Mar 1995
Well, the holidays are over, twelfth night has passed, and we are now in that magical, tantalizing lull before the Super Bowl, and it is time to cast around to you for news of your class, destined to reach you at some point around St. Patrick’s Day. A reminder to all of you who run your lives by the rhythms of the calendar: it’s only 30 days or so until your 1994 tax return is due, a length of time which can be measured by the last barrage of mail from the numerous Yale mechanisms seeking your money like beggars lined up on the side of the street. I hope you all gave generously; probably as I did, you hastened to mail in your contributions before the new 32-cent first-class stamps took hold.
The mailbag is distressingly thin, and even what is there paralyzes me with illegible penmanship. I shall move through the thicket in a feeble attempt to entertain you with such of the news as I can decipher.
Wayne Butterfield, who, if I recall correctly, has spent more of the last 25 years in the Far East than in the U.S., has written in from Bangkok to report that he is teaching English there. He notes that the pollution is a bit hard to take, but there is also a “gold-rush atmosphere that energizes all sides of life.” Another traveler: Bruce Bolnick has just returned from three years as macroeconomic policy advisor to the government of Zambia, which he describes as exciting and rewarding. He does note that “prospects look good for turnaround” of one of Africa’s problem areas. In flora and fauna department, he notes that he managed to spot “600 of Zambia’s 734 bird species” (that’s 81.747 percent, folks), and that his wife wrote a soon-to-be published Guide to Wildflowers of Zambia. Finally, Bill Shullenberger wrote to complain that his class reunion book seems to have gotten lost in the mail to him in Uganda, whence he has since returned to Sarah Lawrence. We have tried to unite him with another via the less-challenging mail route to Bronxville.
Sam Weisman writes from Beverly Hills (zip code is 90210) with news that family (wife a new MA in psychology from Pepperdine, kids) are all doing well, and that the kids have small roles in his latest film, Bye Bye Love, due out in March. In the media department, those of you who are interested in outsmarting Wall Street may wish to check outDaniel Selver’s new and improved third edition of his book, Outsmarting Wall Street. He is concerned that if the sales don’t pick up, his kids may be working their way through college. Whatsamatta? Give ’em some starter money, and tell ’em to outsmart Wall Street.
Continuity and change department: Peter Watson recently had the sad chore of selling Breezecroft, his dad’s (Class of ’38, ’41Law) farm, after the death of his father. This closed a continuum beginning in 1926 when his grandfather was given the farm in a property deal. Jonathan Hoffman asks us to greet the class’s latest offspring, Jared Cawley Hoffman, “by Jonathan out of Donna” (that’s what it says). He notes that the young colt was born November 22, hence the absence of the family at The Game (“we were staying close to home”). He mentions that he nevertheless caught the Harvard game together with Tom Reed, while sharing good cheer and “awful jokes.”
I have received an official-looking press release from Price Waterhouse (complete with a 5×7 glossy!), telling me that George Strong has been elected for a five-year term to the firm’s “policy board”; the release then helpfully informs us that this is the board of directors. We are also informed that George is managing partner for the west region of the “dispute analysis and corporate recovery” unit. It also says he has a wife and four children.
Reunion reviews: James Grew writes that the “reunion was a classic, one much enjoyed; and many thanks to all those who spent so many hours setting it up. And the book! . . . One of the most fascinating I’ve read, which I did, cover to cover.” James continues his strenuous life in waterskiing, here, there, and everywhere. Alan Hurwitz was also pleased to see so many old friends at the reunion, many of whom, to his surprise, he actually recognized. He is now living in Amherst, Massachusetts, and is busy consulting with the U.N. and others, while fighting aches, pains, and opponents on the tennis court.
In an effort to get this to our publisher by the deadline, I will close here with — to universal disappointment — a minimum of wisecracks. But we do need new material. Please send me your innermost thoughts, suitable for publication, to the above address.