I arrived at college and promptly fell victim to the "folk scare".
The Kingston Trio looked really cool, in their striped shirts and topsiders, and the lissome Joan Baez in faded jeans, man's white shirt, and her impossibly clear soprano, was irresistible.
Of course Mary, and the other two guys...oh yeah...and what about Ian and Sylvia, and Tom Rush, and The Journeymen and some scruffy dude named Bobby Dylan...well anyway you get the drift. I was hopelessly hooked on folk music, and I still am, in 2017.
As soon as I got home for the summer, I went directly to Ray Costello's music store, in Geneva, NY, and purchased a Stella Six string for twelve bucks.
Mr. Costello, threw in a free chord book, and voila...I was a folksinger.
Naturally, a folk group was inevitable.
The Voyagers were born, on the dock, of Jack Gallagher's fabled Pinehurst Inn, on Cayuga Lake.
Skip Major, Dave Withers and Jim Clare (me) reveled in three truly unforgettable summers as The Voyagers, before college graduation, and events of the turbulent sixties overtook us, and we went off to figuratively conquer the world, each in his own respective fashion.
These days, I play a nicer guitar, and I've learned another chord or two, but the music is just as fresh and new to me, as it was at the 1963 Newport Folk Festival.
Maybe the greatest unexpected gift that folk music has given me, is the priceless network of friends made along the way...oddly, my friends appear to have aged a tad...but that's a minor concession to the passage of time. For a dyed in the wool folkie like me, the music is timeless, weaving its tapestry that's always new, yet somehow always familiar.
Tomorrow I plan to learn another chord...maybe...but tomorrow is another day.
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