1941

October rates in my book as the grandest month of all, thanks largely to nature's bounty in the northeastern part of the U.S. where I have lived most of my life and all of us shared some time half a century ago. Now we were sophomores, if we hadn't been invited to leave the College or departed for other reasons, graduating from the Commons to Thayer, deciding about fraternities, selecting majors, and possibly beginning to notice with concern the mach- inations of one Adolf Hitler. But these were salad days as we sat in the west stands of a Saturday afternoon and watched the backs go tearing by—as well as a tapestry of autumnal hues draped over the ridgeline east of Hanover. In October it was still too soon even to be worried about hour exams. So having buried our beanies, we flexed the granite muscles of upperclassmen and experienced another memorable Dartmouth year.

I confess also to liking October because its 31 days include my birthday on the 18th. Now I know the conventional wisdom about despairing of birthdays in the autumn of our lives, but Estelle Ramey, an endocrinologist and grandmother to boot, takes a different view that appeals to me. Nature, says Ramey, is an enemy because of the myriad ways in which it can end one's life sooner than desired (check that against the conventional wisdom of a benign nature). Accordingly, Ramey asserts, each birthday, and all the more the higher the number, is an occasion for celebration in representing another year of human triumph over the enemy. I'll drink to that.

Enough of these monkeydoodles, on with the news. Of Frank Brooks for starters. The U. of Penn., where Frank is professor of medicine and of physiology, reports his selection as "the first 'Master in Gastroenterology' by Janssen Pharmaceutical in cooperation with the American Gastroenterological Association (AGA)." Frank's focus is "primarily on the role of nervous control in gastrointestinal functions and the regulation of pancreatic exocrine function." His work has found expression in "79 original papers, 35 reviews, 9 books, and 29 book chapters." Not a bad 40 years' worth, not bad at all, Frank. And of Jack Richardson, whose "Distinguished Professor" award from UNH, previously reported here, was the subject of a nice piece in a Dover, N.H., weekly. Similarly, in a Boston daily, an article on culinary newsletters includes the Kitchen Times that Howie Wilson has published since 1972 to inform his subscribers about "food, cooking, wine, people," and places." Art Hills writes that we did "pretty well" in the 1988 Alumni Fund, although 54 donors in 1987 opted either to pass it up or cut it back this year. (Whom do we punish by withholding?) Lots of classmate news in the Dope, and of Dartmouth in the letter from Ed Larner marking the end of his three-year term on the Alumni Council. Good work, Ed. Finally, the following from President Freedman in response to a letter of mine: "It is comforting to know that many alumni approve of my actions." Amen—and Peace and Joy.

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