1929

At our age our thoughts may be worth more than our doings. Do share them. John Roemer from Pahoa, Hawaii, wrote some of his fine thoughts to Hal Hirsch, perhaps inspired by the casual mention that he has cancer. Here's one of three poems he'd like his classmates to hear.

There is a glacial ridge Between the Connecticut River and Occom Pond Where I learned many things when I was young. I learned not to fear white water Rushing down the river after the spring thaw. In the fall the color of the leaves Shook me as an anthem would, pouring from the chapel organ. Walk along the spine of the escar to where the northern end spills into the Vale of Tempe on a cathedral of pines as noble as the spires of Ely. I learned so much when I was young. My teacher was the ridge and the subject Beauty, And beauty is forever.

John also wrote about Hamilton Bates. "Ham dropped out in our sophomore year. He was too busy writing letters to the Honduran consulate on how to bring mahogany out of the jungle." Hal adds: "Ham loved hunting and skiing. Logging and the out of doors were his love more than books and classrooms."

Millions of readers of the old Herald Tribune and the International Herald Tribune share our loss of our wise and talented Harry Baehr, their chief editorial writer. Harry met almost impossible demands like when John Kennedy was shot at noon, and the Trib's publisher ordered two separate two-column features on Kennedy and Johnson for either side of the front page.

A few of us share the blessing of his gentle, loving friendship. Somehow that mind and spirit must always go on. Thanks, Harry, for being.

The worth of our existence never ends While we keep warm our memories of friends.

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