Psychologist finds quiet in Heath Springs, writes novel about his life

Psychologist finds quiet in Heath Springs, writes novel about his life

Dec. 29, 2017
By Mandy Catoe

Dr. Charles Kaska writes in his den in Heath Springs. He can be followed on Facebook at cpowerskaska, and his book “The Canoeist” can be purchased from Amazon. 

Many people come to Lancaster County these days for high-end jobs and a busy suburban lifestyle.
Dr. Charles Kaska, 74, moved here for peace and quiet.
He and his artist wife, Patricia Gambino, plopped down in Heath Springs five years ago after leaving the Philadelphia suburbs.
He retired after an intense four decades working as a forensic psychologist – interviewing criminal suspects to determine their level of sanity, providing expert testimony in court, and profiling criminals to determine motives and patterns.
The couple wanted seclusion and a slow pace of life that would put them fairly close to her parents, who live on the Grand Strand, and give him time to write his first novel.
“We did not want to live in the fast-paced atmosphere of the Myrtle Beach area, which is too crowded with too much movement,” Kaska said. “So we looked at a map and saw that Lancaster County didn’t seem to have a lot of roads or cities.”
Once they settled down in their new home, complete with a pottery studio and a study, Kaska began writing.

Charles Kaska stands with wife Patricia Gambino in her pottery studio in their home.

His new book, “The Canoeist,” is loosely based on the first 25 years of his life. It reads like an autobiography – the main character is named Charles Kaska – but the author is quick to point out that it is part fiction. He won’t say which part.

Toll of the ’60s

By the time readers complete the nearly 600-page journey, they will come away with an appreciation of Kaska’s resourcefulness, his passion for peace, and the spiritual toll the 1960s had on his generation.
Kaska turned 17 in 1960. The decade included the hope of John F. Kennedy and progressive civil rights legislation, a divisive war, and the voices of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy. Before it was over, those three leaders had been silenced by assassination.
The downward spiral of the ’60s was so disheartening that Kaska nearly subtitled his novel “The Whole Thing Went to Hell.”
“The Canoeist” shows the spiritual growth of an idealistic young man finding his way through life by marching against war, serving in the Peace Corps in South America, and coming home to the riots of 1968.
Kaska points to the cover of the novel, which depicts a lone canoeist in a swirl of symbols representing the chaos of his youth.
He took a little time recently to talk about the book and to offer some insight on his life since that disturbing period.
“I think I’ve done my part,” he said. “I think that I haven’t wasted my talents or my opportunities and that I have made a difference, and that is a very satisfying feeling.”
Kaska is trim and fit and moves with the ease of a much younger man. His hair is white, full and neat. His tone, delivery and manner are as steady as the ticking cuckoo clock hanging in his study. He is always on an even keel. His family describes him as loyal, reliable and kind.
His wife says he put his writing aside without complaint to build display shelves for her pottery shows. And he helps wrap each piece of pottery in protective wrap before traveling with her to galleries.

Finding his way

Kaska's childhood photos from the 1950s (supplied)

Kaska was an only child born to unhappy parents of limited means and little imagination in 1943 in Rahway, N.J.
Teachers told him he had little capacity for math and virtually none to learn a foreign language. He proved them all wrong, and by the time he was 35 years old, had earned a doctorate of psychology and was fluent in Spanish.
He graduated from high school in 1961 and attended a local community college for a year before flunking out. He worked odd jobs for a couple years before landing one at Kraft Foods making mayonnaise. That lasted less than a year.
“I was fired for leaving work without official permission,” he said. “I had a cold and couldn’t find the nurse, so I just went home, not realizing what a serious thing that was to do.”
Kaska said his only option at that point was to go back and get more education since he “wasn’t fit for the world of work.”
He enrolled at Monmouth College in 1963. While in school, he organized a relief project for striking sharecroppers in Mississippi, led anti-war rallies and revitalized The Hawker, a fledgling liberal magazine produced off-campus.
“It was a slow downward spiral from there,” he said. “The better The Hawker got, the more the administration got angry.”
School officials were so threatened by the publication’s anti-establishment tone that they suspended him from college in 1966, just before Thanksgiving.

Joined Peace Corps
His expulsion made him eligible to be drafted. He decided he would go to prison if necessary rather than serve, but he had poor hearing and was rejected by the military.
“This was about standing your ground for what you believe in and accepting the consequences for doing so,” he said.
After a three-month trip to California and back, hitchhiking most of the way, Kaska joined the Peace Corps and worked in Colombia, South America. He learned to ride horses on the hilly terrain, speak Spanish, got married and climbed Pico Cristobal Colon, the tallest mountain in Colombia.
Kaska served for 18 months before deciding to head back home. It was the summer of 1968, and Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy had been murdered.
America was blowing up “city by city and killing our leaders one by one,” Kaska recalled.
He resumed his studies at Monmouth College and received his bachelor’s in psychology in 1969.
His parents came to see him graduate, but neither “brought a present or even a greeting card… or wished me congratulations, nor said they were proud…. Neither ever had.”

Since 1969
Kaska said his first 25 years were the most “swashbuckling” part of his life. The two quarter-century periods since have been quieter, but with great emotional and academic achievement.
He earned his master’s degree from Newark State College in 1972 and his doctorate six years later from Rutgers University.
“Achieving the doctorate had not only practical significance for me but also tremendous emotional significance, because…I had earned it at a major university and had done so after all my academic struggles,” he said. “Go all the way back to first grade when I could not do arithmetic. I overcame all that.”
His daughter, Juliet Kaska, was born in 1974. She lives in Los Angeles and owns a group of yoga and Pilates fitness centers.
“The most important and creative thing I have ever done is to bring Juliet into this world,” he said. “There is no question about that.”
Juliet recently got married in South Africa, and Kaska traveled 8,000 miles to walk her down the aisle.

Kaska and daughter Juliet on her wedding day in South Africa last June. (photo supplied).

Kaska’s first marriage ended in the mid-’80s. He met Patricia Gambino in the early ’90s.
She describes their first Valentine’s Day.
“No chocolate and roses for us,” she said. “We were on a winter backpacking trip on Mount Washington in New Hampshire in 1992. It was 10 degrees with a wind chill of minus 40, and winds were gusting up to 60 miles per hour.”
She was exhausted and unsure if she could make it back to camp. She said Kaska carried all his gear and half of hers on the return trip. She collapsed in the tent with her snow-covered boots sticking out. She said he removed her boots, warmed her feet and secured the tent.
“When the chips were down and I was about done, he came to my rescue,” she said. “I knew he was the fellow for me in that moment.”

Reading the classics
Kaska is currently reading the classics and studying western civilization. He keeps a huge globe next to the sofa where he reads, so he can “do more than imagine” where a country is located. He figures he is about 70 percent through the classics.
Kaska has survived the chaos of life with his sense of humor in tact.
“The biggest impediment to my learning has been formal education,” he said. “If they had just left me alone, I could have learned a lot more.”