Class Note 1993
The large majority of the Class Notes that I have written during the last couple years have been joyous affairs, relating a lot of the joys and successes that we gladly share with others: new jobs, new family members, new experiences. We revel in the new, almost as if we can relive those experiences from 20 years back when everything was in the future tense; the back of this magazine looks forward as it simultaneously looks back, in both directions with green-colored glasses on. But if we think of our class and what we also try to foster here, it is also that we are something of a family—and that not all our experiences are bright and sunny, and that sometimes we need to share the immense pain as well as the joys.
Several folks related news to me concerning Madeleine James, the 5-year-old daughter of Collie James. In mid-January Maddie was diagnosed with a malignant, inoperable brain tumor known as diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma (DIPG). Although DIPG is mercifully not a disease that generates much pain on its own, she quickly lost control of all motor functions before passing away in her sleep on March 13. Before that, however, Collie and Kajsa, Maddie’s mother, committed to help build a seaside learning center at Maddie’s favorite location in the whole world, where she had the most amazing experiences at summer camp: the Ocean Institute in Dana Point, California. (Looking at the plans for this place, I can see why she loved it: Right next to the water, it provides hands-on experiences for kids of all ages.) Please consider contributing to the Maddie James Foundation (and learning more about both her and plans for the learning center) by visiting the website at http://maddiejamesfoundation.org.
I asked Collie for permission to dedicate this column to Maddie’s memory. He replied yes, and added the following: “Since Maddie’s diagnosis in January I have been truly touched by the outpouring of love and support from classmates around the world. You have lifted me up during an unspeakably difficult time. I’ll never have the joy of seeing Maddie graduate from kindergarten—let alone watch proudly as she walked across that stage in front of Baker—but I have a million memories that will sustain me through the darkest moments. With your help I hope to soon visit the Maddie James Seaside Learning Center and see a million more memories being created by other families. And in that, I know Maddie will be with me forever. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
To Collie—and, indeed, to all of us ’93s who have lost someone close over the last 20 years—I extend peace, love and the warmest of memories. Though ’round the girdled earth we roam, our touch with each other remains.
—Jeffrey Middents, 505 Ethan Allen Ave., Takoma Park, MD 20912; dartmouth93@gmail.com
