We sat in the gold tone Jeep Waggoneer jetting north from New Paltz  to central Vermont. Its a lovely late spring day and I am seated in the passenger side marveling at the vibrant life of the woods along the highway. The dark red rock outcroppings with life packed onto, into and around it stretching out mile after mile was an altogether new thing to me. A few short months earlier I had known nothing other than  the rigid structures of grid lined streets and towering buildings. Even the small buildings I had grown up with were the five floor brownstones that hugged he sidewalks and grouped together like cans on a shelf. This was a whole new and bold world of living color.

Turning to face me to soak in the newness of it all through my eyes was the man who had taught me so much about loving, giving and surprisingly how humble a person can be.  Joe asked me what I found so fascinating about the sidelines of the highway.  I turned to him as I always did in that jeep and launched into the sheer joy of seeing the abundant  greenery  and the richness of life that was wrapped all around me. the rock surfaces that faced the highway in endless stretches, the deep impossible blue of the sky and the verdant trees deeply soaked in every type of blooming shrubbery that poked out sporadically all along the highway.

I couldn't  contain myself.  I was seeing so much of the life that others rarely noticed.  It was a joy just to watch it rush past the windows. While I marinated in all of this life affirming color  Joe began to tell me a bit of background about Terry. His stories paled in comparison to the reality but it was good to know they had met in the Florida Everglades.  Joe and his then partner James were on vacation in the area and had run into Terry one day. He described Terry as a strong but soft gentlemen type. I came to the wrong conclusions immediately and learned as much over the weekend. A weekend which started on Thursday and ended the following  Monday. As the story went it was poolside and Terry was seated next to Joe. They struck up a conversation and each learned that the other had a place in Manhattan. Joe was on Sutton Place and Terry had a brownstone in Greenwich Village. They spent part of that week getting together by each inviting the other to different events and thus a friendship was born. Joe told me of George who was Terry's benefactor and of the history of the estate we were going to for our weekend. That's right, I said Estate. A remarkable plot of land that had originally been a massive property which had been pared down to one fifth its original size. This  amounted to the North West side of a mountain that they referred quaintly to as "The Farm". There was a brief description of several people Joe and Terry knew mutually and that two of them would be there for the weekend.

I had no idea of the circle I would have introduced to me that day. It still surprises me whenever I look back and link the names in one large as life version of six degrees of separation.  So Joe breaks into his own story telling to change the subject. The new subject was not one I could have guessed or assisted with. It turns out that the route we had taken was soon going to bring us past Terry's driveway.  That wasn't the actual point of it though. The point of breaking into his reverie was this driveway was hidden. It was angled in the opposite direction of traffic so as not to be noticed as it was along a curve on the route.  The only clue was another driveway nearby had a business sign out front. If you didn't notice the neighbors sign you would skim right past their driveway without ever knowing you had missed it.  He was right to break his reverie as we had in fact passed the lane. We doubled back and pulled into what could only be described as an overgrowth of brush and drooping tree limbs onto a dirt road. This was in itself also a deceit. This dirt lane led through a thicket of tube like greenery angling up and off to the right as it climbed into a forest. It made a dramatic change as the lane turned left. Suddenly it opened to a twenty foot wide tar paved road and a long stretch of large old oaks. they reached up, across and met over the newly found street. That dirt road was a disguise. This was the entrance to the property. It went on for about another half mile and opened to about sixty acres of landscaped lawns, lakes and rolling hillside. A whitewashed pine  pole fence lined the left side of the driveway that allowed a view up a hillside to the main house. It was a brick home that stretched along the horizon pointing arrow like to the West with a tower on the right side and an arm that reached forward toward us from that tower.  I came to realize that everyone who was new to "The Farm" was watched closely for their reactions through out their first stay. I did not disappoint. The surprise of it all literally dropped my jaw. A hearty giggle fit came over Joe as he realized I had never seen anything like this place. It wasn't the last time that happened in this trip.

We pulled around left as The curved drive led to up to the house. There was no garage to speak of for the guests. it was more of an open graveled field. On one side of that gravel field there was a caretakers house. It was faced toward Terry's house and was tucked away into  grove of trees. We stepped out of the jeep and I couldn't see it all fast enough. The brick front tower of the house was a thirty foot square three floor peaked turret. What I thought was a front door was in fact a tunnel through the house separating a guest suite from the rest. We walked into the tunnel and to my surprise Joe reached into the corner to a thick rope coming out of the ceiling. Joe pulled the rope and a brass bell perched above us swung to and fro ringing out the presence of guests. A bell that could be heard anywhere in the house and in fact echoed as it rolled over the hillside. Again I was dumbstruck. Again a laugh burst out of Joe. To my further surprise a man stepped to the door wearing nothing but a heavy white towel around his waist.

This was Terry Gallowhur.  A man seemingly out of some other era some other place. He was tall and well built. He was in his early forties most likely. It was hard to pin down. Terry never mentioned his age and his face, body and demeanor told nothing of him that was definable. He was so much like the character out of Rivendel that I always referred to him as Elrond when talking to anyone who knew him. He was calm as a millpond. I could honestly say that nothing perturbed him. In the middle of a discussion a wall of his home could fall over and he would turn, look at it and say he would have to get that fixed then return to the conversation. Nothing moved this man off his center. I envy that to this day. He had a toned body and a graciousness that could only be European aristocracy. I learned later that it was a grace that was nurtured in him by his mentor and partner George, who was in fact a Belgian aristocrat. His greeting was warm and friendly but what I noticed even more than the curved muscles that just happened to actually be glistening was his voice. Not too deep and not to booming but a sandy rich tone that commanded attention. It came as a relief since I was given something else to focus on outside of the tossel haired sculpture in a wet towel. He hugged us both and told us how he had been swimming in The lake out back. That didn't quite sink in immediately. I was too focused on retaining a calm and familiar attitude as if I always was greeted by near nude men in old world mansions. He walks us into the front hall where he had a robe on the peg on the wall. Donning this he then called to  Mary the house keeper to get someone to bring in our bags.

This was a life I never knew existed. I began thi weekend the same way I ended it, by thanking anyone who worked there for doing all the things they did. Terry begins walking up the stairs and as casually as one would pick up a face cloth he would gesture to a bronze of a man skiing or to an oil painting of the same man and tell of the different artists who had made gifts over many years of his deceased partner George. Everywhere you looked there was a painting or a goblet or candelabra all gifts from guests who were treated as family. This is what I had been welcomed to, an extended family of writers sculptors business tycoons and not surprisingly starving artists. All were welcome. All were treated like they belonged from their first minute to the last. Terry had in him the heart of a man more of an earth mother type than anything else. I felt like I was at home each and every day I had been in this glorious mans home. We wrapped around to the second set of stairs and were given the top of the tower bedroom. A cathedral ceilinged square with two windows on each of the view walls. The fourth wall was our bath. We were told to get freshened up and change into whatever we wished and that we would have a late lunch in the gazebo.

Mary The housekeeper had all ready set out lunch and her husband had followed us up stairs with our bags. We changed and met Terry in the gazebo. I would describe the walk to the gazebo but it would take too long. Suffice to say it was its own arm to this house. We entered the room with grand arching open walls on all sides and were introduced to Bill, Charles and Denny. Joe had known Bill from years earlier and may have known Denny but Charles was new to him so introductions were made and we set to a late lunch complete with a full range of drinks. This was to lead to something done to all new people to the house. They made sure all new people were off guard with enough alcohol to not notice a detail later in the evening just after dinner. It was another of those funny things that they couldn't wait to spring on us. It turns out that Charles also was new to the house and as it turned out, thankfully so for me. We all got a tour showing us all of the otherwise unspoken stories and interesting details like the double bedroom master suite. There was a secret panel to the turret bedrooms from the main house. The swinging bookcase that led from the breakfast room to the library or the hidden sound system that piped gentle music throughout the house twenty four hours a day seven days a week. No matter where you were in This house a soft undertone would play quietly in the background.

It was something Terry had added to the house.  It was part of his charm, and charming he was in every way. He could hold a person in his glance and keep you engaged in any and every subject. He was witty without a hint of harshness. He could hold up any conversation and make you feel welcome with what must have been a trademarked double hand clasp. One hand faced up and one down as he took your hand in his and grasped you like you were a welcome brother back after a long journey.  If I hadn't been in love with The incomparable Joe Ferrand I would have melted in Terry's presence. After lunch we all went our separate ways. Me with two gin and tonics in me and sent away with a third to wander the grounds. We walked with Terry down an outstretch of tree lined grass walkway. Terry told us how this estate had originally been a small three hundred year old Dutch brick house directly on a town lane that we walked down now. It was a town owned road when George found it. He bought all the land on either side of the lane and then appealed to the town to zone out that lane. It then became a treed walkway in a greater park like setting. He told us of the house being extended and built out in all directions in the nineteen twenties. As the house and estate was built so was a lifestyle built that was a continuation of one George grew up with in back in Europe.  At the end of the lane was a life sized sculpture, a modernized version of "Winged Victory" a statue done entirely in steel. A rusty red that year that went through a galvanizing rebirth by the time I saw it next.

He showed us the reason this house had to be built. The park like setting was splendid. An open space of possibly sixty acres that undulated around the house was elegant and dazzlingly bright but this one thing made it all pale. It was a mountain view from a forward arch of low hedge. He stood there at The forward most point and drew us up to the edge where we stood as if in the bow of a ship and leaned into the breeze. He showed us a three quarter circle view of mountains in all directions. The wind flapped the flags on poles that had placements on each end of he hedge. It was truly regal. As regal as the man who stood before us. We sipped our drinks and wandered over to a white wrought iron set of benches. The late afternoon sped by and we heard a bell in the tower ring out. It warned of the impending dinner to come. We went back continuing our discussions of George and how he found Terry living in Sedro Wooley a small farming town in upstate Washington. Of Terry's humble beginnings as the son of a farming family who had slowly begun to realize his impending un-welcomeness in his own home.  The story ended as we approached the house.  Joe know the ways of the house.  Dinner was announced a minimum of an hour ahead of time in case anyone needed a rest or to get changed for the table.  We did both.

As we lay in bed just quietly breathing in the sweet dense fresh air and listening to a bit of Bach playing in our bedroom speakers. These were set discreetly into the walls of every room of the house. We nodded off for a few minutes and I dreamed I had been flying.  This was no ordinary flying dream, in this one I was flying low to the ground and turned toward a stream. I felt myself slowly revolve over onto my back as I flew over the stream. Then as if it was perfectly normal I dipped down into the stream while still flying through it. Water rushed over my shoulders and over my body giving me a feeling of a sumptuous full body wash like I was in a waterfall but not so heavy and not so rushed. I can still feel that in my waking mind decades afterward.  I woke a matter of minutes after having fallen off to sleep.  I was so relaxed that I felt a full on cat like stretch come over me. I took the time to let my dream soak into me so I would never forget it. I turned and saw Joe had not in fact fallen asleep.  He lay there and watched me the whole time.  I wanted to tear up right then. It was the gesture of sweet unassuming nurturer that was so natural to him. He was a natural born gentlemen with no ability to be confrontational on any level but this was more. He was that rare commodity, he could bring love into the most unexpected moments. He breathed life into romance and made it part of who he was all the time. I fought off tearing up and just smiled at him. He pulled me out of bed and gave me a soft kiss and told me we should get dressed for dinner. I had so short a time with this man but lived more with him than I had the previous two decades or the following two decades. I had never met someone who had his innate selflessness and ability to raise others up with him to see what he saw in the world.
We went down to dinner and that's when the evening became utterly fascinating. I got to speak in depth with every guest in the house and learn about each of them. These will be spoken of in their proper turn in their own stories. Suffice to say that Terry was a perfect host that night and every night. It was just who he was. dinner came in courses and with each course came a separate alcohol. An aperitif wine then a dinner wine than a dessert wine all followed by the obligatory personal choice cocktail. Of course mine was a gin and tonic. I learned early on to drink things that required I only ever sip them to slow down the process. Well that didn't work this time. from lunch to dinner I had consumed three wines and four gin and tonics. I was so pleasantly off kilter I had no idea that the board games we were about to play were to be held in the library.
That was the final laugh at the expense of the newbies. The Library. We walked one by one through the library door which also doubled as a book case. So once in the library the door effectively disappeared. The others knew to keep the drinking to a limit once in there but made sure to freshen Charles and my drinks  and they all waited. We played all manner of charades and then settled in to playing Pictionary. Then it occurred to me. I needed to go to the bathroom. I discreetly looked around the room, two windows on this side, two on the other, two on the long wall and one door that I knew was a closet. I couldn't find the door I knew we came through. I waited. I learned I had the capacity of self denial on a grand scale only when Charles let out with a big loud "Okay I Give Up, Where's the bathroom?" Everyone but me laughed. I dared not laugh given I was thirty seconds behind Charles in desperation. That's when they reminded us that the entrance was a bookcase built into a wall. Charles made his way out and I admitted I was likely to leave as well. I earned a laugh but a lesser one as I had managed to stave off the inevitable.
This was my introduction to Terry Gallowhur a marvel of a man who had humor charm and grace blended into a remarkable host and a loyal friend. I feel the world needs more men like him. We would have a world more like the one we wished would be but never saw. Well with Terry, Joe, Bill, Denny Charles and many others there that weekend I got to see life as it could be and as it should be. A world I would do anything to live in now.