1985

Recently, I participated in local Dartmouth alumni inter- viewing. In case you are not familiar with this, it is a way for the admissions office to receive an unrelated write-up on each appli- cant to the College, especially those unable to visit campus. I am told that it evolved back in the days when Hanover was considered difficult to get to given its isolated New England location (versus the booming crossroads that it is today). Anyway, the tradition continues and this past February I agreed to help again. Happy to do my part for the alma mater, I scheduled the student interviews. Well, the fan just about ended right there.

I received the "Form-6" for the applicants, which I knew provided nothing of substance other than their address, phone number and secondary school. But, wait a minute. What's this date on the form? A different one on each form but in both cases the same year—l982? Hey, I recognize that date—spring of our freshman year at Dartmouth. You know, the time when you really started knowing your way around the place. You'd made it through your first New Hampshire winter; took skiing for gym; began language lab; perhaps determined you were not pre-med; maybe you joined a sorority or fraternity; started your first season of lacrosse or baseball; enjoyed spring break touring with the Glee Club.

Well, guess what, my fellow nostalgic buddies: That was the year these applicants were born—true!!

Suddenly, my interviewing enthusiasm gave way to the harsh realization that we are no longer among the "young alumni" of Dartmouth. I mean, how can we be when these kids—and, yes, I do mean kids—were just entering {literally) the real world while we were doing our best to avoid it? Well, I muddled my way through, completely over- whelmed by my sense of a "generation gap" and highly dubious that I provided any insight into Dartmouth for them. So here's some insight into a few classmates:

I recently spotted Ted Meisel plugging his new business in the San Francisco offices of a would-be financial backer. Looking very energetic and dot.com-like, Ted seemed capable of closing any gap (generational or otherwise). I got nothing out of Ted regarding his business venture—you know how secretive those entrepreneurs can be. But he did recognize me and I do know that when he's not touring the Valley for dough, he is based in L.A.

If Ted needs counsel, he can choose from among several of our class lawyers including Jeff Healy (in Cleveland, Ohio, with wife Julia and their 2-year old son, Andrew), Steve Hartmann (in Bethesda with wife Ally and sons Will, 2, and Ben, 7 months) and Diane Bonina (in Chicago with husband Allan and kids Lian, Chandler and Addison). Diane joyously reports new March arrivals to Sue Finegan (second son Jack, weighing in at more than 10 pounds) and Barbara Codding Rivard (first child Olivia, apparently weighing considerably less than Sue's son).

Meanwhile, I will continue to interview local Dartmouth candidates while I will also continue to believe that my own kids are still too young to reinforce these early whisperings of the generation gap. But it is increasingly obvious that you cannot stall Mother Time. Why, just the other weekend my husband was running an errand with my oldest when they passed a store with a huge sign: "Lowest Prices on Discs, Tapes and Albums." As my son read the sign, he inquisitively turned to my husband and asked: "Dad, what's an albums—true!

Keep the news coming. All the best to all of you.

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