After 60 Years, a Discovery
Middlebury Magazine brightened up a blah February day in Virginia for me.
As soon as I opened up the winter 2008 issue, I went back 60-plus years and was once again a skinny little girl. It was the profile of Cecily Mattocks Marshall ’54 that did it (“The Prisoner”). You see, like her, I was an “Involuntary Guest of his Imperial Majesty” in the Santo Tomas Internment Camp in the Philippines during World War II. Also like Cecily, I didn’t talk much about it except with my family or friends who had been there, but for different reasons: I didn’t want to be known as “that girl who, you know, was a POW of the Japanese,” preferring to be known for my present-day self rather than for my childhood experiences.
Unlike Cecily, I haven’t been back to Manila (after STIC, I never wanted to be anywhere I wasn’t sure I could leave), and I haven’t been to the big reunions in California and Nevada. I did go to a couple in New York City 50 years ago, but not since then. Like Cecily, I have kept in touch with a few friends from STIC. And, of course, I keep hearing of old friends having died in the past 60-plus years.
So far, since publication of the story, Cecily and I have exchanged only letters and e-mails. We hope to meet again sometime soon, either in Massachusetts, when I go up in June, or in Virginia when she comes down here. (Another weird Middlebury coincidence: She was interviewed because she attended Midd as an undergraduate, and I received the magazine because I attended as a graduate student at the Spanish School.)
Now, who else from Middlebury was in Santo Tomas Internment Camp?
Ann Wilson Wohlhueter, MA Spanish ’ 62
Fredericksburg, Virginia
Moved by Cecily and Martha
After reading the article about Cecily Marshall ’54 (“The Prisoner,” winter 2008), my eyes filled with tears. This reaction was compounded by reading that the author, John Wolfson, “profiled the late Judge Martha Sosman ’72”—as I had not known that Judge Sosman had passed away. I obviously missed seeing the obituary in the magazine.
Please continue to present your readers with such fine examples of strong individuals! They—the people and the articles—are truly inspiring.
Carol Snow
Middlebury, Vermont
Winking Back
A rustic wooden bench, on open lawn, without pathways, was the chosen essay by H. Kay Merriman ’10 for the first edition of the feature on favorite campus places (“That Wooden Bench,” fall 2007). She astutely hints at the paradox that the idea of looking out, even over the majestic Vermont mountain landscape, is not as far a horizon as looking within. It makes me smile to think that the bench is always there, on a lawn with no pathway, just as our inner world is always there, without roadways, offering its infinite jumble and flashes of imagination, of consciousness, of memories.
The constancy of the rustic bench pleases me, thinking of it there, even when the Adirondack chairs are removed for the season, even when the snow falls. The timelessness strikes me—there through the seasons, there when memory of what was blends into our present moment. Rather than an absence, it becomes our constant companion.
Middlebury College has a tradition of planting a tree for each student who died during their years at the College. The parents choose the kind of tree and the place on campus. Beside this tree, we gave that bench in memory of our son, Daniel Stark ’01. It faces the freshman dorm where he met the friends who enlivened him and stayed connected to him. We cannot know the mysteries of why life is cut short for some, any more than we can know the mysteries of the Vermont mountains at the bench’s back or the wild growth of one’s freshman year that the bench faces. But we can know that each is a shimmering gift that continues to give, as was Daniel.
All scales of time and timelessness drift through my mind and snap together in the image Kay Merriman gives of this bench as a portal for “reading profound works or seeking to be profound in one’s own right.” The season of the ever-growing tree, the season of four college years imprinting the rest of life, the season of a life itself embedded in memory after its demise—all layers
of timelessness within time. Thank you, Kay, for giving each reader the experience of a moment on the bench to remind us we are connected to all moments, all profound works, all memories. I suspect Daniel is winking back at you.
Lois Stark
Houston, Texas
Offense Taken
As a graduate of the Bread Loaf School of English, I took great umbrage at Timothy Billings’s disparaging and pretentious remark that his students’ limited understanding of Hamlet is caused by “well-meaning high-school teacher[s]” (“The Mysteries of Hamlet,” winter 2008).
My teaching of Hamlet was informed not only by my own scholarship, but by the insights of legendary Bread Loaf professors Wylie Sypher and Ted Tayler, two staggering intellects who nurtured generations of secondary school teachers on the mountain. Such a patronizing statement does not ennoble a professor at a college that is so deeply committed to educating high-school teachers.
Jeanie Goddard, MA English ’ 71
Needham, Massachusetts
The writer is an English teacher at Wellesley High School in Wellesley Hills, Massachusetts.
More Matter, Less Art, Please
Despite its arresting claim that to understand the “full complexity” of Shakespeare’s “most famous play” requires “a Herculean effort,” the recent article, “The Mysteries of Hamlet” (winter 2008), struck me as much ado about nothing.
Timothy Billings, who casts himself as a “Shakespeare professor,” tells us it’s an “incredibly complex” and “difficult, difficult play,” apparently beyond the grasp of “a well-meaning high-school teacher” (like myself).
I searched the article in vain for those “discoveries” that he says “will spin your head around.” What I found, instead, were trivial topical references (e.g., “two actors on stage joking about how one had stabbed the other to death in different plays on the very same stage”), some student blog posts (e.g., a “relatable, ordinary human being who must deal with internal conflict”), and the usual quotations (e.g., “Neither a borrower nor [a] lender be. . . ”).
One wishes for “More matter with less art.” Not just “Words, words, words.”
G.T. Viglirolo, MA English ’ 71
Brookline, Massachusetts
The writer is an English teacher at Brookline High School in Brookline, Massachusetts.
Cheers to Mr. Tots
In the article “Air Play” in the winter 2008, I was glad to see that radio theater is back at WRMC. Back in 1987, the Hepburn Zoo, which at the time, was a student theater group started by non-theater majors, put on a weekly radio show. Andrew Peterson ’87 wrote a hilarious detective serial, about a plot to clone Hitler’s uvula. Not only did my talented, long-lost friend, write the piece, but played multiple parts, not the least of which was the aforementioned uvula, in many accents, voices and gurgles. Also, Eric Winick ’90 wrote a Dallas satire called Rutland. In the pre-Powerbook days of yore, the sound of a person pushed off a cliff was made with a quarter and a glass of water. We were an eclectic group trying to create magic through our voices. We didn’t exactly bear the weight of the world on our shoulder pads, but once a week we did manage to distract, for an hour, from far weightier subjects like acid rain, “Greed is good” mentalities, and the AIDS epidemic. Cheers to this new generation of entertainers.
Daphne Gil ’ 87
Southampton, New York
Teach Them Manners!
I graduated from Middlebury 50 years ago, and I have always been proud of my school—until the last several years. Recently, I was angered by the unsigned article “At Arms,” which was published in the winter 2008 edition of Middlebury Magazine. It appears that the College is reluctant to allow military recruitment on campus. This is open for orderly debate in academia.
I graduated from Middlebury 50 years ago, and I have always been proud of my school—until the last several years. Recently, I was angered by the unsigned article “At Arms,” which was published in the winter 2008 edition of Middlebury Magazine. It appears that the College is reluctant to allow military recruitment on campus. This is open for orderly debate in academia. In November, the Marines set up recruitment on campus. MOQA—Middlebury Open Queer Alliance—had a demonstration. The mere name of this group is a perfect example of puerile flaunting. Kid stuff. The magazine gave them the lead in this article! This is so very typical of left-wing journalism, with a spin. Why give the ragtag MOQA credence as something special in exercising freedom of speech? This mob stuff is outrageous!
MOQA apparently is allowed to carry on, with impunity, in using the manners of spoiled children. The magazine article gave them full credence in expressing their rights! Yes, they have rights. And the military has rights to go in harm’s way to defend the rights of MOQA to carry on petulant protests. MOQA baloney was catered to here. If a group of heterosexual students protested open college discussion on legitimate concerns of the homosexual community, would the magazine print it? The Marines were there simply to recruit in an honorable profession to defend us. They don’t set policy.
I put my time in the military. I have the right to be embarrassed at such rubbish as using MOQA as the lead in “At Arms” in my college magazine. I am outraged that you would mention the MOQA protest. The president’s silent approval promulgates this “intellectual” pursuit in damning the Marines in this unorthodox way. Hogwash! Leave the Marines alone!
What is going on here? Why doesn’t the College clamp down on the methods of MOQA and teach them manners and the forum of debate? I don’t know why my alma mater would find cause to mention the action of MOQA, a flock of spoiled kids who apparently rant and rave with impunity in hallway tantrums in never-never land.
William Burgess ’ 57
Arlington, Texas
The writer served in the Army Reserve.
Soon to Be Released
Permit me to salute President Liebowitz for the sensible and responsible position he has taken on allowing military recruiters on the Middlebury campus. At the same time, I also strongly endorse his position on allowing gays and lesbians to serve in the armed forces of the United States.
It is not generally understood that the Department of Defense is required to comply with very specific congressional legislation, the law of the land, which is highly restrictive regarding the conditions under which gays and lesbians may serve in the armed forces. The military services have no significant flexibility in their regulations governing this matter.
Our nation has decided that we want a volunteer military. Whatever one may think about our current involvement in Iraq, and I am on record as strongly opposing the invasion and the occupation, or regardless of one’s views on the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, there are solid reasons for supporting an armed force made up of well-qualified citizens across the spectrum of society, even from the college community. Denying military recruiters access to the campus is misplacing the blame for restrictions on opportunities for gays and lesbians to serve.
I recently completed serving on a military study group, composed of a senior retired officer from each of the military services, which examined in detail the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy and prepared a series of recommendations. Our report will be released, hopefully with wide publicity, in the near future.
Robert Gard
Pebble Beach, California
The writer retired from the United States Army as a lieutenant general. He is also president emeritus of the Monterey Institute of International Studies.
Getting There by Yourself
I was bemused by the story of the chemistry department’s recruiting scheme (“Boom!” winter 2008). If one wishes to study chemistry because he or she “love[s] to blow stuff up,” all well and good. After all, who doesn’t love a good fireworks show? But the department chair’s final comment, that after the pyrotechnics “we talked about the department and where a chemistry degree can get you in life” (italics mine), brought to mind the apocryphal story of the Vermont farmer, rocking on his porch, and the tourist who stops his car to ask if this road will get him to Rutland, to which the Vermonter replies, truthfully enough, “Road don’t go nowayuh, got to get theyah y’self!” The same goes, I think, for where a chemistry degree—or any degree—from Middlebury or anywhere else can get you in life: “got to get theyah y’self!”
Phil Davis ’ 74
Albuquerque New Mexico
Put People First
I was struck by the responses in the winter 2008 letters section about people with “ordinary” lives, diversity, and the self-disclosure by people with disabilities. In particular, Karin Kosoc ’61 talks about compassion and expresses her wish that “Middlebury remains a place where the boundaries of compassion continue to expand, and that the magazine can serve as a supportive forum for those in need.” The editor’s note says that Ms. Kosoc “teaches learning-disabled and emotionally handicapped-students.” As a start, I propose that the magazine adopt a style policy of using “People First” language, not so much as a step towards compassion, but as a reminder to recognize that we are individuals first.
“People First” language is just what it sounds like: put the person first, then, if necessary and relevant, the label, diagnostic descriptor, or name of the disability. A person is a person first; a person is not only—or first and foremost—his or her handicap, disability, or exceptionality. Thus, one would speak or write of a “person with autism,” not an “autistic person.” The editor’s note would become “teaches students with learning disabilities and emotional disturbances” (the latter, though cumbersome, is a specific category under the IDEA amendments of 1997 under which students can qualify for services, protections, and accommodations to receive a free and appropriate public education). A shorter version would be “teaches students with exceptionalities” or even “teaches students with special needs.”
While this usage has met with criticism for being inelegant, too lengthy, grammatically incorrect, and even a sop to political correctness, I submit that it can go a long way to reminding us that we are all more than just one descriptor, label, or medical diagnosis, and that we are not limited in our lives—in our personalities, how we live, and what we do—to just that one label, and especially by what it may convey to others. George Orwell considered “language as an instrument for expressing and not concealing or preventing thought” in his 1946 essay, “Politics and the English Language.” He wrote, “But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought. A bad usage can spread by tradition and imitation, even among people who should and do know better.” While “People First” language may break at least two of his rules—“never use a long word where a short one will do” and “if it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out”—this usage may meet his standard for free expression that does not conceal or prevent thought.
Chris Dougherty ’ 85
Bernard, Maine
The Long Road to Recovery
I’d like to commend my class correspondent Steve Crampton ’61 for his sensitive and detailed writing about our classmate, Karin Kosoc (winter 2008). It made me feel more accepted once again into the Middlebury family. Like Karin, I had to leave the College; but the College has never left me. I still recall proudly signing the matriculation register and being told that from that time on I would be a Middlebury alumnus, a status I have always prized. Middlebury Magazine is always anticipated and read thoroughly. I still have a maple sea chest, made for me by a woodworking friend of my family, with “John McConnell/Middlebury/1961” carved on the front. It is now the centerpiece in the living room of my apartment in Monterey, California.
Like Karin I was forced to leave Middlebury before graduating because of mental illness. At the end of our sophomore year, I experienced the first serious episode of debilitating bipolar affective disorder, then called manic depression and thought to be treatable with psychotherapy alone. In the 20 years of unmedicated and inappropriate therapy that followed my leaving Middlebury, I careened through life. Along the way, in my more functional periods, I earned my BA at the University of Maine after several attempts and pursued graduate work at the University of Pennsylvania. I was hospitalized for the first time while serving in the U.S. Air Force, from which I was honorably discharged for medical reasons.
Between periods of psychosis and lucidity I pursued a career as a musician. In 1980, I ended up in San Francisco, where, among other gigs, I sang with the chorus of the San Francisco Opera, the Grace Cathedral Choir, and as soloist and chorale member at the Carmel Bach Festival. My life became more and more chaotic. I was hospitalized on a regular basis, often after suicide attempts. The madness and the music became indistinguishable. I crashed to the depths of existing on general assistance, living in roach-riddled hotels, just one step from a homeless street person.
In the late ’80s, when the nature of bipolar disorder as a biochemical imbalance in the brain that could be treated with medication was just being understood, I was fortunate to be properly diagnosed. My recovery began. The road was not easy. There were setbacks. For every two steps forward there was one back. I had such severe reactions to my medications that drug was piled on drug to counteract the effects of each other. I became a zombie and, unwilling to live in a stupor, often became noncompliant with my medical discipline.
At last I found both a compassionate therapist who helped me heal the guilty feelings, the shame, and self-loathing that had accumulated over 20 years of sick behavior, and a brilliant psychiatrist, who carefully monitored my medications, allowing me to take advantage of the counsel I was receiving. One of the most painful of these feelings was my failure at Middlebury, resulting in a self-imposed estrangement from the school. Another debilitating guilt, which began at Middlebury, was caused by my inability to accept being gay. I shared my family’s and society’s belief that homosexuality was a mental illness. It took a long time to untangle the confusion, but with the assistance of my gay physicians, I succeeded.
I am now retired and have lived for five years in a small senior citizens apartment in one of the most beautiful places in the world, five minutes from the beach and one block from the Monterey Institute of International Studies. If any of my brothers and sisters from Middlebury come through Monterey, I would be happy to show them the town.
As Steve wrote with regard to Karin, perhaps not many people will remember me. I would be glad to hear from anyone who would like to get in touch. Hearing about Karin’s struggle has helped with my own healing. I think there must be many people like Karin and me who have been part of the Middlebury family.
John R. McConnell ’ 61
Monterey, California
Dim in Any Light
I would appreciate it if the graphic designers of the magazine remember that some of our eyes are getting a little older, that sometimes we don’t have good light by which to read, and that the primary goal of a magazine is to provide information before we worry about “pretty.” The short piece on winter term on page 22 of the winter 2008 edition features a font color that is far too light a contrast. Even if our eyes were younger, it is still important to keep nice strong contrast between letters and background, avoid busy backgrounds, etc. The goal of a magazine is to be capable of being read.
Anne Marie Miller ’ 75
Lilburn, Georgia
Found a Flub
I’ve been receiving Middlebury Magazine since 2001, and I’ve always enjoyed the content. I don’t recall ever seeing a word or letter that escaped the proofreader(s), so as I read Matt Jennings’s recent editorial, “Arbor Cultural” (winter 2008), I stared and stared at the word “found” in the sentence that read, in part, “as my wife is so found of pointing out to me.” I thought that I was either misreading the sentence or that I must be tired. I’ve looked again and again—and it leaps off the page at me. It is beyond my control to see these, no matter what I’m reading. This one, in particular, is humorous, in the context of Mr. Jennings “finding” the beauty and peacefulness of the sculpture when he returned.
In any case, thanks to the editor for writing on the subject. It may help folks gain an appreciation and understanding of Patrick Dougherty’s work, and of this sculpture, specifically.
Anne Berlin, MA English ’ 01
Gallup, New Mexico
Editors’ note: A typo found, indeed. Of course, now the error leaps off the page at us, as well.
Wrong Discipline
I’d like to draw the editors’ attention to a small but important error in the winter 2008 issue. On the map in “Oh, The Places They’ll Go,” the editors list the winter term course to Ethiopia as a sociology course. Much as I respect and admire sociology, it was a Teacher Education course—TEDU 1002, Reading Cultures: Writing Lives—which I led.
Claudia Cooper
Middlebury, Vermont
A Case for the Accusative
I appreciate Middlebury Magazine, particularly the letters department. On page nine of the summer 2007 issue, the writer of a letter titled “Grammar 101” corrected mistakes in a contribution. Ironically, on the same page, I saw other not corrected mistakes in a letter from Cambridge, Ontario, in which the writer penned, “I am sure he was referring to Storrs Lee ’28, who I found to be a fine gentleman.”
I realize that nowadays the accusative case of “who” (i.e., “whom”) is much less used. However, by the old standards, the sentence should read: “I am sure he was referring to” (person or object=accusative case) “whom I found to be a fine gentleman.” Two sentences later: “It is because of people like him.” should have been “It’s because of people like he.”
Oh well, I think our old German professor, “Papa Neuse”—God bless his soul—would nod in agreement.
J. Roggenbauer, MA German ’ 65
Salzburg, Austria
Happy Eating
I am replying to the letter written by Ralph Brooks of Foxboro, Massachusetts (“Remember the Dog Team?”) that was published in the winter 2008 issue. In 1938, the year I graduated from Middlebury, my parents took me to dinner at the Dog Team Tavern. I hadn’t thought of that meal in years, but I was recently looking through my recipe file, and I stumbled across a recipe for the Dog Team’s cinnamon buns! I had never made this treat—I didn’t even know I had the recipe—but I quickly rectified this situation, and I can report that I love them just as much now as I did then. How sad to think that I had neglected to make them all these years.
I was sad to learn that the Dog Team had burned down and even more sad to learn that it wouldn’t be rebuilt. If there’s anyone interested in a nostalgic culinary trip, I’d be happy to provide the recipe.
Janet Randall Cook Morgan ’ 38
Charlestown, Rhode Island
Bon Voyage, Dutch
I am saddened by the death of Wilfred C. Heinz ’37, a good friend since my days at Middlebury. But also I am uplifted by the newspaper reporting about him as one of America’s greatest sportswriters. (A number of prominent publications and media outlets—Sports Illustrated, the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, “60 Minutes,” among them—offered tributes to Heinz in the days after his death.)
I am saddened by the death of Wilfred C. Heinz ’37, a good friend since my days at Middlebury. But also I am uplifted by the newspaper reporting about him as one of America’s greatest sportswriters. (A number of prominent publications and media outlets—Sports Illustrated, the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, “60 Minutes,” among them—offered tributes to Heinz in the days after his death.) Already at Middlebury, Dutch (as he was there known) was cranking out great stories about sports. He and another fraternity brother of mine competed for editorship of the Campus, a position that finally went to the less sports-oriented writer, Ralph Pickard ’37. But Dutch, though disappointed, was not discouraged.
The fraternity, to which the three of us belonged, Sigma Phi Epsilon, attracted at that time a considerable number of writing-oriented members. Everett (Joe) Allen ’38, who later became a newspaper editor on Martha’s Vineyard (and later wrote a great book about the 1938 hurricane), was one of these. And I, at considerable expense to my grades (!), managed to become editor of both the Campus (after Pickard) and the Kaleidoscope, the college yearbook.
Dutch coined for me the nickname, “Rapid Robert.” It seems to have stuck in my legs if not in my wider persona. Bon voyage, Dutch. Thanks for truly understanding and communicating to others both the visible façade and deeper meanings of sports.
Bob Matteson ’ 38
Bennington, Vermont
Letters Policy
Letters addressing topics discussed in the magazine are given priority, though they may be edited for brevity or clarity. On any given subject we will print letters that address that subject, and then in the next issue, letters that respond to the first letters. After that, we will move on to new subjects. Send letters to: Middlebury Magazine, 5 Court Street, Middlebury College, Middlebury, VT 05753.
Letters addressing topics discussed in the magazine are given priority, though they may be edited for brevity or clarity. On any given subject we will print letters that address that subject, and then in the next issue, letters that respond to the first letters. After that, we will move on to new subjects. Send letters to:
Middlebury Magazine
5 Court Street
Middlebury College
Middlebury, VT 05753 E-mail: middmag@middlebury.edu