Another season has come and gone and with it, the days are shorter and nights are cooler. And hope springs eternal in this crazy, complex world we live in.


From the mailbag comes news from Paul Parsons, who clearly is eligible for the most talented, multi-discipline, classmate. I have copied his e-mail without edit, because its full depth stands on its own. We talk about Renaissance men, but here’s the real deal: “My orthopedic practice was bought out by Vanderbilt University. I’m still practicing, but now working for ‘the man.’ No longer taking calls, so have some free time. Published my second novel, Baden-Powell’s Beads: London, earlier this year. The third installment is in editing. Had my first song, ‘Yes Dear,’ released on a CD, Moon over Brooklyn, in N.Y.C. this summer. Artist is Ernie Barry, well known in the city. I’m doing a live performance of the song as an opening for Tim McGraw at a private benefit this summer. Handicap is 7.2. My wife, Sue, and I are healthy and enjoying life in Tennessee and Arizona.” So, I repeat, what could we possibly add to that except well done.


The only other news from classmates is my own. In late June my mom, Joan Bildner ’47 spouse, ’75 parent, ’08 grandparent, died suddenly. She was 82 and lived a remarkable life with my dad, Allen Bildner ’47, Tu’48. They shared 64 years of marriage together, much of the early years at Dartmouth. At my mom’s memorial service, packed with many of their Dartmouth friends both young and old, we told the story of how my 15-year-old mother (we think she was 14, but for obvious reasons, she preferred us to think she was 15) spent a few cold hours one late February night in 1945 on the fire escape of Casque & Gauntlet outside my dad’s room. You see, in those days, the campus police did a routine check nightly to ensure the “boys” were behaving themselves. Needless to say, in 1945, a female “visitor” after 9 p.m. would have been a cause of some concern. As the story goes, my dad greeted Officer “Dusty” with a beer and cigar and entertained him for an hour or so with stories until Dusty decided all was well and it was time for his other duties that night. As Dusty left C&G, my dad quickly helped my then-shivering, future mom climb back through his window to get warm by the fireplace. Many of you might be wondering who would send their 15-year-old daughter to Winter Carnival weekend at Dartmouth, but things were so much simpler in those days. For my mom and dad, the rest was history. We can all only hope that we can live that kind of life.


Well, thanks for indulging me in this column. Don’t waste even a minute in your life. It all matters—at least that’s what someone I loved very much recently told me—and she would know, she never wasted a second. 


—Jim Bildner, 5 Boardman Ave., Manchester, MA 01944; (617) 495-6513; jim_bildner@harvard.edu