambassador to the US address us, and sang -- from memory -- the Indian national anthem for her in return.  It was here that we participated in an interfaith celebration of life, watched outstanding Indian movies, heard fellow distinguished alumni speak to the conference theme of Global Citizenship and how Woodstock prepared them to be such.  It was here that we heard 40 of the group come together with 2 rehearsals as a marvelous choir conducted by Vance George (a former Woodstock music teacher and, for 23 years, the conductor of the San Francisco Symphony Chorus) who most surely knows how to get golden vocals from the throats of largely very occasional singers.  And it was here that we closed the session with an hour of story telling -- war stories and jokes (most not very PC) and embarrassing moments and touching tales that changed a life or two.

Oh Woodstock, how special you are!