1981

It was Valentine's Day yesterday. Sentimental, tearful dedications pouring out of my radio. Heartwarming features about "love fulfilled" on the local news. Cupid was airborne and taking aim. What garbage. The cherub spotted me...and I kicked his fat ass. It's hard to hit a moving target like Peter Pan.

Do you find it slightly amazing that any of our classmates got married? Where was love at Dartmouth? Lust was all over the place. The winters, the ratio, the booze, and hormones all lent themselves to great wanting. But that great wanting of the heart seemed curiously absent. Or at least unrealized. Couples seemed hard to hnd. There were a few. My buddy John Westerfield and his gal, Marlissa. We loved Marlissa. So did Westy. Marlissa is now his bride and the mother of his three (?) children. Westy was just made a managing director at Morgan Stanley in New York. There was my roommate and good friend, John Madden, and the ever-present Francesca Flynn. Fresca was a delight, and John, always a smart boy (a UCLA M.B.A.), did not pass up his chance for lasting love. They live in Flouston, where I suspect John is making money and Fresca is working for a theatre. Call me.

I read in Institutional Investor that Jeffrey Gundlach is the managing director and senior portfolio manager of mortgage-backed securities for Trust Co. of the West here in Los Angeles. The assets under his management amount to $12 billion. Twelve billion. Jeff, if you're not yet married, may I suggest a prenuptial agreement? MatthewHunter, a violist with the National Arts Centre Orchestra in Ottawa, has just won a position with the Berlin Philharmonic, one of the finest orchestras in the world. Matt is only the second North American to win a position in that acclaimed string section. Jeff, just a thought—for next Valentine's Day, fly in Matt and his new Teutonic friends for the evening.

For those of you who spend most of your evenings alone—that would be me you could curl up with a good book. How about The Massachusetts Legacy by Christopher Kenneally. It's an entertaining collection of some 150 events that happened in the Bay State and had a lasting effect on the course of national and sometimes international events. For those who live and love in Massachusetts, it's the perfect bedtime companion. Nancy Baskin could read it to her husband. Or better yet, to her new baby, Abigail. Nancy is married to Jorge Plutzky. Nancy kept her name. Jorge is a Harvard-educated doctor and a terrific guy. His family are Cuban Jews. Which makes Abigail one-half Juban. Nancy practices "family law' in Boston—a euphemism for those situations where Cupid's arrows are poison dipped. Nancy is also the godmother to Scott Stuart's daughter Jessica. Jessica is a dream. Beautiful, smart, kind, loaded. Jessica has a little brother, Garratt. The G-man is an animal; Dartmouth 2016 written all over him. And Scott is in love. The former Lisa Garratt. Lisa is an All-Star, one of my favorite people in the world. Scott s a lucky man. Lucky in love.

The drawing on the cover of this week s The New Yorker is of a young couple seated at a table in posh surroundings. They've turned away from each other. A rose between them goes unadmired. Two flutes of champagne go untouched. A Cupid flies overhead, taking aim. Arrows are everywhere, none has hit its mark. It's a funny drawing. And a little sad. Yet the fresh arrow in Cupid's bow looks to be aimed right at her. I hope its aim is true.

1047 Lincoln Blvd., Apt. 10, Santa Monica, CA 90403, (310) 260-9515; . IV, 4807 Dover Road, Bethesda, MD 20816,