Class Note 1981
Our 30th reunion started early for me—the Monday before. Dartmouth student Stephanie Pignatiello, daughter of Steve Pignatiello, e-mailed me the weekend before reunion to see if I had time for lunch. She was in Washington, D.C., doing an internship and—small world—she was with her boyfriend, a Dartmouth student I had interviewed when he applied as a high school senior. We ate pizza, talked about cooking meals in fraternities and professed our love for Dartmouth. I had a great grin on my face as those two walked away. Reunion week had got off to a great start.
And then Wednesday Julie Koeninger posted on Facebook a pic of the reunion team, already in Hanover: Julie, Robert Goldbloom, Barney Oldfield, Pat Berry and Nancy Baskin. Our classmates piled on, Facebook-style: John Sconzo commented, “See you later today!” and Larry Dunn worried when he wrote, “Save some beers for the rest of us.” Since our 25th many classmates have connected with others via Facebook, and what we see posted there allowed us quick entries into conversations with classmates. When we saw each other at Friday’s lunch, Susan Spencer and I dove right in to the college tour that she’d just finished with her daughter and had posted about on Facebook.
And as we all know, those conversations are the weekend’s highlights. Dirk Olin, Greg Hale and I debated the best FM radio stations across the United States—where “DJs program the music,” as Dirk said, not computers or management. Maine denizen Helen Hemminger told me of her baseball-playing son Daniel and Scott Bucey and his wife Jennifer filled me in on what to see when I’m in San Francisco next. Dave Focardi drove across the United States with his whitewater kayak, and I look forward to going on one of the river-rafting trips that he guides.
At our 25th our boy played soccer with classmates and their kids; this time it was Frisbee, as Charlie got gentle coaching from Patrick Haid, son of Hallidie Grant Haid. He and Hallidie were heading back to Seattle early Sunday so that Patrick could try out for an elite Ultimate team. But there was soccer on Saturday. Chris Morrison played with bunch of young alums on Whitey Burnham Field, and while he did not admit it, I bet our classmate gave ’em a run for their money. Spot’s in Indianapolis, Indiana, teaching and daughter Olivia is a true tomboy, he said.
The oldest son of Marty Cetron accompanied his father Saturday evening, and I remarked to Marty that I hope our boy grows up to be as mature and thoughtful as his. Doug Schwarz and I talked about his two kids: high school junior Julia is off to France this summer and Marcus just finished his sophomore year at Yale. I remember at our 15th reunion Marcus and I went to look for cookies during our meal at the Bema. As we waded into the crowd, his hand instinctually went for mine, and there is that picture, forever in my mind, Marcus and me hand in hand, talking about cookies, wandering through all of you on the Bema.
It was good to hold your hands this weekend, my classmates, to see you and hear of your lives, your kids, your work, your remarkableness. Big thanks to Nancy and her reunion committee for putting on this grand gathering. There are other stories to tell, but I have run out of room in this, my last column. Thankfully I shift over to the class’s newsletter and will continue there; Robert Goldbloom and Brian Cusack take over here. I feel very lucky that I can continue writing about you, the great class of 1981.
—Abner Oakes, 4807 Dover Road, Bethesda, MD 20816-1772; aoakes4@gmail.com; Julie Koeninger, 2 Wilson St., Wellesley, MA 02482; jkoeninger@comcast.net
