Struggle city: Sometimes when I wander down the front stairs and open the mailbox, I discover cobwebs and a distinct lack of mail. Alas, so, too, the email. As I reflect on whom to contact, I remember my first few days at Dartmouth in the fall of 1971. Yes, 50 years ago. I joined a freshman trip along a portion of the Presidential Ridge. We descended to the Mount Moosilauke Lodge, where someone yelled in my direction, “Hey, preppy!” Harry Reynolds, too, was a product of a New England boarding school and clearly knew what I was by mere appearance. Harry and I went on to enjoy an undergraduate friendship after that chance sighting.

Two of my fellow boarding school classmates, Steve Gaige and Jake McFadden, also were in our Dartmouth class. When I began to settle into Middle Fayerweather dorm I got to know my freshman floormates well. It was a true rogues gallery, consisting of Lon Cross, Steve Harper, Ken McKenna, Ted Stone, Bill Macey, Mark Sheehan, Dale Edmunds, Bill Meili,and my roommate, Pete Castle. Unfortunately, not all these gentlemen are still with us, but those who are seem to be going strong. Did I forget somebody from the first floor?

Throughout my Dartmouth experience I dated the same woman, my now spouse of 46 years, Eliza. I guess this is why I did not mingle with too many of our female classmates. Happily, I have enjoyed contact with many since, including Robbin Derry, Pamela Brewer Smyth, Gretchen Teichgraeber,and Laurie Keeshan Sullivan.

Another strong memory is those cards that dangled from our shirts by a string for football games. I remember “Impale Yale” and “CYRO is Zero,” There were others, of course, but for some reason these stood out. Thank goodness that the committee on year-round operations survived as well as coeducation; Dartmouth is a far better place as a result.

I also remember when I was the president of my fraternity Al Markman and I had some dispute between our respective organizations. I think there was a broken pool cue or spilled beer involved. As we attempted to handle it as adults, Al informed me that there would be “retribution.” I think he meant recompense, as I never suffered any bodily harm.

I can still see myself playing pool in the basement with a tall drink of water named Jon White. I don’t remember winning.

One very strong memory was driving across the Green at night with Jeff Sassorossi. Ah, maybe it was dream, I still have my diploma. Speaking of crossing the Green, I was on the way to an accounting course test with Rob Karin, who was a far more committed student than I. I was a bit behind in my studies and asked him, “What do you think will be the main question on the test?” He made a very accurate suggestion, for which I thank him.

Okay, now it is your turn.

Vox clamantis in Tejas.

—Stephen D. Gray, 3627 Avenue M, Galveston, TX 77550; (650) 302-8739; fratergray@gmail.com