Diana's Story

Heartfelt thanks, statue critics, no mo' po-mo.

Love that Comforts Pain

I've been getting the Alumni Magazine for-well, let's see—2 2 years now. I've often read appealing stories in it; sometimes I've seen good journalism, too. But I've never picked up an issue, looked at the cover, and felt a hand just grip me around the neck and force me to read a piece through. Diana Brosnihan's essay ["To Die Loving Life," December] on coping with cancer was a little masterpiece. Not just bravely candid and compelling, but so gracefully written, and coolly restrained, without a shred of self-pity—right up to that heartfelt last sentence, which left me in tears. I only hope she's gotten a hundred letters like this one; she ought to know how powerful an effect her story surely had on everyone who read it.

CONTRIBUTING EDITOR, VANITY FAIR MAGAZINE SAG HARBOR, NEW YORK MBSHNAY@AOL.COM

Due to my having arrived in Hanover in 1954 on Canadian crutches, the fire of heart shown by Diana Golden Brosnihan '84 caused me to swell with admiration and cry. Her dedication to life and love were beautifully expressed. God bless her and He has.

POINT BYRON, NEW YORK

The essay by Diana Golden Brosnihan '84 was particularly poignant. In these tempestuous days she has shared with us nobility and spirit that lift us above the narrowness of our lives and, in doing so, truly epitomizes the season.

DEDHAM, MASSACHUSETTS ALEY@JSSBOSTON.COM

What perfect timing to receive your December issue. When it arrived, I had just finished reading yet another article about Dartmouth in The New York Times that made me cringe. Such a wonderful contrast to then read Diana Golden Brosnihan's moving story. I have some truly remarkable classmates.

SYRACUSE, NEW YORK GDREEHER@MAXWELL.SYR.EDU

As a fellow self-revelatory writer (about my mother's death from breast cancer and our stormy lifelong relationship, about our only son's birth and immediate death from anencephaly), how great it is to hear from another writer, skier, Dartmouth graduate who is not afraid to reveal her pain. The cross Golden Brosnihan bears makes mine seem like a mere splinter. Several years ago I was diagnosed with manic depression. I learned the hard way that the world fears mental illness, and the trip back has often been very difficult.

Diana's personal expose of her newest love, her sometimes crippling mental illness, the pathos of her relentless cancer (just as her astounding personal and profession accomplishments as a skiing phenom are how I previously knew of her) will leave me forever in awe of her as I wipe away my tears. Brava, Diana Golden Brosnihan '84.

MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA

Macro Economics

Congratulations on your article on the savings group of economists at Dartmouth ["Are You Saving Enough?" January]. As chair of the department for the first nine years of our "building program" it was my good fortune to work with colleagues who had a vision of what the department could become—and the will to bring it about. Interestingly enough, that accomplishment resulted not only in a concentration of scholars in the savings area, but it also led to equally strong concentrations in other areas. In international trade and finance we were able to recruit such first-rank economists as Joshua Aizenmen, Doug Irwin, Nancy Marion, and Matt Slaughter, all of whom are engaged in cutting-edge research and are actively involved in the work of organizations such as the IMF and the World Bank. Equally impressive have been the efforts of our labor group, which includes Danny Blanchflower (hired away from the UK), Patty Anderson, and double-dippers Alan Gustman and Steve Venti. I could go on to mention other colleagues of equal stature who have helped make "...the Dartmouth economics department competitive with top research universities in recruiting faculty," but that will have to wait for a future issue of the Alumni Magazine.

PROFESSOR OF ECONOMICS DARTMOUTH COLLEGE HANOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE

Seeing Red

The first time I ever visited Hanover was the weekend after the famous 1940 Dartmouth-Cornell football game ["On theHill," September]. I remember seeing movies of the final minutes of the game in Webster Hall, and the students kept shouting to re-run (about a dozen times) those last few plays. As I remember, "Red" Friesell [who had awarded Cornell an extra, fifth down] refereed a professional game the very next day and got caught in a pile-up that resulted in his breaking a leg. Not a very good weekend for him!

It came out later that he was confused in keeping track of downs because of some differences between college and professional rules. As a result of this mix-up, officials in subsequent years had to choose to officiate college or professional games, but not both.

SCARSDALE, NEW YORK

Webster's Prank

I'm happy that the name Webster Flail will remain ["Fetters," December]. We played a prank there one year. There was (and I hope still is) a life-size statue of Daniel Webster in the foyer inside the front doors. For a dress rehearsal of a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, where we had a girls' chorus from the high school, a group of us arrived early, lugged Daniel down to the girls' dressing room, and placed him in one of the stalls. We put a funnel for a baby spotlight on his head to look like a top hat. Caused quite a sensation! Of course, we had to lug him back upstairs after the rehearsal, but I don't remember any other punishment for the deed except maybe a short lecture from Warner Bentley.

DALLAS, TEXAS

Postmodernist Clothes

So Auschwitz was caused by too much Reason and Truth ["Post-What?" December]? Those darn reasonable truth-telling Nazis! "Yesterday's fact is today's joke"? Here's a typical postmodernist ploy: take a grain of truth (science occasionally revises its interpretations) and elevate it to sweeping proclamation (all facts are subjective). "Reality just isn't out there"? Dream on.

Postmodernism is quasi-revolutionary jargon masking confused thinking.

Postmodernism smugly creates its own binary oppositions while denouncing binary oppositions.

Postmodernism is an adolescent rebellion against authority, a left-over from the 1960s in a world more threatened by anarchy than totalitarianism.

The postmodernist emperor isn't wearing any clothes.

CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS

When the postmodernists succeed in persuading students that they need not face the challenges science presents, anyone convinced that our future depends on our success in facing those challenges must then be concerned. About 39 percent of students signifying an interest in science on entering Dartmouth have had their minds changed by exposure to faculty hooked on postmodernism.

Professor Gerald Auten says, "It's hard to learn about the twentieth century and think of it as progress." He conveniently forgets that this century, for all its trauma:

• Saw a doubling of life expectancy in large parts of the world.

• Saw dramatic advances in mass education and democracy.

• Saw that the 50 percent growth of global population in the last 20 years was accompanied by global 20 percent reductions in chronic malnutrition.

Can postmodernism deliver comparable advances for mankind's health, education, and welfare? Or will the postmodern elite deny the importance of these measures of Progress?

THAYER SCHOOL OF ENGINEERING HANOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE

Critics

The photograph in your wry history of the Classics at Dartmouth ["Dartmouth Undying," December] is not from an undergraduate production. It is rather a production photograph from Sophocles's Antigone as performed by the Theatre Company of the Dartmouth Congregation of the Arts in the summer of 1968. The Company comprised seven or eight professional actors as well as numerous apprentices from colleges as far away as Santa Cruz, California.

I know all this because I was a member of the chorus which was intricately choreographed by Australian choreographer Ray Cook. Several other productions that summer included a then recent Dartmouth graduate (and the company's only Equity journeyman), Jerry Zaks '67.

SAN MARINO, CALIFORNIA

I am ready to expect great things of our new president. Alas, my sanguine mood was slightly deflated by the ante-penulti mate sentence in his recent article "The Best of Both Worlds" [December]: "I am so enthused about the responsibility for enhancing this place—and about the privilege of sharing this enthusiasm with all members of the Dartmouth community...." Having spent a number of years curing my class of '95 daughter of the inelegant use of "so" when "very" or "greatly" is intended, and having long counseled my high school and college students against succumbing to this demotic (dare one say subliterate?) usage, I was taken aback not only that the head of an institution devoted to intellectual excellence would employ it in a formal context, but that the editor of the College's primary medium of communication with its alumni would not have recognized and somehow avoided the unfortunate locution.

Indeed, I was so disappointed that I could not forbear writing this perhaps impertinent letter.

FOSTER, RHODE ISLAND

Remembering David

Though I am probably far from the only person to do so, I feel I must shed a little light on what an incredible person David O'Brien '91 was ["Obituaries," January]. We weren't what I would call Close friends during college, and I cannot speak as eloquently about his activities with the Tucker Foundation as I'm sure my classmates can. But David and I exchanged letters after my graduation, when I was spending a lonely year in Germany. His writings were funny, insightful, and kind. I always looked forward to this reminder of friendship when those letters came.

Late in that year, David wrote me with the very personal news that his father had passed away. I awkwardly wrote back, struggling for what to write and how to show support. As it turned out, a member of my family committed suicide within days of his letter being sent to me. Caught up in my own grief, I never mailed my response.

The letter I penned and never sent sat in a memorabilia box for six years. This Christmas, as I wrote cards, I realized that yet again I had forgotten to find David's new address and send him a card, catching up on that long-lost correspondence that had cheered me so much.

I always thought I'd have more time.

The loss of David O'Brien is a stunning one to his classmates and peers, to the College, and to anyone who encountered him and benefited from his kindness.

ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN ALGRET@EARTHLINK.NET

Observant Reader

A future course entitled "The jewish Family" ["On the Hill," December] is to include material including "the Old Testament and Woody Allen." The term "the Old Testament" is a Christian characterization, inferring that it has been superseded by the New Testament. If you wish to refer to the Hebrew Bible, just do so as such. It includes the Torah (the five books of Moses), the Prophets (from Joshua to Malachi) and the Writings (from Psalms through Chronicles).

Second, Woody Allen has done nothing to warrant inclusion in any study of the Jewish family.

I take some heart, however, in the fact that the edition of the Torah and the readings from the Prophets apparently being used is the Stone Edition, an Orthodox, authorized, and wholly accurate text.

CHEVY CHASE, MARYLAND

Pea-Green Terms

I enjoy the new Dartmouth Mom column. "The Kid Gets a New Room" [November] makes reference to the Dean of First-Year Students. In order to avoid becoming a curmudgeon before my 15 th reunion, perhaps a guide to other changes in campus terminology could be included in a future issue.

LONDON, ENGLAND

Mascots (Continued)

I gather that there are those among my Dartmouth classmates who are not all that happy with the idea of a moose mascot. This, I think, is a case of unfamiliarity breeding contempt. As one with long acquaintance with moose, let me address some moose attributes.

The moose is big. If, while fly-fishing on a Maine stream, you should turn to remove an errant fly from an encroaching alder and find a moose looming, you will be intimidated, overwhelmed, and very much size-challenged.

The moose is strong. In a confrontation between a moose and your suburban sport utility vehicle the moose will win every time—at great cost to you.

The moose is dignified. Moose move like Nobel laureates approaching the King of Sweden on awards day. They seldom run; what they do when motivated is more like a rapid saunter.

The moose is imperturbable. Are there too many mosquitoes? The moose submerges (more or less) in the nearest lake. Are there too many people? A dignified stroll through the crowd causes hasty dispersal. Are there too many cars? See strong, above.

The lobster, the bloodworm, or the mosquito would seem, at least to a Mainer, worthy of consideration, but when compared to the moose, not really world class.

WEST BATH, MAINE

I can't believe that the "Dartmoose" ["On the Hill," January] is seriously being put forward as a symbol for Dartmouth College. The new proposed mascot looks more like "The Cat in the Hat," and I submit that neither is appropriate. To present the College in the guise of this cartoon character truly cheapens the coin and will make us the laughing stock of the Ivy League or any league. Who is pushing this clown?

GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT

Before my tribe of Indians fades completely into the dust, I'd like to shoot one last arrow into the air. Is Dartmouth's pride of its Native American heritage so fragile that the use of the word "Indian," with the associated cheers and costumes, is to be denied? No term should be used that makes a specific group feel degraded or insulted. But can't we come up with something other than Big Green? All it reminds most people of is chlorophyll.

WILMINGTON, NORTH CAROLINA

I believe I have solved the dilemma of what to call Dartmouth students and members of the Dartmouth family. The word is "Earls," derived from the Earl of Dartmouth. An Earl is a warrior, a nobleman, ranking next to a king, a man of noble rank. Dartmouth women could appropriately be called "Countesses" since a woman who in her own right holds the rank of Earl holds the title Countess.

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

The Bandwagon (Cont.)

We had the pleasure of attending the Dartmouth-Princeton football game. The downside of the day, besides losing, was the Dartmouth band's half-time "exhibition." How such a rude, insulting, downright filthy script can be approved by any College person of authority is beyond me. And, something should be done about the bad habit of bands blaring away while the other team has the ball—another example of the lack of good sportsmanship pervading present-day athletics.

GLEN ROCK, NEW JERSEY

The Professor's Wife

I was delighted to see the article on Bravig Imbs '27 and The Professor's Wife [January] which was still a succes de scandale when I was in Hanover. I was particularly pleased to see the notice given to the Lambuths. Myrtle Spindle Lambuth and her husband were a remarkable pair. David Lambuth, professor of English, with his Vandyke, his ample cape, and his white Cadillac, was a striking figure among the chubbers and boots and saddlers of the day, while Mrs. Lambuth, from the jewel of a house which she had built on Rope Ferry Road, dispensed elegant entertainment, painstakingly attuned to art and literature. On occasion, too, she'd appear on Main Street to startle the peasants with her high-but-toned shoes and voluminous flowing garments. Between them, the couple did much to bring refinement and culture to a Hanover which had just emerged from the sweatshirt era.

The treatment of all concerned is so gentle, particularly compared with today's brutality, that it is hard to understand why there was so much fluttering in the dovecotes on its appearance.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Native Voices

The "Betrayal of Samson Occom" [November] portrayed a perspective of the College held by a Native American at the time of its formation. "Prodigal Son" by Jerold Wikoff [Summer '93] provided a perspective of John Ledyard, a European American who arrived at the College in 1772. That class and their countrymen proved singularly ungrateful to their patron, Lord Dartmouth, and his country-men. Both Occom and Ledyard were not entirely happy with Wheelock's young institution. "I have Come This Far" [April '97] showed how Native Americans are making the difficult transition that John Ledyard did not and that Eleazar Wheelock failed in establishing. May their voices be heard in the wilderness.

JUNO BEACH, FLORIDA

Fine!

So the fine for tampering with TV cable is $100 and the fine for underage intoxication is $50??!! ["On the Hill," December.] I guess Treasurer Johnson and Dean Nelson should be taking a new look at the College policy on fines.

EASTFORD, CONNECTICUT

Your story about the College's punitive fine policy brought back memories... Throughout my time at Dartmouth I was the proud custodian of Jake the dog. Dogs were not allowed in the dormitories (punishable by a stiff fine), and Jake and I lived mostly off-campus. Still, because Jake was better behaved than me and at least some of my classmates, we did manage a few terms in Topliff.

I had learned over the years to anticipate the dreaded building inspector. Fortunately, his visits occurred like clockwork, once a semester during a given week and in the middle of the day. Topliff's week found me far away, my room in immaculate condition. Thus I was shocked at the beginning of my last semester to receive a notice of violation and fine, and the further caution that I would be unable to receive my diploma if the fine were left unpaid.

Knowing there was no evidence at the crime scene, I sought out the dean to contest the fine. Granted an audience, I found the dean standing at his window, gazing out. "What proof, sir," I demanded, "did the building inspector present that Jake and I had been living in the dorm room?" Still gazing out the window, the dean replied by asking, "Who said anything about a dog? You were charged with having an illegal waffle iron." With a twinkle in his eye, the dean then inquired whether it was Jake who was waiting patiently outside, below. He went on to comment that, while he knew I was now living off-campus, wouldn't it be best to pay the fine for my illegal waffle iron and close the case?

Fine paid, case closed, lesson learned. Now about Jake and those $ 1.00 per hour fines for late reserved books, that's another story....

CALAIS, VERMONT

Regarding Pyotr

Although Noel Perrin's article ["Curmudgeon," November] was really about wonderful teachers who did not have fancy degrees, I was greatly surprised to see that "Pyotr Jarotski is alive and currently 100 years old...." I knew him very well and was great friends with Pyotr, his wife Elsa, daughter Katja, and Elsa's mother. It was in the living room of their apartment at Wigwam where I met my future wife, Irene von Dehn, whom I married at the White Church in September 1955. Many thanks for the article.

CRESTED BUTTE, COLORADO

As a future chemistry major, I made the mistake of studying Spanish in high school. At college I realized that for chemistry you really need German. But someone talked me into taking Russian instead, with the claim that Russian would be just as useful as German for my career. While this did not prove true, it gave me the privilege of taking Russian from Pyotr Jarotski. His pet phrase: "You must always to study!" I learned more Russian in two terms than I learned German in three. Noel Perrin is right: he was one of the best professors I had at Dartmouth.

DEPARTMENT OF CHEMISTRY JUNIATA COLLEGE HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA REINGOLD@JUNIATA.EDU

I also count Professor Jarotski among the best teachers I've ever had. He took a keen interest in his students, and showered his "boys" with advice on a wide variety of subjects. (Including how to choose a wife: "Study her mother," he used to say, "as 20 years later that's what your wife will be like.")

I studied Russian with Professor Jarotski in 1971-72, during the protests against the Vietnam War. He painfully felt his boys' distress, but worried that their inexperienced idealism would be twisted by subversive elements to the destruction of America. That possible drama did not happen, but others often did in his life. His reunion with his sister in the late 1980s, after not knowing what had become of her for over 70 years, is just one example. I suspect one of the first things he showed her was the portrait of Czar Alexander II given to him by Dartmouth's Russian department as a retirement present.

Although my Russian skills have not survived the decades, I still receive compliments on my pronunciation from Russian-American cab drivers here in New York City. I always give Professor Jarotski credit for that, and then tell them his stories. And they all want to know how much like her mother my wife is.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

On Balance

President Wright spoke of two qualities ["Presidential Range," December] which make Dartmouth so appealing: "a personal scale and a rich educational experience." These are precisely the reasons that led me to transfer from Yale to Dartmouth in September of 1991. Without a doubt, I consider my transfer to be one of the best decisions I have ever made.

Los ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

Frost Bite

Noel Perrin's "Looking for Frost" [December] has raised again the hackles of those seeking to defend Robert Frost against Dartmouth. "The only thing that isn't right is the bronze line of verse," Perrin writes. No kidding. The line is "Something there is that doesn't love a wall." Perrin goes splash into a pool of tepid maple syrup after this, burbling about "Dartmouth's greatest poet." (Why not San Francisco's? He spent more time there.) But anyone outside the official Committee to Co-opt Frost knows that Frost was in favor of walls. He said so, especially to Louis Untermeyer, who published his letter in 1963: "I'm in favor of a skin and fences and tariff walls. I'm in favor of reserves and withholdings."

UNIVERSITY OF CONNECTICUT DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH STORRS, CONNECTICUT

As project officer for the Class of 1961 gift of the Robert Frost statue, I greatly enjoyed Noel Perrin's interesting summation of the College's siting decision. Although the work is indeed well off the beaten track, he's right—the quiet, woodsy location overlooking the Bema is a perfect setting for George Lundeen's rendition of a contemplative Frost.

We're sorry to observe, however, Perrin's lack of enthusiasm for the line Frost is writing— "Something there is that doesn't love a wall." Given the history of this unique gift to the College, to us it seemed most apposite. The poem, of course, describes two neighbors who are forced to share something in common—the wall—toward which they have markedly different feelings. As Perrin notes, not everyone at the College and even a very small number of our own classmates—looked upon the Frost statue with the same excitement felt by 98 percent of the Class of 1961, who supported the work and paid for it. We found the line an apt metaphor as, after considerable difficulty, the statue finally came to rest on the Dartmouth campus.

WINDERMERE, FLORIDA JMM@PALEXCONTAINER. COM

While Professor Perrin gracefully apologizes for the work, imbuing it with allusions to Frost's social separateness, such interpretations appear to have been absent from the imagination and range of the commissioned sculptor, who was chosen for other, more limited strengths.

This is unfortunate. I have seen many arresting images by contemporary sculptors fully capable of addressing the linguistic intentions of influential writers and poets.

These artists unsentimentally teach the young men and women of our complex culture an appreciation of the "traditions" of art: traditions of innovation and invention, courage and risk.

Frost is part of our Dartmouth legacy. But his mission is not buried in the past. We continue to need art worthy of his poetry, for our sakes as well as for his. I hope Professor Perrin's critical insight and aesthetic judgment would be represented on the next search committee for public art on Dartmouth's campus.

BROOKLINE, MASSACHUSETTS

Even chemistry majors know enough to take offense at Mr. Perrin's opening gambit directed toward them. The answer to the question what line follows "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood" is, of course, "And sorry I could not travel both."

I suspect that Mr. Perrin wasn't fishing for a line with "sorry" in it, but perhaps he was, being a curmudgeon and all.

NORTHEASTERN UNIVERSITY BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

Bet this is another casting of the Frost sculpture you wrote about [see photo]. Loveland, Colorado, is a lot closer to Boulder than to Hanover; Lundeen probably took it over in a pickup truck. At first I was offended, but I thought better of that. No one owns Frost, or ever did.

PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA

Asian Alumni

I thought alumni might like to know about an event that took place on a chilly evening in Manhattan last December: the constitution of the Dartmouth Asian Pacific American Alumni Association was ratified. Alumni Director Nels Armstrong '71 came down from Hanover to dedicate the event.

Doug Chia '94, with the help of Minjoo Lee '94 and Dave Hsu '93, had worked hard to found DAPAAA. The executive board is made up of Sarah Cho '97, Feng Hsiang '97, Kishan Putta '96, Yun Kyung Chung '97, Peter Han '96, Jenie Oh '98, Rachel Kim '98, Priscilla Cham '98, and regional coordinators Andrew Kim '95 in the West, Judy Yi '97 Midwest, Stephanie Yu '97 mid-Atlantic, and Belinda Chiu '98 New England.

Your involvement in these endeavors would be most appreciated. The best support you can provide right now is to contact us through scho@painewebber.com (212) 713-8558, or the Alumni Relations hotline at 1 (888) 228-6068.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

Style Points

Internet with a lowercase "1" is simply incorrect. It's not a style option. You will not find a lowercase spelling of "Internet" anywhere else (including the Dartmouth College web site). When the Associated Press, Reuters, the Wall Street Journal, The NewYork Times, and PC Week all agree, you can pretty much bet that's the way it should be handled.

Most people undoubtedly think this is a typo when they see it and that someone isn't carefully proofreading the copy. Also, no one uses the hyphen in "e-mail." Although it's still acceptable, it's considered quaint and not something that would be used by someone involved with the Internet, as I am. I'd prefer you leave it "email." I'd appreciate hearing the rationale you have for spelling a word incorrectly.

WESTON, MASSACHUSETTS DAVIDGRAVES@MEDIAONE.NET

It's a fast-paced world of communications, sowe regularly update DAMStyle, our officialguide, and have decided to conform withmost media and capitalize Internet. We dofeel, though, that it will probably be lowercased sometime in the future, like radio,television, and cyberspace. We prefer e-mail,however, like The New York Times, The New Yorker and others. Incidentally, theword email is in your dictionary, meaningsomething quite different. —Ed.

Armpit Annie

Further to the letters of Joe Mesics and John Krumpe ["Letters,"May, November] which brought me great memories and much laughter, just one more tale to add to the lore of the legendary Annie, femme fatale of the "Pit." Annie had a talent that might be unique among "servers," the ability to bring to the table six glasses of beer without a tray. This feat was accomplished by carrying the glasses between her fingers, which, of course, being immersed in the beer, provided a vivid magnification of her perpetually dirty fingernails.

SPOKANE, WASHINGTON

Work Hard...

I've been concerned that today's college student too often ends up "climbing walls" under today's heavy academic load. Your picture of Cheryl Shannon '00 ["On the Hill," January] climbing the walls inside Robinson Hall was most amusing. Nice to know today's students do goofy things from time to time—and have fun in the process.

HINSDALE, ILLINOIS

Big Green Express

This past Sunday, we found a Dartmouth sweatshirt to be more valuable than an outstretched thumb. As we were walking to catch the Tiburon ferry back to San Francisco, we realized that the ferry was leaving in five minutes—and without us at the pace we were keeping. Unfortunately, none of the passing residents was clamoring to pick us up and drive us the remaining mile to the ferry terminal. Resigning ourselves to the later ferry, we heard a friendly voice call out that recognized the dark green sweatshirt. Luckily for us, we had run into Bill Sweet '59, coincidentally, father of Matt Sweet, fellow'98. Mr. Sweet kindly drove us to the ferry station, where we raced on board with only a minute or two to spare. Is it American Express that advises people not to leave home without it? Hmmm, we think we'll just stick with our Dartmouth sweatshirts.

MONA GUPTA '98 SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

The Brosnihans stand by each other.

We love Frost, but it's notfari exclusive relationship.

Cheryl climbed the walls literally, instead of from stress.