1942
This time the bag has reached a new low. An intensive check of my revolving files (any sort of check of my files is bound to be "intensive") reveals that I have not received (a) any letters or even post cards from classmates; or (b) clips from the usually cooperative ALUMNI MAGAZINE office.
Ordinarily this would add up to some poesy about the tall foliage up this way which, this year, has been unusually colorful, but, fortunately, you will be spared that indignity. The reason for this reprieve is that recently I went into consultation with someone equally as colorful as the maples and birches hereabouts, Dave Heald, our reunion chairman for the Titillating Tenth.
Mr. Heald I found to be simply chockful of goodness in the idea department, none of them locked-in, either. All of his brain waves, he hastened to point out, were subject to approval or disapproval by the class and any suggestions, he said, would be gratefully accepted.
The general theme, the Sunapee sahib thinks, should be that of informality. This is not to say that Mr. H. advocates that no one wear shoes or not shave for three days. Rather, he means that the programming of the weekend should be as reasonably flexible as possible and that the various events should definitely be out of the white-tie-and-tails category.
Here's what he sketched in the quartermaster's department. For Friday night, a buffet supper, probably to be served at the tent. Saturday noon is the alumni luncheon, which all classes will attend. On Saturday night, rather than have the usual rather stuffy class dinner, Dave's idea is to have a cook-out dinner (Oak Hill or some such) with, as he termed it, "extra-curricular activities involved."
The neatest gimmick of all in the delicatessen line was something David called a Continental breakfast. This, he said, could be made available both Saturday and Sunday mornings at the dormitory (get that!). Buffet style, coffee, rolls, fruit juice and jams would be available to sleepyheads all morning, up to noon, which ought to leave ample time to get that throbbing head off the pillow.
Other reunion ideas he passed along—l'm telling you, the kid was really loose—included the note that any of you family people who wish to bring the spratlings along, should feel free to do so. Baby-sitters will be available and, for the Saturday night affair, a separate, and special, party will be held for the '42 kids.
In addition, Dave has contacted the amiable Herb West, our class advisor, and that youthful worthy has indicated that he will be on tap for all '42 functions.
There were two or three specific things M. Heald requested help for. One was: For this cook-out Saturday night, what is your pleasure—steak, chicken or lobster? Or all three? (He means your choice of all three.) Another was the matter of reunion garb.
Anyone any ideas on some identifying gadget for the class, outside, of course, of the badges? Hats? Tam-o'-shanters? Caps? Football helmets?
M. Heald closed the conversation with a fervent admonition, which, somewhat watered down, ran something like this: "Remember, this is your party. We can't do any more than guess, if you don't let us know what you'd like. If we get no suggestions, you'll simply have to take what we can dream up unaided. That isn't the way it should be, so drop me a line."
(The address is: David Heald, Mt. Sunapee State Park, Sunapee, N. H.)
Except to say that I'm sure there will be divertissements such as a 194 a vs. 19? Softball game (games, I should say, for there will probably be a distaff engagement as well) and songs, dances and genteel patter, I can't add anything else. I'm no fool—I won't try to stay in there with Heald. He'd murder me.
One other note—you have probably all noiced by now that Treasurer Harriman, the lad with the Bduciary rhymes, has started his annual putsch for class dues. Heed his poetic pleas!
As for me, I'm pouting—nobody writes me and I just bought the prettiest yellow note paper!
Secretary, _ The Claremont Eagle, Claremont, N. H.
Treasurer, 6178 Blackburn Ave., Los Angeles 36, Calif.
