1980

I suspect that many of us have picked up a Barron's or Peterson's college guide in recent years, browsed the section on Dartmouth and noted that our alma mater has maintained its reputation as the school-of-choice for elite students who "work hard and play hard." I'm comfortable with this image, especially when I consider the alternatives. All work and no play? All play and no work? Half-hearted efforts at both work and play? Environments like these may suit other people but not people like us.

We were one of the last undergraduate classes to use typewriters; later, we became the first generation of professionals to carry pagers, mobile phones, laptops and now, BlackBerrys.These days I'm not sure which hurts more, my thumbs or my brain. As a hard-working 'BO you deserve some relief from the pressures of 24-hour access. Relax! It's the summertime, the best time of year to add somec yin to all that yang.

I have never known anyone more gifted at balancing work and play than Earl Grossman. Earl has My integrated golf, alpine sports and travel into a lifestyle that is centered around his responsibilities as a husband, father and successful entrepreneur in Charlottesville, Virginia. He recendy purchased a travel services company in suburban Philadelphia, which enables us to get together frequently. Looking for a new way to play hard? Earl recommends heli-snowboarding. Last winter Earl rode the thigh-deep powder of Mica Creek, in a remote section of British Columbia, and in 2008 he plans to ride the fresh snow of the Chugach Range in Alaska. If you can't wait until winter, take note: It's prime heli-snowboarding season right now in the central Andes of Chile.

Rick Gemberling spends part of every summer on New Hampshire's Lake Winnipesaukee...literally. This summer Rick will once again abandon his safe, comfortable, central New Jersey suburban life to indulge in the reckless thrills of barefoot water skiing. The image of a bear riding a tricycle on thin ice comes to mind. To keep a big bare footer like Rick on the surface, the boat must travel at speeds greater than 40 miles per hour. Rick has learned some useful things along the way: When he's underwater he knows the boat is going too slow; when he bounces on his torso before planting he knows the boat is going too fast.

Regrettably, Greg Dunn and wife Karen will not be making their annual pilgrimage to the Lobster Shack in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, a popular oceanside eatery, ending an uninterrupted five year string of summertime visits. But the Dunns encourage you to go. One time, while placing their orders, they heard a familiar-but-disagreeable noise, louder than the shriek of a gull and softer than the blast of a foghorn. Their investigation turned up former roommate and fellow Virginia resident Tim Hinman, who was shouting in the parking lot.

I've had chance encounters with classmates. A few years back Delta Air Lines seated me behind Jeff Poorman, who used his seat back as a weapon in the merciless treatment of my legs. And I once ran into Jim Novo at a roadside rest stop. To wind down from the pressures he faces as a consultant in St. Petersburg, Florida, Jim bakes bread the old fashioned way, engaging himself in a therapeutic process that strips away the impositions of technology.

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