Slim’s Lake Kegonsa Campsite

With his head band and ragged beard, Slim looked the wild man,

A wild, bandit guerilla stooped

Over the Lake Kegonsa campfire, pouring coffee into a mug,

Pouring out his thoughts into the night air;

About work, race and social change. He swatted at a bug

And slumped into his folding chair.

Some would have thought him mad by his looks

As he voiced views found in skeptics’ books;

Max Weber, Baldwin, Alinsky and Studs Terkel too.

Our mentor sociologist shared thoughts new to us

As we kept the fire going, log by log; and we put-up tents.

Above all, cynic, or advocate, we laughed

As we fried food, talked, and laughed with Slim

At Lake Kegonsa.

The night, splattered with stars and sausage grease,

Promised a good night’s sleep for this college tour

On its way east and south to Richmond to explore

Why prejudice churns and burns more and more.

Slim knew something he chose not to convey to the naïve.

Those of us used to this secure, white world we enjoyed.

He preferred we learn by being there, our crested status laid bare.

Where our white-fused views would be tried with truth

Would we fight or flee, turn angry, tearful or fearful,

Or sad in our struggle with it?

As ashes rose from the fire, silence settled over its roar.

Slim grinned a grin as one in combat might let slip,

Acting brave while staring upon an open grave

C. S. Cholas, May 6, 1974.

Lake Kegonsa Campground, Wisconsin