Gene's Greek Dream

When Gene and I got married the first thing I did was clean his closets. Among other stuff of strange origin I found a torn sheepskin patch. "Where is the rest?" I asked. "Moth," he said. The patch was carefully wrapped in a cotton cloth and smelled like moth-balls. It looked important so I demanded an explanation.

In 1969 my 19 year old future husband parked his bug somewhere in Philadelphia and flew to Athens, with his college roommate Ron, to hitch-hike the cradle of "Western Civilization." Gene and Ron made it to the Oracle of Delphi where they almost got arrested for touching a sacred statue, to Corinth where they had their first dose of retsina, to the island of Mykonos on a boat with a herd of sheep, and all the way to Rhodes and back again. One morning in the valley below Delphi they were awakened at dawn by the herd of sheep that had moved in during the early morning. As they crawled out of their sleeping bags, an old Greek shepherd wearing a patched sheepskin vest, golden brown in the rays of the rising sun, white trim matching the fur of his flock, motioned for them to follow. Soon all three were sitting at a cozy little campfire eating a simple Greek breakfast of bread and cheese, in silence; neither could speak the other's language. This quiet meal shared with a total stranger, and the primordial simplicity and peacefulness of the moment, was to become the most profound of all Gene's Greek discoveries. Powerful experiences demand powerful symbols.

Back in America, Gene kept thinking about the shepherd and his vest. For several years any one of Gene's friends who traveled anywhere near Greece received a standing request to bring him back a real Greek sheepskin vest. Finally, in l974, Sally, upon returning from Israel, succeeded in fulfilling this garment obsession--although not Greek, a sheepskin vest it was. Gene proudly wore his vest to rock concerts and demonstrations. It lived with him at the squash commune in Canada, survived the Nixon impeachment, the ending of the Vietnam War, and the beginning of the War on Drugs. . And then came a career in Real Estate and business and the sheepskin went into the trunk and lived there among the bellbottoms, army jackets, and moths for 10 years. Only the little patch made it into the 90's.

Well, it took me five years to find Gene an authentic Greek sheepskin vest just like he remembered it , soft and warm, golden brown suede, white fur. We like to give each other "It's what I've always wanted" gifts. I bought myself a vest too. Everyone who sees them wants one. We have no choice but to get them for everybody.

Incidentally, the VW bug that was parked in Philadelphia was stolen while Gene and Ron were in Greece, never to be found again. This year we also got a 1968 green bug, but not the same one. We named it Merton in honor of Thomas Merton, who lived at the Trappist Monastery not far from here. But that's another story; I doubt we'll ever sell VWs over the net.