1983
I feel guilty and ungrateful. For years now I've scolded and nagged about sending information about yourselves. And then you do and it sits on my desk for months. Take, for instance, the charming card from Sheila and Danny Goggin with the picture of the house on the front of it (and a lovely house it looks, too, a rather traditional shingled, two-story affair—I'm assuming it's theirs). There's a new Goggin living there now: Justine Marie, by now 11/2 years old. Her advanced age isn't entirely my fault. She was almost one when I received the card. "Her 3-year-old brother Buck thinks she is the greatest," her obviously very busy parents wrote.
In the "Flattery Will Get You Everywhere, Particularly into This Column" department, Chip Grace's wife, Lyn, writes. "Warren is too uninspired to write in with his news—boring mostly, even though I told him you'd probably alter it subtly to make it more interesting." (In fact, Lyn paid me far more lavish compliments than that but modesty forbids repeating them.) Lyn reports that Warren, as Chip apparently insists on being called now, is the proud father of two boys, Teddy 2 and Louis 1, and (nonetheless? therefore?) spends much of his free time dreaming about being a fishing guide in New Zealand.
Lyn Grace really is my new best friend. She even tosses in news of a classmate to whom she has no relationship by marriage. George Loss, Lyn tells me, is an M.D. in Chicago, pursuing when last heard from an interest in transplant techniques. He has two daughters and presumably (although you never know in these changing times) a wife.
Speaking of wives, the last time I spoke with Charles DeGunzburg, he claimed to be unattached. I had to read in "W" that on October 20, Charles married the young and lovely Nina Bauer. Here are some other tidbits I picked up from that magazine: Charles proposed on the ski slopes of Sun Valley on his birthday; the bride works for Seaman Schepps, her father's international jewelry business; her wedding dress was designed by Herve Leger; the honeymoon was planned for the Far East. Here's my favorite part: Charles loves helping pick out clothes for Nina, who likens their shopping expeditions in Paris to that classic Julia Roberts's shopping sequence in PrettyWoman.
I once said here that never again would I mention in this column a once all-too-oftmentioned classmate. Alas, I find myself forced to recant. I lack the courage of my convictions. But judge for yourselves from the following letter, printed here in its entirety: "Dear Ms. Rosch: "You have publicly insulted me by stating in the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine's '83 Class Notes that you will never allow my name to appear in the notes again.
"You have ignored my previous note asking for an explanation.
"As I believe I have never met you nor offended you in any way I am at a loss to explain your behavior.
"I feel I must demand a public apology or your immediate resignation as the '83 Class Notes correspondent [sp—at least I assume so, or is the writer saying I was named in an adultery trial, an accusation no doubt actionable in its own right].
"Sincerely,
"Ted Demopoulos '83 "cc: The Alumni Magazine, The Alumni Office, President Freedman" You're right, Ted. I resign. Ha, ha—April Fool's. I wish I were kidding about this last entry. It is my sad duty to inform you of the death of our classmate, Mark Trauner. Mark succumbed this past December to brain cancer. Those of you fortunate enough to have known Mark are probably aware that the former captain of our golf team followed his dream and became, after a short detour through the financial world, a professional golfer. He still managed to play on the professional circuit even after his cancer was diagnosed and he had undergone one of two operations. I didn't know Mark well at Dartmouth but it's difficult to fathom that he's no longer with us. My deepest condolences to Mark's wife, Kathy, and their daughter, Kimberly.
7 Berenda Way, Menlo Park, CA 94025;
Arvo Mikkanen "83 on mascots, p. 33
