Last fall, I had the pleasure of visiting Moosilauke Ravine Lodge during DOC Trips to watch Lodj Croo greet a new group of first-year students a night which many of us count among our most memorable Dartmouth experiences. We all sat in the vaulted timber dining room, with Lodj Croo dancing and singing around us as we ate their food lasagna cooked with love, if also with gummy bears and eager trip leaders and trippees recounted their epic three-day stint in the New Hampshire wilderness. Then, as plates and tables were cleared and the energy was brought down, one of our hosts took a seat on a stool to continue Lodj Croo's tradition of giving the freshmen a "Sense of Place" talk.
I prepared myself for a story of pain and adversity that would end in some lesson for success at Dartmouth College. Should we spend less time editing our seminar paper to develop relationships with the people we love? Is there value in pulling back-to-back all-nighters during finals week if it allows extra nights out with friends? Which Foco employees are going to sarcastically reply to the question "can I have a"? These are all issues that we've faced, and as we sat there expectantly, I readied my mental pen and paper to take notes.
The speaker, appearing normal aside from the three colored mohawks on his head, started by asking the audience for a noun. Then an adjective. Then an adverb, two nouns, a location on Dartmouth's campus, and several other words which would go into the template of his time as an undergraduate. We were playing Mad Libs, and unfortunately for him, the audience was playing God with his past three years in Hanover. The resulting "story" continued the evening's theme of comedy, until the speaker filled in his own words, described what his experiences at Dartmouth had meant to him, and offered advice on how to find a niche in Dartmouth's culture and then branch away from that niche.
As the Class of 2011 has edged closer and closer to graduation, the concept of a Mad Lib has continued to grow on me as a metaphor for our time here. Most of us entered college three years and nine months ago as trippees on a [blank] (outdoor activity) trip. Our freshman roommate was [blank] (proper noun). We decided to major in [blank] (major) and spend our afternoons [blank] (verb ending in "ing", usually "studying," more recently "procrastinating"). Some of those choices were our own, while others tended to be made for us, either by lack of choice or from some greater outside force. In significant ways, these choices have given meaning to the piece of paper we will receive at graduation.
We have many shared experiences from our time at Dartmouth. We've had to brave the harsh winters of Hanover, some daring swims in Occom Pond, although some (including myself) just enjoyed watching. We've all complained about the line at The Hop, the extreme weather and the monopoly-level prices of Dartmouth Dining Services. And at the same time, we've been able to broaden ourselves in one of the country's most beautiful settings, with some of the greatest faculty and most passionate people in the country. DDS really isn't that bad, either.
Just the same, there are differences. Our classmates have excelled in the classroom, on the athletic field, on the stage and at the ends of pong tables. We have each written a different, exciting story for ourself. Those differences underscore the character of our class and have created a greater opportunity for learning than I can appreciate. This Sunday, those different stories all come back together.
Norman Maclean '24 sums up graduation for me far more poetically than I ever could at the end of his novel, "A River Runs Through It" one I recommend every Dartmouth person read: "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs."
To those still writing your Mad Lib at Dartmouth: be bold. Branch out, and discover new words and meanings. The experiences that will teach you the most are those that challenge you with differences and adversity.
To my class: As we walk across the stage on Sunday, we will fill in the last blank of our undergraduate experience with a diploma from Dartmouth College. I am extremely blessed to be a part of your class, and look forward to hearing your stories as we move forward.
See y'all at Homecoming.
Quincy Darbyshire '11 is the former publisher.
