Class Note 1979
Issue
May-June 2026
Class Note 1979. How do you describe the end of our first year at Dartmouth?
My memories are of great teachers, great friends, great evenings at The Bull’s Eye, and tea at the Hanover Inn, where I spilled Earl Grey on a borrowed Laura Ashley dress.
Yet my best pals, while always being grateful to the College, nevertheless felt dispossessed in some way.
Too urban, too shy, too unathletic, too ethnic, too outrageous, too bookish to be accommodated by what we saw as the “real Dartmouth,” we formed our own Dartmouth. We went to The Four Aces diner and ate gloriously bad-for-you food. We went to the Riverside grill and sang “A Good-Hearted Woman (In Love with a Good Timing Man)” when Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings hit the jukebox.
We schlepped endlessly around Occom Pond talking about what we’d do in 10, 15, 25 years. Opposing the law of Occam’s razor, we made far more assumptions than necessary and avoided direct routes. (I recently reminded John Bussey about an icy walk where he slipped and went knee-high into nearly frozen water.)
Arguing with each other and lambasting the system even as we found comfort and support in what we made for ourselves, I wouldn’t have imagined that 50 years in the future I’d be discussing shared and personal experiences with people who were on campus the same years but whom I wouldn’t meet until the next century.
In assembling the Class Notes, I’ve witnessed the formation of new communities of ’79 cronies (a term truly applying to us, deriving from the ancient Greek chronios, or “long-lasting,” based on “chronos” or “time”—so I hear).
Conversations with others who were in Hanover in 1976 are now often bravely honest, surprisingly fun, and genuinely hilarious. It’s not about bluffing anymore.
Tom Ewing made a great point in a recent exchange: “Recent grads often refer to their Class Notes as ‘mergers and acquisitions announcements.’ This can be intimidating for some people who aren’t shaking the world.” What Tom also pointed out is that “people keep coming back once they’ve been to one reunion or returning after a long absence.”
Tom hadn’t been to a reunion “until our 20th, but once I did, I saw that class of 1979 reunions are for everyone and got involved.”
As Margo Squire said, it’s also about seeing how others find their inspiration: “For some it is ziplining or rock climbing (yikes), for others, Habitat for Humanity. For me it’s interacting with others over art.”
In what Diana Lawrence (known to many as “Bug”) wonderfully calls “the spirit of kinship,” she and Mitch Lavign want to hear about a classmate with something to celebrate or one who is facing a particular challenge. They’ll then write a personal letter on behalf of the class of ’79. Please take a moment to get in touch with Bug Lawrence (dianalawrence@msn.com) or Mitch Lavign (avbiety@hotmail.com).
Send me an email, too. What song still plays in your head? What are you up to? How are you, really?
—Gina Barreca, 394 Browns Road, Storrs, CT 06268; gb@ginabarreca.com
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My memories are of great teachers, great friends, great evenings at The Bull’s Eye, and tea at the Hanover Inn, where I spilled Earl Grey on a borrowed Laura Ashley dress.
Yet my best pals, while always being grateful to the College, nevertheless felt dispossessed in some way.
Too urban, too shy, too unathletic, too ethnic, too outrageous, too bookish to be accommodated by what we saw as the “real Dartmouth,” we formed our own Dartmouth. We went to The Four Aces diner and ate gloriously bad-for-you food. We went to the Riverside grill and sang “A Good-Hearted Woman (In Love with a Good Timing Man)” when Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings hit the jukebox.
We schlepped endlessly around Occom Pond talking about what we’d do in 10, 15, 25 years. Opposing the law of Occam’s razor, we made far more assumptions than necessary and avoided direct routes. (I recently reminded John Bussey about an icy walk where he slipped and went knee-high into nearly frozen water.)
Arguing with each other and lambasting the system even as we found comfort and support in what we made for ourselves, I wouldn’t have imagined that 50 years in the future I’d be discussing shared and personal experiences with people who were on campus the same years but whom I wouldn’t meet until the next century.
In assembling the Class Notes, I’ve witnessed the formation of new communities of ’79 cronies (a term truly applying to us, deriving from the ancient Greek chronios, or “long-lasting,” based on “chronos” or “time”—so I hear).
Conversations with others who were in Hanover in 1976 are now often bravely honest, surprisingly fun, and genuinely hilarious. It’s not about bluffing anymore.
Tom Ewing made a great point in a recent exchange: “Recent grads often refer to their Class Notes as ‘mergers and acquisitions announcements.’ This can be intimidating for some people who aren’t shaking the world.” What Tom also pointed out is that “people keep coming back once they’ve been to one reunion or returning after a long absence.”
Tom hadn’t been to a reunion “until our 20th, but once I did, I saw that class of 1979 reunions are for everyone and got involved.”
As Margo Squire said, it’s also about seeing how others find their inspiration: “For some it is ziplining or rock climbing (yikes), for others, Habitat for Humanity. For me it’s interacting with others over art.”
In what Diana Lawrence (known to many as “Bug”) wonderfully calls “the spirit of kinship,” she and Mitch Lavign want to hear about a classmate with something to celebrate or one who is facing a particular challenge. They’ll then write a personal letter on behalf of the class of ’79. Please take a moment to get in touch with Bug Lawrence (dianalawrence@msn.com) or Mitch Lavign (avbiety@hotmail.com).
Send me an email, too. What song still plays in your head? What are you up to? How are you, really?
—Gina Barreca, 394 Browns Road, Storrs, CT 06268; gb@ginabarreca.com