1941

Last year, at the age of 87, my father died of congestive heart failure after having been hobbled by arthritis for many years. Right now, at the same age, my mother is hospitalized with an untreatable malignancy that came to light after she had striven for months to recover from a (second) broken hip. After visiting with her yesterday, I held a babe in arms, my second grandson, not yet three months of age. The life cycle, of course, personified by Pop and Nanny, long since gone through divorce, and Dwight Matthew Knell, potentially Dartmouth class of 2008.

A new life is something to celebrate, but so, too, is the life that has ended. A memorial service for that purpose is an important aspect of death and dying, an area of increasing interest for me in recent years. Verging on family seniority, and reminded of my own mortality in other ways as well, I have been trying to address the issues of death and dying with as much rationality as I can muster. To begin with, I do decry the prevailing cultural values which affirm youth, health and feeling good, but deny aging, illness and death. Quite to the contrary was a conference earlier this year that Dickie and I chaired and coordinated, on "Taking Charge of the End of Life."

I write of this because the conference was very well-received, and it seems to me that all of us in '41 have reason to make plans to deal with death and dying. The conference program included keynoter, workshops, exhibits, and panel presentations. The latter provided pertinent information on six topics: Medical and Psychiatric Services for the Aged"; "Supportive Services for the Terminally I11"; "Rational Suicide to End Intolerable Illness"; "Living Will and Durable Power of Attorney"; "The Law Affecting the Aged and Disabled"; and "Pre-planning for Simple, Dignified, Inexpensive Funeral Arrangements." Write me for a copy of the program or further information about anything covered in "Taking Charge."

Reaching into my mail bag, I see that Bruce Brown wrote in May to enclose a copy of his letter to Don Hagen about the Dartmouth scene, and Jack Selby at about the same time sent me what he had written to President McLaughlin. Their views diverge, as you can see from "Dope" reprints, and that's as it should be. I despair to think stereotypically of the Dartmouth graduate, and recent events, including the contested Trustee election, now a closed chapter of College history, reflect wide-ranging attitudes and opinions about the scene around the Green.

Good news about this summer's Alumni College. Ed Martin phoned to say that he and Jan will be there, and that means Dickie and I have a tennis match lined up already. Otherwise, I confess, I'm not much better about homework than I used to be. Of the advance readings, I've finished only Vonnegut's PlayerPiano, and I'm into as they say Freud's Civilization and Its Discontents. Long way to go to get ready a month from now (the middle of July). Billeting notification in the morning's mail: 205 Mass. Tell you more, after the fact, a couple of columns down the road.

Peace and joy.

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