In 1965 I graduated from UNC-Chapel Hill with a Bachelor's degree in Latin American History. Initially I thought to continue my Latin American studies, but my experience in graduate school proved abortive: I withdrew before they had the chance to flunk me out! I floundered around for the rest of the year (1966), then fate intervened. During the Christmas Holidays, an aunt and uncle had a party at their house and one of the attendees was a young man whose parents were business partners with my uncle in some real estate development. They were British and their son Jeremy was a bit of a maverick whom they had packed off to the University of Colorado in Boulder. From there he had run off to California--more specifically to the Monterey peninsula--and now Jeremy was home for the holidays. He brought with him this fabulous book titled Not Man Apart which was an early Sierra Club book full of striking photographs of the Big Sur coast done by Ansel Adams, Edward Weston, and the like.
"This is where I live," Jeremy said casually as I perused the book. The pictures were mouthwateringly beautiful. "You should come out and visit some time." Though we exchanged phone numbers, I doubt he expected me to be calling him from Monterey's local Sambo's restaurant in a few weeks asking for directions to his house, but nevertheless here I was. My adventure was about to begin.
