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I don’t know how one gains admission to the venerable Explorer’s Club, whether one applies, is nominated, appointed our what. In any event, the opportunity to join came dad’s way. It was an honor that he could hardly handle. He viewed himself as an explorer, and much more than the average everyday explorer, i.e. a world-class explorer. So he thought that he was eminently well suited for membership.
The opportunity came his way but in the end, after he had completed the paperwork required for acceptance, he had to write a check for $250. I don’t remember the year but it was early 1980’s and he felt he didn’t have money to pay for what seemed in the end to be a bit of frippery. It didn’t help dig dinosaurs and it didn’t make any difference to his employer, so why bother.
He still wanted to join.
Not anticipating what was about to happen a few days later, he was shocked when he opened an envelope with his name. Inside was a brief note from mom on a half-sheet of green paper (thrifty always) saying, “I know how much it means to you to become a member of the Explorer’ Club. Here’s a check for $250. Love, Marie,”
I have his heavily encrusted badge somewhere but can’t find it right now to photo but here are two images that tell the story, too.
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At the end of his life, after processing his work and accomplishments, he ended up with a bitter-sweet assessment of himself. He said, ‘After all is said and done, I guress I was just an explorer.” This club membership felt like a fitting commemoration of his work.
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