For this issue I asked if there was an old guy who guided you in the decade or so after graduation. Bruce Pacht recalls 1970: “Ralph Galpin, an old coot who would come over to our hippie cabin quite attracted to the women, taught me about splitting various species of wood, saving me much time and effort, in addition to our splitting maul and axes.” Sam Ostrow learned from Dick Goodwin, a JFK speechwriter, who “totally rejected, word by word, the first speech I wrote under his direction for our candidate. He explained every deletion to me and provided me with two rules: Write to a single, simple idea and give it cadence.” Warren Cook says hockey coach Eddie Jeremiah “was like a father to me and I went to Dartmouth because of him. He taught me to look up and keep fighting.” For Nesanel Kasnett it was “Rabbi Noah Weinberg, who—through word and example—ushered me into the Orthodox Jewish community.” Mike Wolff remembers learning “not to be intimidated by the rich and powerful” while clerking for a federal judge who took him to lunch at a private club, where federal judges sat in a dining room filled with businessmen, and said, “Look around this room, boys. There’s more crime going on right here than there is in north Minneapolis.” Chris Smith says, “I listened to many people but not always well and didn’t take most older folks seriously until later in life. I certainly have authors and thinkers living and dead who are like mentors to me now, but I wonder if I will regret omitting the name of an old guy who had tossed me a lifeline.” Al Hine recalls how, “As a kid I got to know James ‘Jay’ Ely Harding, a grandfather figure who in the 1920s was an exploration geologist traveling on horseback in remote areas of South America looking for copper deposits, requiring him to be well-armed. He steered me toward the geosciences at Dartmouth and later to my academic research career.” You can read all the full submissions at 1967.dartmouth.org.

—Larry Langford, P.O. Box 71, Buckland, MA 01339; 1967damnotes@gmail.com