I spent most of the weekend at Carleton College, in Northfield, MN. I graduated from Carleton in 1972 and next year my class will be having its 35-year reunion. I had been conscripted volunteered to serve on the Class Committee. I probably would have done this in any case, but since the head had done me a big favor back in June, I was definitely on the team.

I arrived Friday in time for lunch. I quickly found others of my class, and found myself sitting next to RS, who, like me, had gone to Stanford after Carleton. I had not seem in a long time, and we talked about what we had been up, realized that I could not remember his wife’s name–they had seemed like such a perfect couple at Stanford. Perhaps this was just as well; a minute or two later he said he was divorced and remarried.

We had 14 people present from my class. I had only known 3 or 4 well from before, but we all bonded quite quickly. Throughout the weekend we ate together, sat together at the general sessions, and hung out together when we were not specifically scheduled. It was all very intense–since we don’t see each other all that often it was important not to miss a minute here. I remembered that one of Poul Anderson’s characters had said something similar about visits to the Old Phoenix tavern.

The group was larger and more diverse than when I had been on the committee last time–five years ago. At one point then I looked around at my classmates and asked “Am I the only non-lawyer here?” Our chair (a lawyer herself) apparently had taken this to heart

We had a lot to do in the working sessions. In some ways it was a lot like being on the committee for an Science Fiction Convention. A lot needs to happen in the next 10 months, and the work will be done by volunteers. We will get a lot of support from the College Staff, but we and the college both know that we are primary. This is our reunion.

The College President gave a good talk Saturday after lunch. Apparently the degree of alumni involvement at Carleton is almost unique, and the envy of his counterparts at other institutions. This seems consistent with what I have seen among my friends.

To be continued.

I spent most of the weekend at Carleton College, in Northfield, MN. I graduated from Carleton in 1972 and next year my class will be having its 35-year reunion. I had been conscripted volunteered to serve on the Class Committee. I probably would have done this in any case, but since the head had done me a big favor back in June, I was definitely on the team. Continue reading →