Lyfting Me Up

In the Spring of 1965 an announcement went out over the East High PA.  “We are announcing that we are accepting applications for our 1965-66 American Field Service exchange student host family”. I remember thinking, “Wow that might be fun but they would never pick my family”. That night at dinner I don’t know what possessed me to say it out loud, but I shared the announcement with my family. My mom said almost immediately “That could be special”. My dad agreed. I remember thinking “They would never pick my crazy family”. 

There was an interview process—yes, like a social service home visit. There were 14 families that were applying for the privilege to host a complete stranger for a year. After the interview I was sure we didn’t stand a chance. I was convinced my gregarious dad was too much, and my weird little brothers were dweebs. In June when I returned from camp my mom said, “We were selected and this packet came from AFS”. There he was, Paul Lecocq from Hasselt, Belgium”. I thought “Belgium. It is small and only has waffles. Why not someone from Italy or France?”. His picture had some guy in a suit with a sullen face.  

In the middle of August my folks went to Denver to pick him up. I was working at the family “sweat shop” 60 hours a week. He was there when I got home. “He’s in the basement. Go down and meet him”. We shared a big bedroom there. I walked into the room and Paul was sitting on his bed. He was wearing a suit and pointy shoes. My first thought was “This is going to be the longest year of my life”. It turned out to be one of the best years of my life.  

Within two days Paul had a new wardrobe of Madras shirts, cord Levis, and black Converse tennis shoes. He was asked to try out as the kicker for the football team. He was spectacular, never missed. We owned Pueblo. 

June came and Paul left. I was horribly lonely and sad. Somewhere around January an invitation came from AFS. There was room on the SS Ryndamn which would be sailing on June 21, 1967 to Europe with 650 American teenagers who would be doing the same exchange in reverse. There was room on the ship for 150 AFS partners to go to Europe to reconnect with the students that had lived with them. My folks suggested that I go for the summer. Paul and family were more than excited, so away I sailed. 

We headed out on that ship right by the Statue of Liberty to the North Atlantic. My world grew at an exponential rate. There I was with 650 girls and 150 boys sailing to Europe with NO supervision—seriously we were on our own with a crew who spoke Dutch.  

The first three days many kids spent a great deal of time hanging off the railing—sea sick. Not me. The Ryndam was a troop carrier in WWII. The rooms all had bunks, and the bathrooms and showers were in common spaces. The food was great and the fun was never ending. 

On July 1, the day before I turned 18, we docked in Rotterdam. I can still remember Paul and his whole family waving at me from the dock. I spent seven weeks running around Europe with Paul. I will share some of those stories in future blogs.

Today I sit in the center of a floating Four Star Hotel called the Nieuw Statendam. We are on a two-week repositioning cruise from Florida to yes…Rotterdam. I will be picked up by a 77 year-old retired judge—yes… Paul. We will head into the tulip festival which begins there on that day. For eight days we will laugh, reminiscing the passage of time. I will be writing more often on this journey, I hope you enjoy the trip. Bon Voyage.

Onward and Upward,

Mark