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Dave Griswold Remembers Damon Van Vliet

Damon was my first friend at Darrow. We roomed together with David Fisher and Jon McCann. Damon and I were close. He had been at another prep school and knew his way around--he helped me adjust. Also, his parents had divorced, and he seemed to understand the loss and hurt I experienced when my Dad died just 6 weeks after I came to Darrow. I wish I had told him how much I appreciated his support.

The next year we roomed with Frank Phillips. I believe it was Frank who hung the Goat tag on Damon. Damon loved to “butt heads’ on subjects and both he and Frank were ardent Democrats caught up in the JFK election. They loved to attack me intellectually and physically (not too difficult) on my support for Nixon. I really had no idea why I supported Nixon other than he was a Republican and all Griswold’s voted Republican--a weak defense, I admit. But we had fun, and I remember three things that year. One was Damon’s intellectual curiosity. He really wanted to know more than what was on the surface. Secondly, he was a good athlete, a center halfback in soccer, in great shape and he could run all day. Also, he was Captain of the basketball team, not a great shooter but really tough under the boards and a very good lacrosse player. Thirdly, he was strong and, next to Perina, one of the strongest members of our class. He would have destroyed me in a serious fight but he never tried. Rather, he looked out for me and protected me a couple of times.

We were good friend all three years but after Darrow we took such different paths.

It was 22 years later when I saw him. I was with Bob Lang in Florida and Bob had located Damon and took me to see him. Damon was in the Penthouse of the Jockey Club in North Miami. I remember going though a number of gates and taking the elevator up to the Penthouse.

When I first saw him, I was amazed at how we had changed. Since leaving Darrow, I had grown bigger and stronger. Damon had gone in the other direction. I don’t think he weighed 150. Thin and gaunt, I remember mentioning my concern. With that, Damon introduced me to his new health plan. He had eliminated all meat and starches and was eating a long list of health foods I had never heard of. Also he was into some “cleansing” program which required daily colonics. None of this made any sense to me. Then he talked about his ex-wife who had captured his son and was somewhere in South America. Damon said he took many trips to South America in their pursuit. I felt bad for my friend but had no idea what to say except that I was sorry. Finally he said he had lost faith in the American financial system and dealt only in cash. He then showed me a closet full of gold krugerrands and pistols and rifles he needed for protection. By this time, I was totally speechless.

He graciously took us to a very nice restaurant in Miami for dinner and, while Bob and I ate steak and I had several bourbons, Damon had some type of organic salad and proceeded to cover it with all kinds of “stuff” he carried with him in bottles. He then drank some liquid he carried with him. The staff at the restaurant all knew him and apparently did not mind. Later that evening, he took us to one of his favorite spots. It was in a crummier section of town and there was a pool hall. I was nervous in this section of town but Damon seemed right at home and most of the people knew him. He shot pool with Lang, and I drank more bourbon. Damon ordered some horrible concoction with prune juice. In the old days, I would have teased him but looking at his shoulder holster with the 45, I kept quiet.

Much later that evening we headed back to his place. I am sure Lang has better recall at this point as the bourbon had taken its toll. I went to sleep.

We left the next morning; I never saw him again.

I wish I had reached out--been more of a friend--tried to help, but what would I have said and would he have listened? We had become so different. Oliver North meets Timothy Leary.

Instead of “what ifs,” I would prefer to remember the joys and there was one moment above all others.

It was a fall day our senior year and we were playing Barlow in a soccer game. It had rained all day and the field was a sea of mud. Late in the game a penalty occurred, and I was chosen to take the kick.  As I started for the ball, their goalie anticipated my move and shifted his weight, but in the process slipped in the mud and fell down. I had an easy shot on an open goal. But for some reason, I pulled up short and passed the ball back to Damon who was behind me. He kicked in the go-ahead goal. We grabbed each other and leaped up in the air laughing and yelling at the sheer joy and pure exhilleration of the moment.

So, so long ago, before assignations, wars, taxes, lawyers, Clintons and Bushes, two friends holding on to each other - jumping in the rain. Why did it have to change?

--Gris

 


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