Once upon a time there was an old jalopy named Poison Ivy. It was a second-hand two passenger convertible with a rumble seat and a spare spoke tire mounted next to the passenger side door above a wide running board. My Uncle George, a Miller counselor, was particularly fond of Poison Ivy because it served to transport a date from Hagan and him into Stroudsburg for the evening to take in a show at the Sherman Theater or have drinks at the Penn Stroud Hotel.
There was only one hitch. The car wasn’t his. Poison Ivy belonged to his older sister Kitty, or Kit as she was known at camp, Hagan’s first aquatics director. If George wanted to go for a wild, bumpy ride down River Road in a rumble seat with a Hagan girl, he had to find someone to fill the front passenger seat.
Enter his good buddy Charles, Miller’s camp doctor. He and Kit were opposites of sorts. Her German ancestry, Latin flavored from the French influenced Alsace Lorraine region, allowed her to soak up sun like a sponge. Charles on the other hand, with his chestnut hair and fair skin, got sunburned sitting in the shade. Kit, one of five children, was outgoing, assertive, often rambunctious. Charles, an only child, was quiet and thoughtful, a sweet guy.
My parents married in 1941. Their Miller Hagan romance produced three second generation campers and lasted sixty-three years. (Check out Mary’s mom’s Photo Gallery, “Hagan-In the Beginning.”)
Mary (Marigold) Goldsmith Westhuis
Hagan 1960-1970; Miller Hagan 1971-1974
