The Voyageur and I have both commented previously that it is impossible to capture all that was Ranger Robert "Bob" Newton in a post, no matter how long or well thought out. So I won't try. Here's a short story:
About 2003 or 4, a few years past my camp staff tenure I went on a trip to the Adirondacks with the Weebs. I can't recall if this is the one where we hiked in and around Pharoah or where we went canoeing up every thin blue line on the canoe map that read, "not navigable." Either way our trips to the 'Daks in the Summer usually ended up with a stay at camp on either end.
Driving around Brant Lake, we had just passed the colorful waterfall and the general store (Darby's) when we saw a familiar figure walking down the road. Now Bob was getting on in age and while most of us thought of him as invincible he had recently had a heart attack and retired from camp. So the figure we saw was unmistakably Bob, but a bit stooped over, and wearing only sneakers and gym shorts - the short cotton variety with the one white stripe that my Mom made me wear in 6th grade. And he was ambling down the middle of the road.
I pulled over next to him and said, "Boy, they'll let anybody on these roads, won't they?" I thought I was being pretty clever. He came slowly over to the car, leaned in to look at us through the window, I think he took a second to recall who we were, got a twinkle in his eye, stared straight at me, smiled and said, "They sure will, won't they?" And ambled off down the road. Ba-Zinga!
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