1925

We have lost another of our stalwarts with the death of Ed Burns February 7 in Sarasota, Fla.

You are owed an apology for the paucity of class news in this column. For both your scribe and his good wife, having been hospitalized this winter and our usual winter vacation in the Caribbean postponed, these notes presented a problem, the deadline arriving prior to our return. Hence, this part is being written as we relax on our little unspoiled out of the way British Island of Nevis, W.I.

The runway takes only small two-engine planes, there are no large resorts or hotels, no fancy shops, no casino. But we do have a sandy beach, warm blue water, palm trees, 78-82 degree temperatures with sea breezes and almost perpetual sun.

Only one or two bits of news are at hand. George Zahm reports that he and Fran are planning on taking the famous deluxe RoyalScotsman rail trip through Scotland followed, hopefully, by some salmon fishing on the Spey. Having taken the Scotsman ourselves, we can only say that they are in for a real treat.

The older we grow, the more we look nostalgically to the past. Reminiscences of our college and bachelorhood days come easily to mind. Some recent snatches of conversation with classmates furnish examples. Red Martin recalls his trip with Whitey White and Bill Sleigh to Germany, paddling down the Main River from Wurzburg to Frankfurt in Fait boots (rubber kyaks), then on to Heidelberg and bicycling in the Bavarian Alps, sustained mightly by the good German beer. And one is reminded of Charlie Hayward's hilarious tale of his working his way on a jaunt to Europe on a cattle boat with several other guys from Hanover (wasn't Jock Brace one of them?) Do you remember the night before the freshman picture fight? How about the fifth reunion with Pete Blodgett's cannon, the greased pig and Parker Merrow's firework display from Observatory Hill?

Incidentally, what is the most unforgettable moment in your college career? Let me tell you mine. It was in June during final exams. Milt Hart wanted me to hike the Outing Club trail from the top back to Hanover. I couldn't fit all that in but agreed to meet him on Moosilauke on Thursday and hike back via Cube and Moose cabins. I climbed Moosilauke in the rain and found myself alone about dusk at the summit camp. Milt didn't show, and I spent the night alone, no other hikers showing up. During the night, a howling thunder and lightning storm shook the camp to its rafters, then about midnight, moved on. I stepped outside to find myself standing alone under the starlit sky bathed in a full moon and looking at the majestic mountains and the twinkling lights of the towns way below, a truly awesome and humbling moment, one for long and deep thoughts.

Thought for the month: Children may be boring sometimes, but at least they don't pull out pictures of their grandparents.

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