I'm composing this now from home, confident that a few die-hard party animals are still partying hearty at 8:15 a.m. in Nashville and reasonably secure that Vandy will keep up its incredible spate of victories this season and beat Duke. (It does make one wonder if we might be living in Alpha and Omega times--when he who has been last shall be first [in the SEC East, that is]--well, what else can one say but: GO 'DORES!!!!)
This is my valediction to y'all for this Reunion season's blogfest. It's been kind of weirdly fun for me to share these strange little musings from our collective past with you all; I sincerely hope you all enjoyed reading them as much as I did writing them. In all fairness, I gotta say that I learned a lot last night at our Class of '83 Party: I learned that, yes, Frank Cooper DOES have back hair (and that's OK as I do, too, Frank...back we go to that TMI thing...). I learned that Prof. Lachs' book sales jumped by at least one copy of his book, as one of you apparently agreed with my blog entry on "In Love With Life" and bought it. (I'm glad to know you thought it was a good read, too; friends, I wouldn't steer you wrong! There's just too many of you to try to evade for the rest of my life if I did, for starters.)
I learned that I most cruelly and wrongly, but lacking the requisite malice aforethought, attributed pet-tarantula ownership to Mike Castellon, when in fact the spider was owned by his roomie. If there is a tort of libel of tarantula title, I suppose I'm now an offender. I learned that at least one of my old freshman buddies in Lupton Two is well on his way to being the next Louis Rukeyser, and a lot of us got to get reacquainted with and mend fences with old friends and acquaintances. Of course, the nature of a party like last night can confine one to the kind of "13 questions" drill that compacts an enormous range of time and life experiences--but, that didn't necessarily have to make the reconnecting any less real or enjoyable now, did it? I also learned that a lot of us really look amazingly well preserved after 25 years of life's vicissitudes. And I got away from it all without hearing at least one chorus of "Barnacle Bill the Sailor" being sung by a group of my musically-inclined (or is that challenged?) buddies...darn!
To our Reunion Class planners, Ralph, Stuart, Julie, Martha and Laurie: thanks to all of you for helping coordinate a fantastic job (and for someone, somehow, being on the right side of the Almighty to get the rain to stop well in advance of the party). To all of you, may your next five years be as prosperous, as enjoyable, and as full of life as you can possibly make them to be. Let's all try to savor those moments of wisdom, humor, impact, and meaning when we can catch them during our otherwise hectic days of working, coping, and dealing with all of those things that seem to keep coming at each of us non-stop.
Cheers for now; hope to see you again five years hence; and for now, Vaya con Dios. Regards-- Nick
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
V.U. 25th Reunion--The Double Secret Probation Edition
"We spend four years together, then we spend only a few hours together every five years." That's the rap on reunions (of all kinds) I got from a friend recently. Purely from a time perspective, it's tough to refute that statement. I've never actually calculated the hours and minutes we spent during our four-year sojourn as members of the Class of '83, but such could be very easily computed. By comparison with the time we'll have available to us during a Reunion weekend to reconnect, the latter does seem a little shabby. For those of us with children (some in or rapidly approaching college themselves), for those of us with busy work schedules, and for all of us now facing the ever-increasing expenses and hassles of travel: what's the reward? Where's the payoff?
I'm betting the payoff for me will be the smile of recognition on an old friend's or acquaintance's face when I see them on that certain Friday in late October. Worse, I'm afraid the payoff for someone else may be reminding me of the time I tried sneaking up on some buddies on a cold snowy day outside Sarratt Center and slid 30 feet on my butt when my feet hit the ice...or the time I tried eating spaghetti at Rand with a mouthful of Novocaine--hey, kids, don't try this at home!!-- just as a girl I was hoping to impress sat down to talk (my humiliation was complete)...or the infamous "Wild Turkey" party in Tolman Hall...or how many folks can fit into a red MG Midget (after much scientific analysis, five, in extreme discomfort and very unsafely)...or the time at a Vandy friend's wedding when my shoes exploded on the dance floor (don't ask; rest assured, it's true)...or a host of others. OK, I've outed myself on these lesser offenses. Each of us have other offenses and tales of laughter and woe for our friends to share, or for us to desperately hide from our friends and pray to God that they don't remember through the veil of time and space.
(As an aside: I wonder if there's a statute of limitations on the offense of crawling through the steam tunnels? Is there is a Double Secret Probation codicil in the Vanderbilt charter that grants the Chancellor unlimited privilege in time of campus emergency? I sure hope not for, if so, then Dean Potter's old office likely has a list somewhere with quite a few of our names listed on Double Secret Probation status for a VERY long time now.)
Let's see if we can conjure up some memories this October that will get us talking and laughing for years to come with each other (or if we're really sorry individuals, laughing AT each other). To paraphrase Dean Wormer of "Animal House": Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through Reunion. Or, it it??? You be the judge this fall....
I'm betting the payoff for me will be the smile of recognition on an old friend's or acquaintance's face when I see them on that certain Friday in late October. Worse, I'm afraid the payoff for someone else may be reminding me of the time I tried sneaking up on some buddies on a cold snowy day outside Sarratt Center and slid 30 feet on my butt when my feet hit the ice...or the time I tried eating spaghetti at Rand with a mouthful of Novocaine--hey, kids, don't try this at home!!-- just as a girl I was hoping to impress sat down to talk (my humiliation was complete)...or the infamous "Wild Turkey" party in Tolman Hall...or how many folks can fit into a red MG Midget (after much scientific analysis, five, in extreme discomfort and very unsafely)...or the time at a Vandy friend's wedding when my shoes exploded on the dance floor (don't ask; rest assured, it's true)...or a host of others. OK, I've outed myself on these lesser offenses. Each of us have other offenses and tales of laughter and woe for our friends to share, or for us to desperately hide from our friends and pray to God that they don't remember through the veil of time and space.
(As an aside: I wonder if there's a statute of limitations on the offense of crawling through the steam tunnels? Is there is a Double Secret Probation codicil in the Vanderbilt charter that grants the Chancellor unlimited privilege in time of campus emergency? I sure hope not for, if so, then Dean Potter's old office likely has a list somewhere with quite a few of our names listed on Double Secret Probation status for a VERY long time now.)
Let's see if we can conjure up some memories this October that will get us talking and laughing for years to come with each other (or if we're really sorry individuals, laughing AT each other). To paraphrase Dean Wormer of "Animal House": Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through Reunion. Or, it it??? You be the judge this fall....
Monday, May 26, 2008
Profs Without Pitchers*
* With full and complete apologies to whoever ran the "Pitchers and Profs" programs at the Overcup Oak.
Offered for your consideration are some very random recollections of just a few of the lecturers and professors. (For those of you who were, for instance, Nursing, Pre-Med and Engineering students, please accept my apologies in advance, since these memories are drawn from experiences that are by necessity heavily weighted on the A&S side of the house. If you don't like it...well, you'll get over it. Time heals all wounds.)
John Lachs: Several years ago, Professor Lachs wrote a book aptly entitled "In Love With Life." If you have not read it and if you were half the fan of Dr. Lachs that many of us philosopher-kings-and-queens were, then trust me on this: you really need to read this book. It is just like the best of his lectures: distilled and erudite to their essence, humorous and sometimes poignant, but always full of deep insights and wisdom. He'd have half the class giggling like schoolkids when he'd pepper some otherwise-dry reference to John Stuart Mill or Jeremy Bentham's theories with a way-out hedonistic comment like, "To the Utilitarians, this is a very good thing: to them, it's just as good as getting stoned out of your mind on Friday night. Or, like you just had really great sex." (I always figured that the half of us who were laughing were doing so nervously, as we had little or no practical experience with either of those things. Or, I figured, somebody else actually had, and they got the inside joke. One never really knew.)
Madame Popovich: Fine Arts program. A brilliant woman and Yugoslavian emigre with a categorical and, as best I could tell, darn-near-photographic memory when it came to art of the classical and pre-Renaissance periods, but she did not take distractions, interruptions or whispering in class at all well. Mme. P. never hesitated to stop class in mid-sentence to lecture the offenders sharply. A sampling of this follows: "The next slide is of a ....Quiet, you children!!! I am not your kindergarten teacher!!! Now, what was I saying? Yesss...the next slide is of a fine Doric temple...."
Robert H. Birkby: He must have educated more lawyers of the future than any other Vanderbilt professor outside of the Law School. His Constitutional Interpretation and American Political Thought classes had a fearsome reputation, and Dr. Birkby was allegedly Kingsbury of "The Paper Chase," Dean Roscoe Pound and Gen. Patton rolled into one. He had an amazing stunt, replicated daily, that could not be repeated at VU anymore. That is the case because, you'll recall, once upon a time in Vandyland, professors could smoke in class--and smoke, Bob Birkby most certainly did. When he finished a cigarette, he'd take a brief glance at its remnants to ensure he'd smoked up all its last dregs; deftly flick it to the floor with a snap of the wrist; and while he leaned on his desk or podium, his right foot would snap out, squash the stub, and with a quarter-turn side kick that would do Beckham or Pele proud, sent the stomped-out butt careening some 6 to 7 feet into the halls of Calhoun's 3rd floor as it passed under his classroom's doorjamb. He did this entire drill--I swear, I am not making any of this up--in about 3 seconds of elapsed time. Passers-by unused to this routine would do a double-take as the spent butt whooshed by their feet. One day, the guy who was the supreme wiseass of the Poli Sci undergrads, and the local Miller beer campus rep, waited until Birkby did his usual procedure with his last cigarette. Imagine the look on Prof. Birkby's face as the same butt came whooshing back under his door, mere seconds after he had kicked it out.
Prof. Thweatt: Economics was not an area of the curriculum that came naturally to many of us, but at least he made macroeconomics kind of fun. (OK, that's qualified somewhat by admitting that he made it as fun as it can be to a non-economist.) He was fond of peppering his allusions to economic choice theory by giving students a choice between various kinds of Scotch whisky versus Jack Daniel's. Mel Thweatt was no great fan of Reaganomics trickle-down economics, and he made that quite clear in his lectures. (Before I saw it written on a bathroom wall in Sarratt Center, I heard someone mumble in his class, "The Laffer Curve is a joke.") Prof. Thweatt had been a real globetrotter and apparently lived in India for some years, references to which he would also drop into his lectures occasionally.
Professor Delzell: Dr. Delzell was the expert on Modern European History in the History Department, and he never ceased to cause people to squirm when he talked about Hitler's sex life or horse lovers to whimper when he talked about rioting Parisians in the 1930s trying to cut the legs of soldiers' horses with razors taped to poles. He encouraged his classes to sit in on some showings that the Fine Arts program featured of classical movies and documentaries like "Night and Fog," "The Grand Illusion" and "The Battleship Potemkin," which was a very ecumenical way to encourage inter-disciplinary studies. Besides learning much history, one could also end up with a better overall cultural appreciation by taking Dr. Delzell's suggestions on these great films to heart. While the map of Europe--complete with all rivers and mountain ranges--that he had his students prepare at the beginning of Modern European History was an utter pain to construct, the general knowledge it provided of European terrain proved useful with the Iron Curtain's fall and the conflicts in the Balkans and the former Yugoslavia.
Professor Bryant: One of the stalwarts of the Mathematics Department, he was just about the only teacher I ever had, whether in or before college, who actually had me enjoying mathematics. Professor Bryant was also one of the kindliest professors I ever encountered at Vanderbilt. Having him as a teacher and lecturer was much like being patiently taught some very difficult tasks by your favorite uncle, who also just happened to have a passing physical resemblance to the late comic actor Ed Wynn. Every time I have to do anything in my work that deals with statistics or probability, I still think fondly of him and his TA, almost 30 years later.
Harry Howe Ransom: A Political Science Department member and cousin, I believe, of the great Vanderbilt Fugitive John Crowe Ransom: instead of looking at his students' faces while lecturing, he would kind of gaze upwards, as if he was looking at something hovering collectively over the heads of the class. (It was speculated that in doing so, he was actually carrying on an invisible conversation with McGeorge Bundy, George Kennan or one of those other diplomat-statesmen.) Nevertheless, his criticisms of the CIA and U.S. intelligence system--he had been an expert witness for Sen. Frank Church's Congressional committee, which investigated the 1960s and 1970s intelligence failures that contributed to the Bay of Pigs, the Cuban Missile Crisis, Vietnam and the Iranian hostage crisis of our own college days--were spot-on at the time and seem remarkably prescient now, in that he posited that the intelligence system was structured to give our leaders exactly the kind of information that the policymakers wanted to hear--not what they needed to hear. This occurred 25 years before most Americans had ever heard of words like "stovepiping." Or "waterboarding," for that matter. One can muse on the fact that the title of one of the textbooks he used was called "The Irony of Vietnam: The System Worked."
We'll save other memories for another time. Until we talk again...Vaya con Dios, folks.
Offered for your consideration are some very random recollections of just a few of the lecturers and professors. (For those of you who were, for instance, Nursing, Pre-Med and Engineering students, please accept my apologies in advance, since these memories are drawn from experiences that are by necessity heavily weighted on the A&S side of the house. If you don't like it...well, you'll get over it. Time heals all wounds.)
John Lachs: Several years ago, Professor Lachs wrote a book aptly entitled "In Love With Life." If you have not read it and if you were half the fan of Dr. Lachs that many of us philosopher-kings-and-queens were, then trust me on this: you really need to read this book. It is just like the best of his lectures: distilled and erudite to their essence, humorous and sometimes poignant, but always full of deep insights and wisdom. He'd have half the class giggling like schoolkids when he'd pepper some otherwise-dry reference to John Stuart Mill or Jeremy Bentham's theories with a way-out hedonistic comment like, "To the Utilitarians, this is a very good thing: to them, it's just as good as getting stoned out of your mind on Friday night. Or, like you just had really great sex." (I always figured that the half of us who were laughing were doing so nervously, as we had little or no practical experience with either of those things. Or, I figured, somebody else actually had, and they got the inside joke. One never really knew.)
Madame Popovich: Fine Arts program. A brilliant woman and Yugoslavian emigre with a categorical and, as best I could tell, darn-near-photographic memory when it came to art of the classical and pre-Renaissance periods, but she did not take distractions, interruptions or whispering in class at all well. Mme. P. never hesitated to stop class in mid-sentence to lecture the offenders sharply. A sampling of this follows: "The next slide is of a ....Quiet, you children!!! I am not your kindergarten teacher!!! Now, what was I saying? Yesss...the next slide is of a fine Doric temple...."
Robert H. Birkby: He must have educated more lawyers of the future than any other Vanderbilt professor outside of the Law School. His Constitutional Interpretation and American Political Thought classes had a fearsome reputation, and Dr. Birkby was allegedly Kingsbury of "The Paper Chase," Dean Roscoe Pound and Gen. Patton rolled into one. He had an amazing stunt, replicated daily, that could not be repeated at VU anymore. That is the case because, you'll recall, once upon a time in Vandyland, professors could smoke in class--and smoke, Bob Birkby most certainly did. When he finished a cigarette, he'd take a brief glance at its remnants to ensure he'd smoked up all its last dregs; deftly flick it to the floor with a snap of the wrist; and while he leaned on his desk or podium, his right foot would snap out, squash the stub, and with a quarter-turn side kick that would do Beckham or Pele proud, sent the stomped-out butt careening some 6 to 7 feet into the halls of Calhoun's 3rd floor as it passed under his classroom's doorjamb. He did this entire drill--I swear, I am not making any of this up--in about 3 seconds of elapsed time. Passers-by unused to this routine would do a double-take as the spent butt whooshed by their feet. One day, the guy who was the supreme wiseass of the Poli Sci undergrads, and the local Miller beer campus rep, waited until Birkby did his usual procedure with his last cigarette. Imagine the look on Prof. Birkby's face as the same butt came whooshing back under his door, mere seconds after he had kicked it out.
Prof. Thweatt: Economics was not an area of the curriculum that came naturally to many of us, but at least he made macroeconomics kind of fun. (OK, that's qualified somewhat by admitting that he made it as fun as it can be to a non-economist.) He was fond of peppering his allusions to economic choice theory by giving students a choice between various kinds of Scotch whisky versus Jack Daniel's. Mel Thweatt was no great fan of Reaganomics trickle-down economics, and he made that quite clear in his lectures. (Before I saw it written on a bathroom wall in Sarratt Center, I heard someone mumble in his class, "The Laffer Curve is a joke.") Prof. Thweatt had been a real globetrotter and apparently lived in India for some years, references to which he would also drop into his lectures occasionally.
Professor Delzell: Dr. Delzell was the expert on Modern European History in the History Department, and he never ceased to cause people to squirm when he talked about Hitler's sex life or horse lovers to whimper when he talked about rioting Parisians in the 1930s trying to cut the legs of soldiers' horses with razors taped to poles. He encouraged his classes to sit in on some showings that the Fine Arts program featured of classical movies and documentaries like "Night and Fog," "The Grand Illusion" and "The Battleship Potemkin," which was a very ecumenical way to encourage inter-disciplinary studies. Besides learning much history, one could also end up with a better overall cultural appreciation by taking Dr. Delzell's suggestions on these great films to heart. While the map of Europe--complete with all rivers and mountain ranges--that he had his students prepare at the beginning of Modern European History was an utter pain to construct, the general knowledge it provided of European terrain proved useful with the Iron Curtain's fall and the conflicts in the Balkans and the former Yugoslavia.
Professor Bryant: One of the stalwarts of the Mathematics Department, he was just about the only teacher I ever had, whether in or before college, who actually had me enjoying mathematics. Professor Bryant was also one of the kindliest professors I ever encountered at Vanderbilt. Having him as a teacher and lecturer was much like being patiently taught some very difficult tasks by your favorite uncle, who also just happened to have a passing physical resemblance to the late comic actor Ed Wynn. Every time I have to do anything in my work that deals with statistics or probability, I still think fondly of him and his TA, almost 30 years later.
Harry Howe Ransom: A Political Science Department member and cousin, I believe, of the great Vanderbilt Fugitive John Crowe Ransom: instead of looking at his students' faces while lecturing, he would kind of gaze upwards, as if he was looking at something hovering collectively over the heads of the class. (It was speculated that in doing so, he was actually carrying on an invisible conversation with McGeorge Bundy, George Kennan or one of those other diplomat-statesmen.) Nevertheless, his criticisms of the CIA and U.S. intelligence system--he had been an expert witness for Sen. Frank Church's Congressional committee, which investigated the 1960s and 1970s intelligence failures that contributed to the Bay of Pigs, the Cuban Missile Crisis, Vietnam and the Iranian hostage crisis of our own college days--were spot-on at the time and seem remarkably prescient now, in that he posited that the intelligence system was structured to give our leaders exactly the kind of information that the policymakers wanted to hear--not what they needed to hear. This occurred 25 years before most Americans had ever heard of words like "stovepiping." Or "waterboarding," for that matter. One can muse on the fact that the title of one of the textbooks he used was called "The Irony of Vietnam: The System Worked."
We'll save other memories for another time. Until we talk again...Vaya con Dios, folks.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
A little free (and highly random) association for y'all...
Free Association:
Since my latest blog dealt with some fairly serious themes, let's shift gears. Are you up for a little free association about your years at Vanderbilt? If so, let's go....
Your freshman dorm: was it Vaughn; Lupton (I was on Lupton 2); anything in Kissam Quad?
Remember your first class freshman year? Mine was General Biology 101. I have mercifully forgotten the professor's name but I recall vividly that he walked in to the huge classroom in the Science Center, clasped his hands behind his back, looked up at the 100-odd of us, and intoned: "Class, this is a first. This will be the first time everyone is here and everyone is quiet"...and with that, he proceeded to begin a highly detailed lecture on the cell. We all scrambled for pens and notebooks as he looked at us over sardonically raised eyebrows. Oh, how I hated that class, and my grades showed it, too. We had great fun later in lab every week dissecting cats, frogs, and the biggest formaldehyde-laced worm I never hope to hang on my fishing line.
Your sophomore dorm: Barnard (a/k/a the Barnyard--yeah, that was my place); living in exile (or so it seemed to some) over on Peabody...or, were you one of the lucky souls who got a place off-campus? Mike Castellan's and Rick Cozby's place was strategically located virtually next door to Obie's Flying Tomato; they had a pet tarantula. (Rick and Mike, that is, not Obie's so far as I know. At least, I don't remember ever eating an large and hairy arachnid leg on one of their pizzas. Of course, I often had imbibed various mind-numbing substances before I began to eat eating said pizzas at 2 a.m.)
Off-campus places to hang out and eat (late night or early morning; hey, what's the diff?) Steak and Egg (good eats), Krystal (better eats), The Sub Station II (far superior), Mac's Country Cooking (OK, that had to be the apex of undergrad soul food); and, of course, TGI Friday's, Houston's, Spats, and the sainted Obie's and Rotier's. Awesome bean rolls at Exit Inn. Cold and cheap beer at Jonesy's. And don't forget running the risk of cashing a bad check--you really didn't want to do that, if all the rumors were true--as Mrs. Mize's liquor store. How many of these places are left now in the Vandy area?
Places to hang out on campus: The Wall--the hangout/sunspot/mail reading, post-class place numero uno. If you were lucky, or maybe cursed (no pun intended), Sister Cindy and Brother Jed might wander by to save your souls and denounce your heathenish, co-ed-chasin', cigarette-smokin', alcohol-drinkin' ways, you Vandy [here, I'll self-censor their memorable descriptions of all of us accursed groveling lowlifes].
Who was the Vandy Knight for Homecoming Eve '81 (a/k/a " A Knight to Remember"?) Hint: he had eyebrows that would make a schnauzer jealous, but he was perhaps one of the most impressive persons that many of us still think we may ever meet, as a scholar, an administrator and leader, and as a person. Chancellor Heard was truly a Renaissance man.
Did you ever go into the steam tunnels? There is proof that these definitely did exist beneath those manhole covers, and in the days before Tom Cruise cut his chops, several of our classmates have their own "Mission Impossible" tales of derring-do and evasive maneuvers in escaping Campus Security (a/k/a Vandy's Finest) that would make a commando proud. (Caveat: Those midnight tunnelers had better be good: they certainly didn't want to get hauled before Vandy's Lord of Discipline, Dean K.C. Potter. Further caveat: Do not confuse the above mentioned Lord of Discipline with the Lords of Flatulence, a most excellent intramural sports-jock squad. To do so would be a most serious mistake. Another serious mistake would be to confuse the Lords of Flatulence with the Society of Creative Anachronism members who'd take to sword-dueling on Alumni Lawn occasionally...they were the ones in armor. The ones marching about sharply in the black or khaki uniforms with the white Good Humor Man hats would be the Navy ROTC midshipmen and midshipwomen--uh, midshippersonages. Confusing these two groups would be yet a fourth mistake. But, I digress....)
Remember where you were when President Reagan was shot? I was just walking into my dorm at the time, Tolman, right after a poli-sci class, and soon thereafter heard Al Haig utter those memorable words, "I'm in charge here!" Scary thing, that. That was a moment many of us will never forget.
Listening to the Davis Family (if memory serves correctly, that was their name) at The Bluegrass Inn? That was long before "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" and bluegrass became cool. For my money, nobody ever did "Fox on the Run" any better.
If bluegrass didn't float your boat, there were always the Vandy Concerts performances, or Sarratt Cinema, or plays or The Original Cast (they were usually staging a show each Parents' Weekend) ,or IMPACT, or the SGA Speaker Series. There were always parties. And, there was always a road trip to see "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." If you couldn't make it to Mardi Gras, you could always drink a Hurricane or Play-De-Do at Cajun's Wharf across the river. But, if you really wanted authentic performance art, there was the old Gerst Haus, with the guaranteed-meanest wait staff ever found south of Hell's Kitchen, or a 2 a.m. trip to Mary's BBQ in North Nashville where you'd be served out of a whitewashed cinderblock building that could easily have passed for a bunker at Checkpoint Charlie in East Berlin. Damn fine barbecue, though.
Learning early computer programming: in FORTRAN and COBOL on that gigantic old DEC 10 at the Computer Center (for some, just a convenient excuse to play early computer games).
Now, it's your turn, folks: yes, you can do this too. Just pour yourself your favorite beverage; turn on your lava lamp or your ancient eight-track player with Steve Miller, beach music, Bob Marley or Earth, Wind & Fire; think of Dr. Lach's philosophy class, a good day at Dudley Field, or a good nighttime walk around the Parthenon--whatever turns you on--and, free-associate to your heart's content!
Since my latest blog dealt with some fairly serious themes, let's shift gears. Are you up for a little free association about your years at Vanderbilt? If so, let's go....
Your freshman dorm: was it Vaughn; Lupton (I was on Lupton 2); anything in Kissam Quad?
Remember your first class freshman year? Mine was General Biology 101. I have mercifully forgotten the professor's name but I recall vividly that he walked in to the huge classroom in the Science Center, clasped his hands behind his back, looked up at the 100-odd of us, and intoned: "Class, this is a first. This will be the first time everyone is here and everyone is quiet"...and with that, he proceeded to begin a highly detailed lecture on the cell. We all scrambled for pens and notebooks as he looked at us over sardonically raised eyebrows. Oh, how I hated that class, and my grades showed it, too. We had great fun later in lab every week dissecting cats, frogs, and the biggest formaldehyde-laced worm I never hope to hang on my fishing line.
Your sophomore dorm: Barnard (a/k/a the Barnyard--yeah, that was my place); living in exile (or so it seemed to some) over on Peabody...or, were you one of the lucky souls who got a place off-campus? Mike Castellan's and Rick Cozby's place was strategically located virtually next door to Obie's Flying Tomato; they had a pet tarantula. (Rick and Mike, that is, not Obie's so far as I know. At least, I don't remember ever eating an large and hairy arachnid leg on one of their pizzas. Of course, I often had imbibed various mind-numbing substances before I began to eat eating said pizzas at 2 a.m.)
Off-campus places to hang out and eat (late night or early morning; hey, what's the diff?) Steak and Egg (good eats), Krystal (better eats), The Sub Station II (far superior), Mac's Country Cooking (OK, that had to be the apex of undergrad soul food); and, of course, TGI Friday's, Houston's, Spats, and the sainted Obie's and Rotier's. Awesome bean rolls at Exit Inn. Cold and cheap beer at Jonesy's. And don't forget running the risk of cashing a bad check--you really didn't want to do that, if all the rumors were true--as Mrs. Mize's liquor store. How many of these places are left now in the Vandy area?
Places to hang out on campus: The Wall--the hangout/sunspot/mail reading, post-class place numero uno. If you were lucky, or maybe cursed (no pun intended), Sister Cindy and Brother Jed might wander by to save your souls and denounce your heathenish, co-ed-chasin', cigarette-smokin', alcohol-drinkin' ways, you Vandy [here, I'll self-censor their memorable descriptions of all of us accursed groveling lowlifes].
Who was the Vandy Knight for Homecoming Eve '81 (a/k/a " A Knight to Remember"?) Hint: he had eyebrows that would make a schnauzer jealous, but he was perhaps one of the most impressive persons that many of us still think we may ever meet, as a scholar, an administrator and leader, and as a person. Chancellor Heard was truly a Renaissance man.
Did you ever go into the steam tunnels? There is proof that these definitely did exist beneath those manhole covers, and in the days before Tom Cruise cut his chops, several of our classmates have their own "Mission Impossible" tales of derring-do and evasive maneuvers in escaping Campus Security (a/k/a Vandy's Finest) that would make a commando proud. (Caveat: Those midnight tunnelers had better be good: they certainly didn't want to get hauled before Vandy's Lord of Discipline, Dean K.C. Potter. Further caveat: Do not confuse the above mentioned Lord of Discipline with the Lords of Flatulence, a most excellent intramural sports-jock squad. To do so would be a most serious mistake. Another serious mistake would be to confuse the Lords of Flatulence with the Society of Creative Anachronism members who'd take to sword-dueling on Alumni Lawn occasionally...they were the ones in armor. The ones marching about sharply in the black or khaki uniforms with the white Good Humor Man hats would be the Navy ROTC midshipmen and midshipwomen--uh, midshippersonages. Confusing these two groups would be yet a fourth mistake. But, I digress....)
Remember where you were when President Reagan was shot? I was just walking into my dorm at the time, Tolman, right after a poli-sci class, and soon thereafter heard Al Haig utter those memorable words, "I'm in charge here!" Scary thing, that. That was a moment many of us will never forget.
Listening to the Davis Family (if memory serves correctly, that was their name) at The Bluegrass Inn? That was long before "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" and bluegrass became cool. For my money, nobody ever did "Fox on the Run" any better.
If bluegrass didn't float your boat, there were always the Vandy Concerts performances, or Sarratt Cinema, or plays or The Original Cast (they were usually staging a show each Parents' Weekend) ,or IMPACT, or the SGA Speaker Series. There were always parties. And, there was always a road trip to see "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." If you couldn't make it to Mardi Gras, you could always drink a Hurricane or Play-De-Do at Cajun's Wharf across the river. But, if you really wanted authentic performance art, there was the old Gerst Haus, with the guaranteed-meanest wait staff ever found south of Hell's Kitchen, or a 2 a.m. trip to Mary's BBQ in North Nashville where you'd be served out of a whitewashed cinderblock building that could easily have passed for a bunker at Checkpoint Charlie in East Berlin. Damn fine barbecue, though.
Learning early computer programming: in FORTRAN and COBOL on that gigantic old DEC 10 at the Computer Center (for some, just a convenient excuse to play early computer games).
Now, it's your turn, folks: yes, you can do this too. Just pour yourself your favorite beverage; turn on your lava lamp or your ancient eight-track player with Steve Miller, beach music, Bob Marley or Earth, Wind & Fire; think of Dr. Lach's philosophy class, a good day at Dudley Field, or a good nighttime walk around the Parthenon--whatever turns you on--and, free-associate to your heart's content!
Memories and Memorial Days
This blog entry is not in the usual manner and style of our other postings for our Reunion. To do so is wholly purposeful on my part. I offer this up in a spirit of not forgetting the sacrifices of many persons--some older than us; some younger than us; and some exactly our age.
As some of you may know or recall, I ended up spending almost six years as an active duty Army officer after our graduation, courtesy of my time with Vandy Army ROTC. Others with whom I spent time in ROTC, however, have gone on to serve as professional officers; several of our classmates who were in the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marine Option ROTC programs remain on active duty or have recently retired. One of the ROTC instructors, Marine Major Emil Bedard, is now a general; his successor, Gary Anderson, is now well known as a frequent military commentator for PBS, NPR and CNN. One of our own classmates, Army Colonel Bill Hickman, has served in senior leadership roles in the 101st Airborne Division overseas on repeated tours of combat duty. We know, of course, that Bill is not alone in that respect.
Memorial Day will be here very soon. It now holds a special meaning for many Americans as being a day for more than barbecues, sports and for welcoming summer. Regrettably, the meaning it holds for many Americans is now quite personally imbued with the deepest of emotions: of sadness, of regret, of loss of a loved one or family member. My father, a Marine veteran of World War II, died just days after Memorial Day ten years ago. That holiday will no longer pass without my missing him and wondering about what kinds of private hells he and his buddies encountered on Pacific battlefields over sixty years ago.
Other families' memories of loss and pain are sharper and even more poignant. I share with you below an e-mail I received last night from a former law firm colleague of mine who is in age a contemporary of ours, and who is a National Guard JAG lawyer now stationed in Tikrit, Iraq. Obviously, each of you shall draw your own message, political observations and conclusions from this post. I ask, however, that as you read it, please take a moment to think of those who have died (as well as those permanently scarred by the wounds of war, I would suggest), and their families and loved ones who have lost them, as we proceed this month towards Memorial Day 2008.
A quick and somber note. Last night our redeployment focus was tempered by the death of a civilian contractor living in the next compound. He died after an IED exploded under his vehicle. Approximately 200 people attended a late evening ceremony to load his remains for the flight home.
The send off, known as a "ramp ceremony", was conducted with a too well-practiced efficiency and quiet military heraldry. An ambulance delivered the casket, draped in an American flag, to the runway. The attendees formed two rows facing each other creating a path between the ambulance and the plane's cargo hatch. An eight-man detail removed the casket from the ambulance and carried it through the formation at a halfstep march. We held an honorary salute until the detail placed the body in the plane's cargo area and were dismissed.
We arrived at the airfield at 10:15 pm, but the ceremony did not start until 11 pm. The evening was comfortable, starlit and the drone of Blackhawk and Apache helicopters taking off and landing for their nightly missions interfered with most conversation. The ceremony lasted 10 minutes. Most were quiet afterwards, and those who knew the dead man (I did not) were caught up in various stages of emotion.
My thoughts ranged dramatically. The man woke up that morning, ate breakfast in the mess hall and left for a mission with expectation to return to [Camp] Speicher for dinner. His plans were interrupted by the war.He instead died, and 12 hours later his body was going home in a casket. I learned he was my exact age - a sobering thought to my self-perceived immortality. I also wondered about the soldiers traveling with the body. None of them awoke yesterday expecting to fly with a flag-draped casket visible from every seat in the plane. The event is a solemn reminder of the violence and tragedy this conflict continues to inflict.
I called Claudine immediately upon returning to our compound to hear her voice and speak with the children. The conversation pacified my mood,and I enjoyed Aidan's prattle more than any conversation with him in my memory bank. Most of all - last night reaffirmed that I am ready to come home.
As some of you may know or recall, I ended up spending almost six years as an active duty Army officer after our graduation, courtesy of my time with Vandy Army ROTC. Others with whom I spent time in ROTC, however, have gone on to serve as professional officers; several of our classmates who were in the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marine Option ROTC programs remain on active duty or have recently retired. One of the ROTC instructors, Marine Major Emil Bedard, is now a general; his successor, Gary Anderson, is now well known as a frequent military commentator for PBS, NPR and CNN. One of our own classmates, Army Colonel Bill Hickman, has served in senior leadership roles in the 101st Airborne Division overseas on repeated tours of combat duty. We know, of course, that Bill is not alone in that respect.
Memorial Day will be here very soon. It now holds a special meaning for many Americans as being a day for more than barbecues, sports and for welcoming summer. Regrettably, the meaning it holds for many Americans is now quite personally imbued with the deepest of emotions: of sadness, of regret, of loss of a loved one or family member. My father, a Marine veteran of World War II, died just days after Memorial Day ten years ago. That holiday will no longer pass without my missing him and wondering about what kinds of private hells he and his buddies encountered on Pacific battlefields over sixty years ago.
Other families' memories of loss and pain are sharper and even more poignant. I share with you below an e-mail I received last night from a former law firm colleague of mine who is in age a contemporary of ours, and who is a National Guard JAG lawyer now stationed in Tikrit, Iraq. Obviously, each of you shall draw your own message, political observations and conclusions from this post. I ask, however, that as you read it, please take a moment to think of those who have died (as well as those permanently scarred by the wounds of war, I would suggest), and their families and loved ones who have lost them, as we proceed this month towards Memorial Day 2008.
A quick and somber note. Last night our redeployment focus was tempered by the death of a civilian contractor living in the next compound. He died after an IED exploded under his vehicle. Approximately 200 people attended a late evening ceremony to load his remains for the flight home.
The send off, known as a "ramp ceremony", was conducted with a too well-practiced efficiency and quiet military heraldry. An ambulance delivered the casket, draped in an American flag, to the runway. The attendees formed two rows facing each other creating a path between the ambulance and the plane's cargo hatch. An eight-man detail removed the casket from the ambulance and carried it through the formation at a halfstep march. We held an honorary salute until the detail placed the body in the plane's cargo area and were dismissed.
We arrived at the airfield at 10:15 pm, but the ceremony did not start until 11 pm. The evening was comfortable, starlit and the drone of Blackhawk and Apache helicopters taking off and landing for their nightly missions interfered with most conversation. The ceremony lasted 10 minutes. Most were quiet afterwards, and those who knew the dead man (I did not) were caught up in various stages of emotion.
My thoughts ranged dramatically. The man woke up that morning, ate breakfast in the mess hall and left for a mission with expectation to return to [Camp] Speicher for dinner. His plans were interrupted by the war.He instead died, and 12 hours later his body was going home in a casket. I learned he was my exact age - a sobering thought to my self-perceived immortality. I also wondered about the soldiers traveling with the body. None of them awoke yesterday expecting to fly with a flag-draped casket visible from every seat in the plane. The event is a solemn reminder of the violence and tragedy this conflict continues to inflict.
I called Claudine immediately upon returning to our compound to hear her voice and speak with the children. The conversation pacified my mood,and I enjoyed Aidan's prattle more than any conversation with him in my memory bank. Most of all - last night reaffirmed that I am ready to come home.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Of the Class of '83, 25th Reunions, dreams and memories, and TMI
Do you ever have dreams about Vanderbilt? I'll admit that I do: it's a recurring dream, one that I have had at least once a year for the last seven or eight years. In it, I'm running down the staircase of Rand by the Bookstore, trying to find my old P.O. box in Station B. Classes have let out, and I'm negotiating my way through other students to get to my box. The dream always ends before I get to find it and open it. Sounds like I have some unfinished business: maybe I need to get to Reunion to find my old mailbox?
After the last blog posted and my riposte to my old buddy Frank, I swore to myself to avoid the menace of TMI...you know, "too much information." It seems like we're all surrounded by TMI in this day of instant celebrity, immediate gratification, and new fixes for old problems. To my thinking, good "scoop" is best saved for conversations, lunch/dinner/drinks, etc. with friends, with whom you can share a good laugh (and so that you have the added pleasure of seeing the shocked looks on their faces when you confound them with the news at hand). Thanks for sharing, Frank! You've given a few of us some mental sight pictures that must be shaken at all costs.
Thinking of friends and acquaintances gets me back to the subject at hand: Reunion. Like many of you, I'm hoping to be able to get to the Reunion this fall. I made it back to several (our 5th, 10th and 20th) and frankly, I had a better time than I had expected I would at each of them.
What's the lure of the Reunion for those of us who keep in touch with our classmates sporadically at best? It's partly the lure of a good party and camaraderie with folks whom we used to share dorm rooms, bad food (come on: who among us would willingly admit to enjoying Branscomb and Rand dining room fare back then? The "Mr. 4x4" sandwich, with its rainbow-hued slab of roast beef, made Army mess hall food seem like a delicacy by comparison), new adventures in academia and sports, all the highs and lows of college life--the highs were high (for some of us, more high than others), yet the lows seemed less so with good friends in our lives. To all appearances, Vanderbilt has changed significantly in many respects. There's always the hope that the 'Dores will actually win one at Homecoming. There's also always the hope that the person for who you used to have a huge crush may show up, and you can finally talk without being shy about it anymore. (If I'm speaking about myself here, sorry, I'm not 'fessing up who the girl is. Besides, I'm a married man.)
Maybe for some of us, however, the simplest explanation is a touch of nostalgia for things passed brings us back home to Vandy once every five years. If life has been for you as it has been for me, my four years at Vandy were the last utterly carefree days I have experienced in my life, pending retirement or the onset of unexpected wealth. The ability to hang out with friends; drink brews at the Overcup Oak or sangria in the Carmichael Towers' basement; hang out on The Wall or listen to some of the very dramatic and never-boring speakers who'd visit it; hear great thinkers talk at IMPACT or at a SGA Speakers Committee presentation; and just to think about some seemingly important thought and have the time to follow it through to its logical (or less than logical, if beer-sodden) completion with professors or buddies....Perhaps George Bernard Shaw was right: maybe, youth is wasted on the young.
But, folks, we are still young--I, for one, cannot completely accept I'm middle-aged--and, whether with or without recourse to blue pills, waxing or other dipilatory treatments, Hair Club for Men (or Women) and radical weight-loss treatments or other cosmetic surgery/Botox/collagen/enhancements--enough of that list, back to my self-imposed injunction against TMI at the start of this blog--here's hoping as many of us who can get to see one another at the Reunion this fall. After all, 25 years from now, we'll be...well, let's just not go there for now, OK? Best wishes to you all. -- Nick
After the last blog posted and my riposte to my old buddy Frank, I swore to myself to avoid the menace of TMI...you know, "too much information." It seems like we're all surrounded by TMI in this day of instant celebrity, immediate gratification, and new fixes for old problems. To my thinking, good "scoop" is best saved for conversations, lunch/dinner/drinks, etc. with friends, with whom you can share a good laugh (and so that you have the added pleasure of seeing the shocked looks on their faces when you confound them with the news at hand). Thanks for sharing, Frank! You've given a few of us some mental sight pictures that must be shaken at all costs.
Thinking of friends and acquaintances gets me back to the subject at hand: Reunion. Like many of you, I'm hoping to be able to get to the Reunion this fall. I made it back to several (our 5th, 10th and 20th) and frankly, I had a better time than I had expected I would at each of them.
What's the lure of the Reunion for those of us who keep in touch with our classmates sporadically at best? It's partly the lure of a good party and camaraderie with folks whom we used to share dorm rooms, bad food (come on: who among us would willingly admit to enjoying Branscomb and Rand dining room fare back then? The "Mr. 4x4" sandwich, with its rainbow-hued slab of roast beef, made Army mess hall food seem like a delicacy by comparison), new adventures in academia and sports, all the highs and lows of college life--the highs were high (for some of us, more high than others), yet the lows seemed less so with good friends in our lives. To all appearances, Vanderbilt has changed significantly in many respects. There's always the hope that the 'Dores will actually win one at Homecoming. There's also always the hope that the person for who you used to have a huge crush may show up, and you can finally talk without being shy about it anymore. (If I'm speaking about myself here, sorry, I'm not 'fessing up who the girl is. Besides, I'm a married man.)
Maybe for some of us, however, the simplest explanation is a touch of nostalgia for things passed brings us back home to Vandy once every five years. If life has been for you as it has been for me, my four years at Vandy were the last utterly carefree days I have experienced in my life, pending retirement or the onset of unexpected wealth. The ability to hang out with friends; drink brews at the Overcup Oak or sangria in the Carmichael Towers' basement; hang out on The Wall or listen to some of the very dramatic and never-boring speakers who'd visit it; hear great thinkers talk at IMPACT or at a SGA Speakers Committee presentation; and just to think about some seemingly important thought and have the time to follow it through to its logical (or less than logical, if beer-sodden) completion with professors or buddies....Perhaps George Bernard Shaw was right: maybe, youth is wasted on the young.
But, folks, we are still young--I, for one, cannot completely accept I'm middle-aged--and, whether with or without recourse to blue pills, waxing or other dipilatory treatments, Hair Club for Men (or Women) and radical weight-loss treatments or other cosmetic surgery/Botox/collagen/enhancements--enough of that list, back to my self-imposed injunction against TMI at the start of this blog--here's hoping as many of us who can get to see one another at the Reunion this fall. After all, 25 years from now, we'll be...well, let's just not go there for now, OK? Best wishes to you all. -- Nick
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Vandy Blogging, Viagra and Back Hair
Wow. I am actually blogging. This is like listening in on other people’s conversations. I feel like I am part spy and part creepy stalker. The other exciting thing about blogging is that it is sort of like getting e-mail from real people. Most of the e-mail I get is from institutions highlighting how truly unsuccessful I am. I get notices on how to re-finance my mortgage, how to re-grow my hair, or that I need viagra. This, of course, leads to ethical dilemmas: do I take half of a tablet so I won’t tinkle on my new loafers or do I take a whole pill and risk having a four hour erection. What to do? I wouldn’t call a doctor but I might call my friends and brag.
I am so excited about the reunion that I am going to have my back waxed. (Gross!!! The stuff about the erection was iffy, but that back hair reference went way over the line…Do you now see why nobody e-mails?) I am even going to blow off my dungeons and dragons club that weekend. You might think that is a small sacrifice but I was going to get to be the dungeon master that week. I will bring some 20 sided dice if you guys really want to get wild.
That is a great picture of the reunion committee on the website. Ralph, I always knew the ladies considered you to be eye candy (aren’t all the fellas from Clarksville?), but have you gotten taller... or were you standing on a box? I have even more reasons to look up to you. OK, OK, I have height issues. I got to be an extra in the fireworks scene in The Shire in the Lord of the Rings. I had to shave my feet though. I was angry that they didn't shave my back. (Gross, again...that's two inappropriate back hair references).
Ralph, Stuart, Julie and Martha, I really appreciate all that you are doing to bring us together. You have always been selfless servant leaders. Thank you for everything.
Peace Be With You,
Frank V. Cooper
I am so excited about the reunion that I am going to have my back waxed. (Gross!!! The stuff about the erection was iffy, but that back hair reference went way over the line…Do you now see why nobody e-mails?) I am even going to blow off my dungeons and dragons club that weekend. You might think that is a small sacrifice but I was going to get to be the dungeon master that week. I will bring some 20 sided dice if you guys really want to get wild.
That is a great picture of the reunion committee on the website. Ralph, I always knew the ladies considered you to be eye candy (aren’t all the fellas from Clarksville?), but have you gotten taller... or were you standing on a box? I have even more reasons to look up to you. OK, OK, I have height issues. I got to be an extra in the fireworks scene in The Shire in the Lord of the Rings. I had to shave my feet though. I was angry that they didn't shave my back. (Gross, again...that's two inappropriate back hair references).
Ralph, Stuart, Julie and Martha, I really appreciate all that you are doing to bring us together. You have always been selfless servant leaders. Thank you for everything.
Peace Be With You,
Frank V. Cooper
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Like many of you, I cannot believe it's been 25 years. Just seems like yesterday I was in Leeds, England, participating in the Vanderbilt-in-England Exchange Program, or attending Wesley Fellowship meetings, or cheering on the VU football team on a rainy Saturday after Thanksgiving, when we defeated UT. What a great four years it was. I look forward to reunion in October, and, as co-chair--along with Julie Sommers Neuman--of the Fundraising Committee, I hope members of our class will take a few minutes to make a contribution to support the efforts of our alma mater. Let's do all we can to make the VU experience as special for future generations of students as it was for us!
Stuart Gulley
Stuart Gulley
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
No WAY it's been 25 years!
Just looking through the posts that you guys have put up already reminds me that:
- It really will be a blast to see you guys again -- this will be my first reunion!
- We really ARE getting old. Rick's and my daughter, who's a freshman at Georgia Tech, says something nearly every time we talk to her that reminds me of the wonder, confusion and just plain fun of being a VU student. What a fantastic, unique time in our lives!
- But we're not so old that we can't learn new tricks! Look at us, blogging away. How did we ever survive college without the Internet, let alone Facebook??!!
Looking forward to catching up with -- yes, Martha Ray's right -- "old" friends and meeting new ones.
Betsy
Monday, March 24, 2008
Homecoming
Hi Class of 83. WE have a good group planning on Reunion 2008. I am bringing my father(Med 1953) hopefully for one last visit to Vanderbilt. Pray that he can make the trip. Pray also that he can keep up with the KE's. Life is good in east Texas. Laura and I have great memories from Vanderbilt. Too bad it is so hard to get into now. Our kids will likely stay in Texas. Will keep in touch, and look forward to seeing many old friends.
Randy
Randy
jumping in the pool
Greetings to all fellow members of 1983. I gave myself a furtive blogname and of course will choose a great time for a "grand reveal". All is well on this end. Married a lovely lady from Houston ( that I was lucky enough to meet in La Jolla ) , went to grad school at Rice and stayed here. Have one great son - age 11. will stay in touch and post regularly. Hope to see you in October.
Remember all of the great things-
Cheeseburgers on french bread at Rotier's
Pitchers at Joensey's
happy hours at Spat's
late , late nights at Faison's
Thursday nights anywhere
comeradery of your freshman hall
very difficult freshman chemistry class - a 44 usually was a "B" on a test
rites of spring = a lot of fun
take care rh
Remember all of the great things-
Cheeseburgers on french bread at Rotier's
Pitchers at Joensey's
happy hours at Spat's
late , late nights at Faison's
Thursday nights anywhere
comeradery of your freshman hall
very difficult freshman chemistry class - a 44 usually was a "B" on a test
rites of spring = a lot of fun
take care rh
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Martha Woolbright Ray
Okay, I'll say it first -- 25 years?? How old are we anyway? This is going to be a huge and FUN reunion, and it will only be made more fun if everyone comes. Please don't think that you won't know anyone -- our past reunions at Vanderbilt have been so surprising -- you reconnect with people you haven't seen in ages, and you meet some wonderful new people that you never knew when you were in college. So you really do make some new friends while seeing the old ones (but, I guess it being our 25th reunion proves we're all really "old" friends after all -- ha). The reunion committee has already been hard at work, and it really promises to be a fun weekend (and you get to see Vandy play Duke, too). And y'all, think about it -- we'll never be younger.
I, for one, am hoping everyone makes a big effort to be there -- I can't wait.
Martha Woolbright Ray
I, for one, am hoping everyone makes a big effort to be there -- I can't wait.
Martha Woolbright Ray
Want to Post and not just leave comments?
If you want to post, the more the merrier. Just email me at lalsentzer@comcast.net and I'll add you as an official blogger so you can do more than just add comments.
Welcome to our Blog
Hello Class of '83. I'm sitting here on the last day of Spring Break in a condo on the beach outside of Tampa, trying to cheer myself up after witnessing the disappointing loss of our Vanderbilt men's basketball team to Siena. The week started out in Atlanta, where our hotel was hit by the tornado. We witnessed room shingles and debris flying by our 15th story hotel room next door to the Equitable building before evacuating to the stairwell to the sounds of breaking glass and rattling doors. Our room was fine, but the rooms all around had the windows broken out, and our next door neighbor received cuts to his face. We were ecstatic to find that the first round of the NCAA was in Tampa, so we drove down Monday to wait on the beach until the team arrived. Guess we'll be routing for the women's team and baseball now.
It has been a long time since graduation. I have many fond memories of Vandy - John (my husband) and I met the third day of school our freshman year at Barefoot in Branscomb, and we married 2 weeks after graduation. All of our (cheap) dates were football and basketball games, so after a 7 year stint in Philadelphia for medical school and residency, we were happy to return to Nashville where we could cheer our team on in person. Our oldest son, Andy, is now a junior at Vandy and will attend medical school there upon graduation.
Ralph Davis, our reunion chair, Martha Woolbright Ray, our attendance chair, and I (party chair) met in February with all of the other class chairmen planning their reunions. We got to hear from then interim, now Chancellor Zeppos, and I think you will all be pleased with Gordon Gee's replacement. He has a great sense of humor (when asked if Vandy was trying to get rid of Greeks with the Commons, he replied, "Well, first of all, I'm Greek"), and hehas been at Vanderbilt for quite a long time. Please go the the class page link and go to Dores2Dores to get your friends' email addresses and encourage them to come to reunion (and to blog). I think the biggest thing that keeps people from coming is that they are afraid they will go to the reunion and will not recognize anyone! Reunion is paired with a home football weekend, and instead of scheduling a team that will beat us, they actually scheduled us to play Duke (so don't wear blue). The class party should be fun, not stuffy. We will have stand up tables and tons of food, so don't worry that you will be stuck at a dinner sitting by someone that you don't know as we want everyone to be able to move around and visit. We will also have a DJ instead of a loud band, as some classes have complained about the music being so loud in the past that they couldn't talk. The band will be at the combined party after the class parties. I will post a blog for you to list songs that you want to be played at our party. We chose not to have a cheesy theme like disco or mardi gras, but to go with the simple "Black and Gold" as that is what everyone is coming for. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to let us know! Laurie Alsentzer lalsentzer@comcast.net
It has been a long time since graduation. I have many fond memories of Vandy - John (my husband) and I met the third day of school our freshman year at Barefoot in Branscomb, and we married 2 weeks after graduation. All of our (cheap) dates were football and basketball games, so after a 7 year stint in Philadelphia for medical school and residency, we were happy to return to Nashville where we could cheer our team on in person. Our oldest son, Andy, is now a junior at Vandy and will attend medical school there upon graduation.
Ralph Davis, our reunion chair, Martha Woolbright Ray, our attendance chair, and I (party chair) met in February with all of the other class chairmen planning their reunions. We got to hear from then interim, now Chancellor Zeppos, and I think you will all be pleased with Gordon Gee's replacement. He has a great sense of humor (when asked if Vandy was trying to get rid of Greeks with the Commons, he replied, "Well, first of all, I'm Greek"), and hehas been at Vanderbilt for quite a long time. Please go the the class page link and go to Dores2Dores to get your friends' email addresses and encourage them to come to reunion (and to blog). I think the biggest thing that keeps people from coming is that they are afraid they will go to the reunion and will not recognize anyone! Reunion is paired with a home football weekend, and instead of scheduling a team that will beat us, they actually scheduled us to play Duke (so don't wear blue). The class party should be fun, not stuffy. We will have stand up tables and tons of food, so don't worry that you will be stuck at a dinner sitting by someone that you don't know as we want everyone to be able to move around and visit. We will also have a DJ instead of a loud band, as some classes have complained about the music being so loud in the past that they couldn't talk. The band will be at the combined party after the class parties. I will post a blog for you to list songs that you want to be played at our party. We chose not to have a cheesy theme like disco or mardi gras, but to go with the simple "Black and Gold" as that is what everyone is coming for. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to let us know! Laurie Alsentzer lalsentzer@comcast.net
Remember When
Our freshmen year we saw the Vanderbilt and Peaody College for teacher merge July 1, 1979, Ted Kennedy speak at Imapct, the students coming together to save Old Science Hall, KA's "Old Soouth " days bring ctroversy to campus, the building of the new Vanderbilt Hospital, Blair school of Music, a new outdoor track, and Dudley field renovations; concerts by the Allman Brothers, carla Bonhoff, Ray Charles, Dixie Dregss, and the Nashville Jazz Machine. Our sophomore year we saw the merger with Blair School, Owen ground breaking, basketball suspensions, $50K of long distance charged to VU by students with the new northern Telecom phone system; football players moved from Carmichael East to the Holiday Inn when the air conditioning went out, visits by President Carter, Eudora Welty, Hugh Kenner, Wendall Berry, Vincent Price, George Bush, and Eugene McCarthy, the reelection of Reagan, Time Magazine devoting its "Americana"section to Vanderbilt, the Agrarians, and the symposium, the Homecoming PIg Chase on Alumni Lawn, concerts by Dizzy Gillespie, Elvis Costello, Eddie Money, and the Nashville Symphony, a $10 million renovation of Dudley Field, and a move into the new hosptial in a single weekend. Our Junior year saw McTyeire become an International House for American and International students, the revelation that Vandy students paid 25% to 33% more than wholesale for textbooks, Professor Elizabeth Langland's last year due to denied tenure and the ensuing lawsuit charging VU with sexual discrimination, many undergrads tuned into General Hospital,Sandra Day O'Connor becoming the first woman on the U.S. Supreme Court, the first black alumni reunion with 100 returning alums, the retirement of Chancellor Heard and appointment of Chancellor Wyatt, a letter bomb in the Computer Science department, undergrads wearing Izod, Tretorns, and Ralph Lauren, visits by Ralph Nader and Gary Hart, and concerts by Emmy Lou Harris and U2. Our Senior Year saw beautification projects at Kirland, Old Science, and Old Central, women on the second floor of McGill Dorm, VANDERBILT FOOTBALL BEATING TENNESSEE AND A WINNING FOOTBALL SEASON, the opening of the Arts Dorm and Confederate Hall, Concerts by the Talking Heads, Return to Forever, and REM, camping out at Alumni Hall to sign up for campus interviews, and speakers Coretta Scott King, John Cappalletti, F. Lee Bailey, and Charlton Heston. (Thanks to the alumni office for going through the yearbook and getting this list together!)
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