1895*

In the last item of this column of the October issue, the date of the death of Mrs. Rice was given as May 16. It should be May 14.

Formerly the problem of '95's secretary was:—how to gather enough items from our far flung class to fill a reasonable amount of space. But since space limits have been set, the question is to tell individual classmates half (or less) of what I know about all the rest. I have ammunition enough for a sizeable barrage. Our class has, I believe, more interest in each other than they have given evidence of since we filed into the White Church in our rented caps and gowns (or some of us did), to hear our salutatorian and valedictorian say, "hail and farewell" to us. We are now a solidified fraternity of "old grads."

I wonder if I should be so self indulgent as to quote a telegram from my first grandchild. Here it is.

"Chicago 111. 1940 Oct. 23.

Dear Grandpa—l like Chicago very much I weigh 61/2 lbs Mother and Grandma are doing nicely. Your loving grandson"

I was daily expecting a telegram about my grandchild's arrival; but didn't dream that I was to have a grandson precocious enough to compose and transmit such an adult message. If any classmate is grandfather of so precocious a two-hour-old grandson let him speak up and present documentary proof as I have. No telegram has ever made me feel so giddy as my grandson's has. There are now three Roland E. Stevenses in my family circle. I understand that Roland III announced his arrival in a voice of intermittently varying amplitude, like a Dartmouth cheer-leader in the making. Somehow I have now come to realize that there is a growing crop of '95 grandchildren. "P. I." Morrison has reminded me that Mrs. Stevens and I "are not the only tin cans on the dump" (This from our valedictorian!) "We have a new granddaughter at the Hitchcock Hospital in Hanover", he asserts. Dud West is crowing about his newly born grandsons, two of them, neatly spaced.

As a grandfather I'm all but obliterated by such famous granddads as Adam, Noah, Shem, Ham, Jopheth, at als. Just consult the ancient census in your Bibles. Turn to I Chronicles and see how puny and insignificant we grandpas of '95 are; especially your secretary. But I imagine there is more thrill in being grandparent of say 1 to 25 boys and girls (especially the first one), than a whole military division of them. I regret that I can't chronicle in this column the heart-warming letters from classmates, grand and otherwise. But at the risk of being censored, I venture to violate the space rule, a wee bit, and say that the one photograph of a '95 grandson I have received was sent me by Josephine Burt Hack, Tom's wife. I am perfectly willing to be uncle, or even assistant grandfather to that alert and attractive boy. His birthday and mine are only three days apart as to day and month. He will be five, November 21 st. On November 24, I shall be ?.

Secretary, White River Junction, Vt.