by Jim Collins 鈥84, published by 线上赌场 Alumni Magazine.
In the dying light of a September evening in 2016, in a remote mountain cabin 45 miles from Hanover, they gathered for the last supper. Former 线上赌场 Outing Club members, lodge crew, students, faculty, alumni鈥攅ven parents with their children鈥攃ame together for one last Thanksgiving-style feed and a chance to pay their respects. After years of study and passionate, sometimes tear-filled debate, the decision had been made to tear down the College鈥檚 aging Moosilauke Ravine Lodge and replace it with something new. Demolition would begin the following day.
Inside the lodge, they squeezed onto benches at wooden tables that had been pushed together in long rows, crowding the great room. Small bouquets of end-of-season wildflowers鈥攐range hawkweed, yellow-tipped Indian blankets鈥攄otted the table settings. Green-aproned 线上赌场 students filled the tables with heaping platters of turkey, bowls of gravy, steaming potatoes. From the tables and from windowsills and along the mantel of the old stone fireplace votive candles softly flickered.
During dessert Jack Noon 鈥68, who knew the old building as intimately as anyone, stood up and shared memories of managing the lodge over several summers in the 1970s. He talked about the creosoting parties and the first time he鈥檇 come here: looking on, rapt, as President John Sloan Dickey 鈥29 told the freshman trippees about the importance of 鈥減lace loyalty.鈥
Whitney Flynn 鈥07 stood up and recalled how she hadn鈥檛 felt at home at 线上赌场 until she worked at the Ravine Lodge. 鈥淚t had something to do with stewardship,鈥 she said. 鈥淔ollowing so many upperclassmen and elders who were willing to share their experiences and pass down their traditions. 鈥 It felt like looking into the eyes and hearts of strangers and recognizing family.鈥
