Bye Cam

 

Kristen/Kelpie here: Cameron Taylor was of the Scots diaspora and a friend of mine. He and I often spoke of his love of Lallans, the old Scots language of his boyhood. He tried to teach me how to roll my r’s, at my request. We would often tease each other in the hammock shop, and listen to music, and play guessing games. He was partial to tango. I’m partial to folk, especially that of the British Isles.  Cam was a boy in the land where Robert Burns lived, near Dumfries and Ayrshire in Scotland. He was born Kenneth Taylor, and changed his first name to honor his mother’s clan. His father died in WW2, and he moved to Argentina with his mother. Now, of course, I wish I could remember more of what he told me. I’ve written here a short account of what I do remember.

Cameron had a passion for kayaks, and for the people of Greenland, who taught him ocean kayaking, fishing, and their way of life when he was a young man. He put together his memoirs of this time: [what’s the link?-ed] I enjoyed hearing about his times in Greenland. Several times he pointed out the young woman he loved there, and the wondrous times he had in the North. During his later years, at Twin Oaks Community, he built a traditional kayak, which he donated to a museum, [fact check: ask Kevin] after spending time traveling with it. He also spent many days kayaking on local lakes, especially with Kevin.

Cameron the kayaker

Before Cam came to Twin Oaks, he was an anthropologist. In addition to his time in Greenland, he spent time with the Yanomami in Brazil. He and his wife studied their culture, and he learned the language. I remember he brought a Yanomami hammock to our hammock shop, to show us. We marveled that anyone could balance on one of them, much less sleep! It consisted of strands of strong fibrous plant material, maybe bark, in parallel, knotted on both ends. One year, he asked to go to the Yanomami to help vaccinate them, as part of an interna because they were under immediate threat of disease. Twin Oakers were proud to help him on this journey.

Cameron was also our Dairy Manager for a while, and was responsible for getting the loafing shed built, so our cows could have a place out of the sun. He also found and brought Dexter, a border collie, who helped immensely with herding.

Cam and Dexter to herding dog

And of course, he made hammocks, and taught us how to make hammocks. I remember his infinite patience with this. I often had to ask him for help, and he was always willing to give it.

One of my most fond memories is watching a meteor shower with Cameron, camping out by the grapevines, drinking from a bottle, and listening to him sing a long funny song from his childhood. I tried to get him to sing it again, later, in the hammock shop, when we were sober, but he wouldn’t.

I don’t remember why we decided to celebrate Burns Night dinners, but I do remember Cameron being an important resource for verisimilitude and delight. We had three, I think, in a space of four years. Cam inspired us to make haggis, a delicious (no! really!) lamb and oats sausage, and a main ingredient of the dinner served usually Jan 25, celebrating the works of Rabbie Burns, and all things Scottish, which included whiskies, poetry, singing, and merriment, and a band. Cam requested My Love Is Like a Red Red Rose, so we learned it, as well as a few other classic Burns hits, like Green Grow the Rushes Oh. Thankfully, we didn’t record ourselves. Cameron read aloud a section of Tam O’Shanter, Burns’s funny hero poem, which needed translating for the modern American audience. Cameron, always the considerate teacher, obliged.

Thanks for reading this long ramble. I hope Cameron would be happy with it. I can still hear his laugh. Cameron’s lovely, always, in my memory. He’s stubborn, argumentative, caring and wise. A wit and always ready with a story. I miss him.

Bye Cam

Bye for noo, Milo

from Your Passport to Complaining, December 11, 2017

Milo McTavish has gone to the other side.  He was an extraordinary man.

 

milo

Over the life of this blog, I have written about him several times.  About his work as a wandering electrician and his taste for highland Scotch whiskey.  He was part of the crew which started the Karass Inn.  And there are several tales we are not allowed to tell about this old friend.

What is well known about him is that he helped out the communities movement a whole bunch in a number of places.   I worked occasionally as his travel agent, getting him from worthy project to ambitious startup.  He went to Missouri, Colorado, Virginia, Vermont and New York on his nomadic crafts person adventure.  Never by plane, mostly by train.  He preferred to do things right, but he could always work within the budgets of these sometimes struggling entities. This versatility was a big part of why he was so valuable.  All he would ask for, besides our regular room and board was Scotch whiskey.

 

Dalmor Whisky

As important as his work was, Milo will be remembered for his slightly larger than life character.  He was a wild card – “a disrupter” long before that term was popular.  Cantankerous and boisterous, he always had a story (often of Kenya where he came of age or Her Majesties Merchant Navy) and time to listen to yours.   He was also an excellent teacher and shared his skills with numerous communards, some of whom required a fair bit of patience to train.   He was a hard-partying, proud pagan.  Milo had loud opinions about many a thing and had no fear in telling you how uninformed you were on almost any subject where he knew more than you, which was likely most topics.

Milo was a missionary.  He rescued a failing health food coop in Norfolk and managed it with his then-wife Susan.  They ran it together for 5 years.  He canvassed for the Rain Forest Action Network and CalPIRG.  He even worked with the Dolphin Research Lab in Florida.   He had been a cop and occasionally on the other side of the law.   He complained loudly about what he called  “the 3 monos of the world”:  Monoculture, Monotheism, and Monogamy.

 

Milo and took

Milo was often the life of the party.  And with his passing, some of that party is gone as well.

But Milo would not want us mourning his passing, he would want us to party harder.  There will be one this weekend (12/16) in Norfolk and next weekend (12/23) at the Pizza Stone in Chester, Vermont to remember him.  Contact me if you want more details on these events.

[Milo’s family of choice is trying to get in touch with Milo’s Scotish family to inform them of his passing.  If you have any leads on this, please contact me by email (paxus at twin oaks dot org) or comment on this blog post.]

Bye for noo, Milo