BuddyHogan

A kayaker, an instructor, a paddling buddy, a friend A kid from New Bedford, just a regular kid that grew up in a tough town. He went on to school and played football and play football he did, for Fairhaven High School, Tabor Academy, and Boston University. His own accomplishments are many, his sharing of understanding was matchless. I met him early one morning on the south shore at an ACA kayak training in the late 1990’s. His gear was hanging on his jeep drying in the early morning sun, he was laying back in the front seat catching some shuteye. I asked myself “what kind of trainer is this” I was soon to learn. The training went on and at one point we picked topics out of a hat, I forget the topic I picked but one young woman picked out safety. As she spoke she began to cry uncontrollably and inconsolable she ran from the room. One young man said “what’s with her” and our instructor said you can never tell what your students have been through and not judge. He explained that she had lost a personal friend on a river in Nepal. His explanation was eloquent as it reached into my soul. I had found a man who was so sensitive but yet so real in his understanding. The friendship will be with me forever. We went on for years training guides, certifying instructors, helping out clubs and paddling the waters off the Massachusetts and New Hampshire coast. I was a well-known kayaker, I had paddled some distances with the good kayakers from the area and thought I was all “that”, but at one time he asked me if I would like to take part in training an instructor, of course, I said yes. I arrived ready to train with all my gear. As I looked around at the beautiful YMCA in Mattapoisett, MA right on the bay but everyone there was either in a wheelchair or had a cane or a white cane. I asked: “Who are we training here?” He looked at me and smiled and with a hand gesture toward the crowd of folks in the wheelchairs and canes he said: “We are training you.” Well I found I wasn’t all that I thought I was but much less. The courage of these folks far exceeded the bluster I was. We shared the love of a feeling of the air, the movement of the water, the smiles on the faces. Two days later I drove away from the training my mind reeling at what had happened to me, I pulled over and looked at the ocean, waves crashing on the shore and was unable to drive as I searched for ‘that’ what I was and found that I wasn’t, but I changed that day and vowed to have the courage of the folks that trained me. I volunteered my assistance to Outdoor Explorations of Medford, MA and for the next five years. A few weeks later I was asked by my instructor to come to Woods Hole to meet some paddlers from NESN. I thought to myself why anyone from NESN Sports would want to meet me. That day I met Bob Burnett and Jim Leonard, these two were ‘one of a kind’ paddlers. So began my relationship with a Yahoo paddling group. I was glad to find some absolutely wild paddlers and these two were the wildest among a few others, I fit right in. It wasn’t NESN, it was much better in fact it was NSPN and it was great. I sat on the board for five years. Over the years my wife, my instructor and I developed therapeutic recreation kayak programs for the Veterans Administration for the disabled Vets returning from Iraq and Afghanistan and their families. I don’t know how many of you realize how many people you can touch in your life but if I had not met my wife, these people and my instructor, things would be much different for me. I found ‘that’ which I was seeking because a friend found it for me. With one statement “It is not what you can do, it is what you bring to the sport.” He gave me much more to my life. Thank You my friend, Armand M. "Mickey" Mickune-Santos – ACA Instructor Trainer - a kid from New Bedford, MA - died January 3 2015 The friendship will be with me forever.

Derek Hutchinson drew our first NSPN Logo; you know the old triangle with the silhouette of a paddler in perfect form heading out for a wonderful day on the water. He did have much to do with the first days of NSPN. This club is carrying on with many of the suggestions he set forth back in the day. We are all his students and fellow paddlers. ==BuddyHogan

A poem once recited to me by my coach, Derek Hutchinson, on the ride back to my home from a training. I asked "why do we paddle out on the ocean? " His reply ...... The Call of the Wild by Robert W. Service (1907) Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing else to gaze on, Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore, Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon, Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar? Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it, Searched the Vastness for a something you have lost? Have you strung your soul to silence? Then for God's sake go and do it; Hear the challenge, learn the lesson, pay the cost. Have you wandered in the wilderness, the sagebrush desolation, The bunch-grass levels where the cattle graze? Have you whistled bits of rag-time at the end of all creation, And learned to know the desert's little ways? Have you camped upon the foothills, have you galloped o'er the ranges, Have you roamed the arid sun-lands through and through? Have you chummed up with the mesa? Do you know its moods and changes? Then listen to the Wild — it's calling you. Have you known the Great White Silence, not a snow-gemmed twig aquiver? (Eternal truths that shame our soothing lies). Have you broken trail on snowshoes? mushed your huskies up the river, Dared the unknown, led the way, and clutched the prize? Have you marked the map's void spaces, mingled with the mongrel races, Felt the savage strength of brute in every thew? And though grim as hell the worst is, can you round it off with curses? Then hearken to the Wild — it's wanting you. Have you suffered, starved and triumphed, groveled down, yet grasped at glory, Grown bigger in the bigness of the whole? "Done things" just for the doing, letting babblers tell the story, Seeing through the nice veneer the naked soul? Have you seen God in His splendors, heard the text that nature renders? (You'll never hear it in the family pew). The simple things, the true things, the silent men who do things — Then listen to the Wild — it's calling you. They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their preaching, They have soaked you in convention through and through; They have put you in a showcase; you're a credit to their teaching — But can't you hear the Wild? — it's calling you. Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us; Let us journey to a lonely land I know. There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us, And the Wild is calling, calling. . .let us go. Derek, As I sit here thinking of you an overwhelming feeling has come over me. The months you spent with Dottie and I were the most productive times in my learning process. It was the times between paddles, the conversations, jokes, and building of a friendship I didn’t understand until after it was made. You more than anyone helped me understand what I was to become within myself as a paddler and in the therapeutic recreation arena. It was you that inspired Dottie and I to develop the programs for the disabled, the returning vets, and the children around Boston and New England. These programs are still ongoing and it is because of you. So my friend, my senior instructor, my mentor, my coach I just want to wish you well on another expedition, I know you will get there. Dottie and I went out for dinner last night and talked about the times spent together with you over the years. Back at our mountain home as I looked across the valley floor images of friendship drifted through my mind as the scene turned to the sea and you and I were paddling together again. As the sun was setting and the sky drew dark the sea turn to a sea of gold. Thank you for a sea of gold. With Love and Admiration ==Buddy Hogan