My four years cooking, managing, and eating as part of Dolci stand out as some of the most important parts of my Middlebury education, and the memories that seem to most resonate whenever I return to Vermont or pass by a bustling restaurant kitchen.
Spending my Fridays in the basement kitchens of Chateau, FIC, and finally Proctor led me to many of my closest friends at Middlebury, taught me how to lead and teach peers (not without some bumps and bruises, as well as a few burns), and introduced friendships with the exceptional men and women of Dining Services who work tirelessly to serve an often under-appreciative student body. Learning how to balance the pressure of preparing a truly gourmet meal for nearly 100 people with the overarching reality that this was something we did for enjoyment remained one of the greatest challenges I faced at Middlebury, and one of the lasting lessons. Plus, it was just really, really fun (not to mention a great thing to talk about on my resume).
As was always true when we were forced to migrate to a new dining-hall home, these most recent changes will create both new challenges, as well as new opportunities (perhaps 51 Main will allow the broader town community to experience the pleasures of Dolci). And yet, I hope that some things stay the same: notably, that the organization remains well-connected with dining services, and that Dolci continues to bring together students and Midd Dining staff to collaborate, learn, make great food, and become friends.
But for one detail, you’d be hard pressed to pick out the former Defense Intelligence Agency analyst from among the two-dozen or so students milling around the large second-floor conference room in the Robert A. Jones ’59 House, home to Middlebury’s Rohatyn Center for International Affairs.
It’s an unseasonably warm day in the middle of March, so most of the students are decked out in spring comfort-wear: light fleeces, down vests, Midd sweat shirts. The former analyst, though closer in age to the twenty somethings than to the professors and townsfolk who have also descended on RAJ, stands just a little bit apart because he’s sporting a wrinkled, gray pinstriped suit and maroon dress shirt. Otherwise, you’d just assume that the tall, lanky fellow with a boyish haircut, boats for shoes (size 15), and a somewhat pasty skin tone is one of the many eager students who have turned out for a noonday lecture on the Iraq War.
The medical facility at Camp Ramadi, the U.S. military base for thousands of soldiers in the heart of Iraq’s Al Anbar Province, is a hardened building that features a trauma ward about the size of a small conference room. The walls of the room are lined with medical supplies, and every piece of equipment—gurneys, operating tables, crash carts—is portable, allowing the utmost flexibility when dealing with multiple incoming casualties. When the casualties do come in, the room is often crowded with people, though they are well versed in the choreography of medical combat trauma; rarely does someone get in another’s way.
Matching a crinkly, crimson tube top and glittery skirt to her auburn-tinted- brunette, shoulder-length hair and ruby lipstick, Anaïs Mitchell ’04 looks bewitching on stage, part siren and part waif; only her ice blue eyes offset the fiery red. She strums her acoustic guitar as the sold-out crowd at Club Passim, the legendary folk haunt in Cambridge, Massachusetts, nods along in appreciation. And then we hear her voice, a light, fresh thing, and a jolt of energy shoots through the room. This, this is something new.
In 2001, PBS NewsHour correspondent Elizabeth Farnsworth ’65 asked Henry Kissinger why human rights weren’t really at the top of his list of priorities when he met with Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet in 1976. “Why did you not say to him: You’re violating human rights. You’re killing people. Stop it!” she asked the former National Security Advisor and secretary of state. Kissinger punted: “Human rights were not an international issue at that time, the way they have become since. That was not what diplomats and secretaries of states and presidents were saying generally to anybody in those days.” Winning the Cold War, at whatever cost, was the only thing that mattered; in South America, this meant preventing what Nixon referred to as a “red sandwich”—a continent of communist movements anchored by Cuba and Chile.
On the afternoon of May 12, a massive earthquake measuring 7.9 on the Richter scale ripped through southwest China, killing at least 70,000 people, leaving more than five million homeless, and incurring damage estimated at $20 billion.
Meg Young ’07, a staff consultant with the international development group ECOLOGIA, was with her colleague and classmate Kate Leyland ’07 in the Sichuan Province city of Chengdu, 80 kilometers southeast of the quake’s epicenter, meeting with bankers when the Earth shook.
Middlebury College President Ronald D. Liebowitz presented Citizen’s Medals for distinguished service to the community to Margaret “Peg” Martin, G. Kenneth Perine, and Ann McGinley Ross at an awards ceremony on March 4.
Since the College’s bicentennial year in 2000, it has been customary for the College to confer Citizen’s Medals to area residents for their sustained service. The recipients are nominated by members of the community and are selected by a committee of College faculty and staff.
Local artists are accustomed to painting on canvas or paper, but a new fund-raiser for the Addison County Parent/Child Center has them embellishing a different medium—Adirondack chairs.
Eighteen artists including painter Woody Jackson ’70 and woodcarver Gary Starr have donated their talents to the “Chairity for Children” live benefit auction that will take place Sunday, Feb. 1, at 4 p.m. in the McCullough Social Space at Middlebury College.