1947

Nostalgia sometimes comes to us like the memory of an old movie. All those bright little happenings that make us smile when we revisit the scenes. I can still see: A water bag fight between the good guys of Crosby and tie other guys of Gile Hall, our first July evening or so in Hanover. The activities attracted a pedestrian who was heading toward Occum Pond. This man in a felt hat, a nice old gent, wondered out loud how hooligans like us ever got to a place like Hanover where we could be much more gentlemanly and set better examples.

"Who is the old guy?" mumbled a couple of freshmen. "Yes, sir you're right, we'll do better," responded a '46, "Good night, President Hopkins."

How many were for once able to lie in bed an extra hour in September, going from daylight savings to standard time, and listen to the navy guys marching and singing cadence.

Was it Sergeant Gant (of the white gloves) everyone loved, as he tried to get the boys in shape for what was to come? And his bellbottomed counterpart, "Tucson" Tousaint, wearing a cocked navy cap and a devilish smile as he urged, "all you leaders of men, keep in step and sing out."

Does Bill Dahlin recall those early morning runs to Storrs Pond, a dozen chin-ups on a tree limb, push-ups, a dive into the icy waters, and a run back to the dorms?

I see troops of lean, hungry students-by day, trudging to West Leb, or to the Norwich Town Hall for the Friday and Saturday night square dances featuring local girls. We would either dance or "eat the tweet."

There is Bob Motlong, studying so hard for his Spanish exam that he locked himself in Bruce Mather's room in Woodward for solitude. There Bob studied for three days, coming out only occasionally for air. He once admitted that he loved to study and write, and would keep on doing so even if his fingers were in shreds.

Twilights on the football and soccer fields, the barfing coaches; the cold bright winter days on the ice at Occum, the slopes of the golf course.

The Jack O'Lantern dogs asking each other about their weekend dates: "will yours be up for the weekend?" Or the seagulls, flying along the Connecticut River over the crew races: "I put all I had on the Harvard boat."

And where were the intellectual experiences, you ask? Al Foley and Lou Stillwell are always in view. Louis Silverman, Professor Morgan, and Robin Robinson, stars of a super math department, also taught life experiences. "Calculus," said Louie Silverman, "is something I do because my grandfather told me, and his great-great grandfather told him, etc., 'Don't ask why, it just works, so do it.'"

Somewhere, on a soft May evening, I see five to ten men's singing groups marching to the steps of Dartmouth Hall the fraternity hums. A beautiful event which alone made the houses worthwhile.

And, now, all this nostalgia blends with lively fifth reunion gatherings at Mass Hall, HerbWick's midnite auction for our 10th, the Gala 25th on Tuck Drive hosted by Frank Weber, and all the friendly, sunny reunions since. The good times are all there for us to see. And the best part is . . .there's another reunion just around the corner, in June, this year. See you soon,

Ham Chase, 63 Maple Avenue, Keene, NH 03431

WITH 45'S 47'S AND 46'S 45th 1991 JUNE 10-13

46/45™ JUNE 10, 11, 12, 13, 1991