We gave you our best shot at some of the high points of UNH’s sesquicentennial in our fall and winter issues. Now it’s your turn.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Okay, we admit it: The stories that follow don’t actually span 150 years, but they do, in fact, span a full 75.

As we wrap up our yearlong celebration of the university’s sesquicentennial, we are struck by the number of you who took the time to share your thoughts about your years here — from memorable classes and professors to off-campus capers, from the early 1940s through the 2010s. We hope you enjoy your fellow Wildcats’ stories, which we expect might bring a few fond chuckles and a flash or two or recognition from your own UNH days.


illustration of a woman on a bicycle by a large clock

In 1942, when I was a sophomore at UNH and one of seven students in the new occupational therapy program, I took a woodworking course from professor Wes Brett at Hewitt Hall. One night when our class was working late, I looked at the clock and exclaimed, “It’s 10:50 and I have to be back at Congreve South by the 11:00 curfew! What can I do?” Professor Brett said quietly, “My bike is outside the front door. If you pedal as fast as you can across the front lawn, I think you can make it on time.” I jumped on the bike and “hot-footed” it from Hewitt to Congreve South just as the T-Hall clock finished striking 11.

—Esther Drew Eastman ’45


I didn’t know it at the time, but as a student in math engineering during the late 1960s, I was in the most difficult degree program at UNH. I was having great difficulty with my "theory math" courses. The first one was taught by a teacher who could not have cared less if I learned the material or not; I spent one evening with him in his office, and he offered no help at all.
I never quit, but my struggles with theory-type math courses persisted, and as I entered my senior year, I worried that graduation was going to be impossible. A college athlete, I was a regular at the Field House, and one day I happened upon my complex analysis professor, Dr. James Radlow, who was playing paddleball. When he came out of the paddleball court I asked him if I could give the game a go. He obliged me, and we soon started playing on a regular basis. At first he was clobbering me, skunking me most of the time, but it wasn’t long before the tables were turned and I was skunking him. We continued playing, with him now trying to find some way to gain a victory, but the realization that he had taught me “too well” was a great joy to him. As he came to admire my tenacity and teachability, he asked for my evaluation of his course and how I was doing. I told him that most of the class was having great difficulty and that I was having plenty of that difficulty myself. From that point on he worked with me tirelessly, and I was also able to take an independent study with him on another course that I couldn’t seem to grasp. It took me an extra semester, until December 1970, but I finished my degree! I am proud of that accomplishment and grateful to the caring educator who made it possible. At the same time, I have to also thank that professor who didn’t give me the time of day, because I made sure to never make the same mistake in my own teaching career.

—Tony Limanni ’71


One of my fond memories is being a part of the ABC, Alternative Break Challenge, during spring break my junior year. A small group of us traveled to Georgia by commuter van and assisted in building a home for Habitat for Humanity while spending our nights just outside of Atlanta in a community hostel. It was a life-changing experience being able to give back, and I was able to travel with some pretty awesome people. The UNH Theatre and Dance Department also played a huge role in my life while I was a student. I was able to participate in various musical theatre productions during the years of 1995-1999, including “Little Shop of Horrors,” “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” “Fiddler on the Roof,” “Pippin” and “Into the Woods.” Such cherished memories with many other UNH theatre and dance alumni. I loved my time at UNH!

—Cathleen Delaney Harris ’99


illustration of people rowing a canoe and sinking

In spring 1978 I was on the ASCE Student Chapter Concrete Canoe Team and helped build the canoe, knowing that the next spring I would be in London for a study-abroad program and that I needed to work on a canoe before I’d be allowed to paddle. In 1980, I was ready to paddle, and we built that year’s canoe by making a cardboard form, filling it with spray insulation, then shaving it down to the right shape. (I itch just thinking about it!) We then put wire mesh over it and applied a concrete mix with glass microbeads. It was . . . not beautiful, but we painted it green and named it Sigma Max. The race was at UMaine Orono on the Kenduskeag Stream, and the wrecks had to be removed before the regular Kenduskeag Stream Race later in the day—very whitewater and cold. Tom Nickerson ’80 was in the stern, and I was in the bow. In one blaze of personal glory, we pulled ahead of the Maine canoe on a flat stretch—the bow position is supposed to be the “strength” position, and nobody has ever accused me of great arm strength, but the Maine canoe’s bow person was a fellow from my high school class, and I knew he had been voted “Most Athletic” in ROTC. Tom and I put our knees on towels over the holes that appeared until we ran out of knees, and we finally sank well ahead of the finish line. We got our boat out, and headed for the beer and hot dogs.

—Helen Caswell Watts ’80


I was a member of the UNH Law School class of 2006, which was at the time the Franklin Piece Law Center. After many years working in technology and scientific fields, I wanted to become a patent lawyer, and I chose Franklin Pierce because it was ranked in the top five for intellectual property law. I was 38 years old with a one-year-old toddler in daycare, and I lived in Georgetown, Mass., about 54 miles away from the Franklin Pierce campus. My morning class started at 8 a.m.; the earliest I could drop off my son was 7 a.m.; and if everything went well, I had exactly 60 minutes to drive to school—a trip Google maps calculates to be 58 minutes. I would get up at 5 a.m. to dress my son and pack his bag, be at the daycare’s door at 7 a.m. and yet there were still many times I was late. Attendance counted for 20 percent of my final grade, and my morning classes did not get good scores, because of my frequent lateness. At the time, I was bitterly disappointed about the large portion allotted to attendance in the final scores, but now, many years later, I have come to understand that that experience actually made me stronger. I learned with real emotions that all bad times and all bad feelings will pass. Today I have my own solo practice in patent prosecution, and I am always able to draw strength from recalling those early mornings in law school and how everything worked out just fine after all.

—Jie Tan ’06JD


illustration of a professor standing against a brick wall

Being the daughter of a UNH professor and also a townie, I was in a unique position as I attended UNH back in the late 60s and early 70s. Wanting the full experience of college, I chose to live on campus my last three years, which provided me with the full plate of social and academic endeavors. I had a blast, while at the same time worked very hard. My dad, a bow-tie-and-vest-wearing professor of sociology, could be a polarizing character, and while I found there were so many students who absolutely loved him, others did not share that love and admiration. One beautiful fall day, as I walked up the steps to the library, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw emblazoned across one wall the words, “DUMP DEWEY!” painted in red—the handiwork of a student to whom my father had given an F. Another time, when I was rushing sororities, I came face-to-face with a young woman who, upon finding out who I was, said, “Your Dewey’s daughter? I HATE him!” Needless to say, I chose another sorority. Still, I never minded hearing the criticisms, because I knew the man and I was a big fan—as were most. UNH provided a safe haven for all kinds of beliefs and attitudes and I will always look back fondly on my years there.

—Elaine Dewey O’Malley ’72 ’78G


My first memories of UNH go back to the late 1940s, when my father took me to UNH football games, idols like Bruce Mather, Bill Hubrich and the powerful football teams of those years. Perhaps the most vivid memory is freshman camp of 1954. We all arrived at the camp excited and not knowing what to expect. Two hurricanes crossed over our camp. We got off to a booming start.

—Alan C. Vincent ’58


My favorite memory of UNH was working at The New Hampshire as co-news editor from 1992–1993. Two nights a week, we were regularly there until the sun started coming up to make sure the paper got out in time. The staff at the time always had so much energy and fun! It was great to be part of a UNH tradition.

—Pamela Margaritis Dube ’93


Standing at the boards watching outdoor hockey on the new artificial ice rink. No plexiglass. Watch out for the puck! Sneaking over the fence for a midnight swim in the pool. The Mayorality campaign. Trips to “The Cat” in Dover when Durham was “dry.” The PiKA fire engine and piano burning on the last day of Winter Carnival. Jim Brown coming to town with the Syracuse lacrosse team and singlehandedly wiping out the Wildcats. The brand new, state-of-the-art Kingsbury Hall. Men’s dorms on one side of the campus and women’s on the other, and never the twain shall meet (supposedly). Groundbreaking for the MUB. Fire-watch at the fraternity when the thermometer hit 42 below zero at 4 a.m. in February 1958. Good memories! 

—Bob Cain ’59


illustration of streakers

The phenomenon of streaking commenced in the late fall/early winter of 1973. By the spring of 1974, it had evolved into a nationwide craze, the vast majority of which was happening on college campuses. The University of Georgia still boasts of 1,500 streaking participants on one given day in April 1974, and it was that same month that a group of Acacia fraternity brothers at UNH decided to get involved in this activity. Having gotten the word out to the local frats, sororities and dorms, it soon became obvious that more than we imagined or hoped for were intrigued enough to participate. The streak took place around the quad where Karl’s food truck was always a fixture. It was about 9 p.m. on a Wednesday evening. (I simply don’t remember WHY a Wednesday but can assure you it WAS a Wednesday.) The initial group of streakers totaled about 40. Sneakers, scarves, a few belts and even a couple of World War I flying leather helmets with goggles were the entire attire. After two full romps around the quad, at least an additional 20–25 students who had been observing the streaking and were vacillating on joining this daring group, did so. Now, let’s be candid here. Of course this streaking event never came close to comparing with the University of Georgia’s or those at several other large universities across the country, but it left an indelible mark on this writer and everyone else that participated in or viewed the April 1974 Karl’s quad streaking soiree. You know who you are! Lastly, if you’re thinking it, there were TWO brave FEMALES streaking that fateful evening with all that male testosterone engulfing them. Yes, I can name them. However, let’s keep that identification secret as we approach the 43rd anniversary of the evening when the University of New Hampshire joined the nationwide streaking craze. If those two brave and progressive ladies desire to tell their grandchildren, that’s up to them.

—Michael Lanza ’75


I have so many vivid memories of UNH … the carnival atmosphere of the last Mayoralties, the excitement and anxiety of MERP week—what did it mean if you weren’t selected?—the summer-long effort my fellow forestry majors and I put into finding a conk (Ganoderma applanatum, a type of shelf fungus found on the trunks of sugar maples and yellow birch trees) that would outdo the previous year’s specimen. Some of my fondest memories are of famed coach A. Barr “Whoop” Snively, for whom I worked as a student manager for the lacrosse team. Occasionally, after the completion of practice, I would look around for the ball bags and other paraphernalia I had to bring in only to discover that they had disappeared. Then, looking like a burdened Santa Claus, there was Whoop carrying them away down by the track. I would race to him and say, “That’s my job, Whoop. I’ll carry them!” He would reply in that particular guttural voice of his, “That’s okay, manager, I’ve got them.” On the bus ride home from our victory over UMass in the 1962 football Yankee Conference championship, I remember him opening the window, demonstrating for us how to celebrate, hollering, “We beat Massa-choo-setts!” to the world outside. We stopped at the Old Mill restaurant, and just prior to the meal, he unwrapped the rubber band around the old sewing-type purse he carried and asked us all what we wanted, his treat. Some time later, I was surprised to get a small Christmas card at my home in Norfolk, Va., that included the comment, “Sometimes I think the managers get more out of the sport than the athletes do.” As always, he saw everything.

—David Eastman ’65


Campus life at the University of New Hampshire from 1942 to 1946 was very different due to the influence of World War II. When I returned to UNH in the fall of 1943 as a sophomore, the campus was swarming with servicemen enrolled in the Army Specialized Training Program. Most of the soldiers had been in college for two to three years when they arrived at UNH, and they were thrilled to be back on a university campus. We girls were somewhat apprehensive about these soldiers “marching” all over our beautiful campus, but our reservations did not last long. I met my future husband, John, the first week of fall semester and we had a wonderful courtship for six months. My fondest memories are of attending the weekly dances with John. He also patiently helped me with chemistry. It was a sad day when the military college program ended in March 1944 and the servicemen were deployed for combat in Europe. For those six months the UNH campus had been brought back to life. My husband and I returned to Durham many times to visit during our 58 years of marriage and we always reminisced about those wonderful months that we shared at UNH.

—Shirley Wagner ’46


UNH was the natural choice for me, and I applied early admission. My love of science drew me to a biochemistry degree, where I was able to explore the frontier of biotechnology. My parents did not quite understand what I was studying. When I told them that I was taking a new class in “nucleic acids,” my father thought I said “nuclear gases.” They still supported me the whole way. After I graduated, I stumbled into a genetic engineering start-up called Biogen. I was the first woman they hired in the bioprocessing department. I progressed with the company as they grew from a biotechnology start-up to a Fortune 500 company! Reconnecting with UNH has been so rewarding. I have had the privilege of serving on the UNH COLSA advisory and development boards and the Pathways mentoring program, and I now serve on the UNH Foundation board. I never miss an opportunity to meet with UNH students and learn what gets them motivated in their education and careers. I just landed my dream job to be the chief operating officer of Keryx Pharmaceuticals. Thank you, UNH!

—Christine Carberry ’82


The snow always reminds me of a snowball fight I had with my good friend Leif on the lawn in front of Ham-Smith. He went to playfully hit me with a snowball and managed to get me right in the face… twice. Leif is now my husband of seven years; I think I fell in love with him that night.

—Theresa Dugan ’03


I was a music major and thus spent a good bit of my time at Ballard Hall, but present memories focus around a variety of off-campus activities with a diverse group of “kindred spirits” under the leadership of the late Dr. Clark Stevens, chairman of the department of forestry. They ranged from winter weekends at the UNH forestry camp in Passaconaway Valley to early morning cookouts at the Outing Club cabin on Mendums Pond, and one very early morning venture crawling around a meadow on hands and knees, collecting the bones of a long-deceased fox. My life at UNH was a stimulating and adventuresome combination of arts, academics and the great outdoors that surrounded us.

—Norma Krajczar ’51


I made wonderful memories, grew up, learned about the world around me, played for the UNH tennis team and forged friendships that I’m proud of to this day. I thank Johanna Finnegan Topitzer, Jill Brady and Brian Brady for their shared friendship and humor as we made our UNH journey together. Jill, Jo and I also spent semesters abroad in England and Ireland while at UNH —what fun we had exploring the world together! Thank you my friends, and thank you UNH!

—Kathleen Greland-Oliver ’90


I will never forget attending my first hockey games in pre-Snivley days…outdoor rink at night… leaning over the boards and leaning back to avoid an inadvertent check… our Zamboni, a Ford farm tractor with a brush…visiting players “warming” between periods on their team bus… smiling, but still shivering, back at my dorm… so, when is the next home game? 

—Skip Hubbard ’65


I was a member of SCOPE for three of my four years at UNH, through which I had the opportunity to be involved with bringing shows featuring Jimmy Fallon, Brand New, Dropkick Murphys, Snoop Dogg, Akon, Mike Posner, Lupe Fiasco, Guster, MGMT and Girl Talk to the UNH campus—putting on shows and creating memories for thousands of other students. I spent countless hours with fellow SCOPE members coordinating every single aspect of putting on a live performance; from selling tickets, marketing, security and production to artist and tour hospitality, we did it all. It might be safe to say that I spent just as much time in the SCOPE office as I did anywhere else in Durham—if not more! 

—Jared Dobson '10


Jim Wolfram was a former captain and pilot in the USAF and an adventurous graduate student. He often instigated adventures for John Wakefield, the biochemistry department’s technician, and for me, a fellow graduate student and also veteran of the USAF. One day an ad appeared offering to buy lamprey plasma at $200 a liter —a princely sum, since a nice apartment could be rented with all utilities for $185 a month at the time (the early 1970s). The ad explained that a Dr. Doolittle needed the plasma for his research and that the lampreys could be caught in local rivers including the Exeter River, which was easily accessible in downtown Exeter beside a small park. Early one spring morning Jim, John and I went there with lab coats, needles, syringes, anticoagulant, knives and an ice cooler with bottles for bleeding the lampreys and collecting the blood. We waded into the shallow river and caught the muscular, eel-like lampreys by hand, brought them ashore and did a quick bit of surgery. We must have caught 200 more or more lampreys over several hours of hard work. It was enough of a spectacle for the local paper to send a reporter for photographs and a quick interview. Back in the lab in the Spaulding Life Sciences Building, we recovered the plasma: 5.5 liters, or about $1,075 worth. We had to get it to Dr. Doolittle quickly, and Jim had an idea: he’d fly it to Logan Airport for shipment. (Jim was a combat pilot and flew thousands of hours in a C-123 delivering cargo throughout Vietnam at the height of the war.) We flew the university’s aero club plane to Logan, where Jim talked us out of paying landing fees by explaining that we were carrying plasma and would simply drop it off and leave. After our money arrived, Jim came up with one more adventure. The biochemistry faculty usually threw a departmental party for the graduate students but were going to skip that year for budgetary reasons. Jim asked me and John to each contribute $25 of our plasma payoff, and for $75 set up a shish kebab picnic complete with Michelob beer and genuine limeade. Jim and John canoed the liquid refreshments to the picnic site, where we put on a memorable party that one faculty member deemed a “really good picnic.”

—Frederick A. Liberatore ’74


illustration of a spider on a fire alarm

I will always remember Scorpios and the pitchers of beer that we could all afford. The place would be packed and then word would get out that the fire marshal was coming and everyone would head out the back door. And of course there was the year that there were spiders in the fire alarm system at Stoke and the alarm went off every single night! The drinking mitten that was essential for the outdoor keg parties. The friends I made and the things I learned will stay with me always.

—Lisa Snyderman ’82


The Second World War was over in 1945, but it was still winding down three years later when I matriculated to UNH. Many of my fellow entering freshmen were fresh from the front lines. The rigors of war enforced a maturing process on the social proclivities of men and women eager for the education awaiting them under the GI Bill. In other words, most had "put away childish things" and were ready to get it on. I recall widespread consternation and dismay when we were advised that freshmen men would be required to wear "beanies." BEANIES!!!! Bummer. When upperclassmen attempted to enforce the sartorial fiat, which most freshmen males deemed silly, there was a silent but emphatic strike against beanies. The stand-down succeeded, things quieted down and we in the class of ’52 went on to learn and be educated by our splendid university.

—Jack Pasqual ’52


One of my favorite memories from the early 60s: watching ice hockey outdoors and standing by the boards. No safety nets then. And having the ice slush out beneath the boards onto our feet. Frozen toes. A far cry from the magnificent ice hockey facilities enjoyed today. 

—Judy Weaver Brown ’64


In the fall of 1978, after graduating from UNH, I was hired as a part-time research assistant for the Cooperative Extension entomologist. My work took place in the classic glass greenhouse attached to the back of Nesmith Hall. The greenhouse had accumulated a lot of unwanted insects, so one day I was asked to set off a fumigation device in the closed-up greenhouse before I left for my other job. Was I surprised the next morning when I returned to learn that some or all of Nesmith Hall had been evacuated the day before! Apparently the fumes had leaked into Nesmith along the heating pipes. Alas, in 2015 when I returned to UNH to visit, I saw that my lovely old greenhouse was gone.

—Priscilla Partridge ’78


Of all the great memories I had at UNH, one of the most cherished was being in G. Harris Daggett’s humanities class and Carleton Menge’s ed psych 41 in my sophomore year, 1961. These two outstanding professors taught me to think critically, which I had never done before. The song, "To Sir, With Love," with the lyrics, "...and that’s a lot to learn" aptly applies to them.

—Gerald P. Lunderville ’63


My clearest academic memory of UNH is sitting in class with irascible, white-haired and jutting-jawed Max Maynard of the English department. The year was probably 1971, and the material was either the biographical essays of Lytton Strachey or the poetic style of the Book of Psalms. Or maybe it was Sophocles’ Antigone. It doesn’t matter—I remember snatches from each of those lectures spread over two, maybe three courses. What was important, and lasting, was the engagement of a man who loved literature and taught students what it means to give literature a close and respectful reading and to bring it into their lives. I have other strong memories of outstanding professors—Don Murray, Mark Smith, Tom Williams, John Yount and Alan Rose. But now, maybe because I’m thinking about the line between fiction and non-fiction in my own work, it is Max who comes to mind.

—Lou Ureneck ’72


A favorite memory, and probably one shared by many, is of the UNH hockey team taking to the ice at Snively to the Surfaris song “Wipe Out.” To this day, whenever I watch any hockey game, I usually think back to our Wildcats and that piece of music.

—Christopher T. Bassett ’75


I graduated in 1979, twice—in May from TSAS with an associate’s degree in civil engineering, and again in December with a B.S. in general studies. I came there in 1975 after my family had moved to Paris, where I spent my sophomore year of college. Although I was not a foreign student, I guess the university thought I was (me coming from France), as I was put in International House. I met a lot of great people there, from all over the world—Alasan, Choukri, Toufik, Marja, Abdesselam Benmansour (Ben), many others. One night, I went with the I-House crew to the MUB to see an unknown band called The Cars. $1 to get in, 25-cent drafts, free popcorn, I believe. A tall, skinny guy named Rick Ocasek was the lead singer. Boy, were they fantastic! We danced all night, and I met a gal named Julie, whom I dated on and off for my time at UNH. Imagine our surprise when, just a few weeks later, The Cars became a huge sensation nationally!

—Matt Pey ’79


After Pearl Harbor, Japanese residents on the West Coast were interned in special camps. These citizens were long-time residents, owned businesses and were well regarded in their communities. Among the groups that tried to help them was the Quakers, who sent college-aged Japanese students to colleges in the East under their auspices. At UNH, one of those students was a delightful, sweet girl named Miyuki Iwahashi. Miyuki and I took to each other and were very friendly all through our UNH years, and she became a regular visitor to my home in Boston on spring breaks. Her folks lived in California, and after the war my parents took a drive cross country to see relatives and also visited Miyuki’s parents. After graduation, Miyuki married and moved to Washington, D.C.; I married and moved to Miami. Some years later, I had the opportunity to visit a niece who was living in Kyoto and called Miyuki to tell her about my trip. It was in that way that I learned my dear sweet friend had died, but I set off for Japan with her in my heart. 

I must relate this: Our dorm—Curry, I believe —had a back entrance and a second floor balcony. One day, some of us girls decided to play a trick on those coming in the back way. We had water in bottles, which we poured down on those coming in. We didn’t expect the housemother to come in that entrance—but she did, and she had just come from the beauty parlor. Unfortunately for her and for us, we poured water on her new hairdo!

—Charlotte Myers Futerfas ’48


If you ever ate at Acorns, the restaurant at The New England Center on Strafford Avenue, you knew what an architecturally superb space it was with its multi-level floor and 30-foot windows, which began at the baseboards and seemed to soar into the tops of the trees outside. The architects had blended site—a wooded ravine—and building, so when one looked out through those massive windows, the outside came in, be it October foliage, the black and white of January snow-covered trees, or the fresh greens of spring. It was a favorite spot, the site of our class 50th reunion dinner and many other meetings, so when the announcement came that the center would close in June 2010, friends since those freshmen blue beanie days decided to have a last lunch. Two months before closing we had such a thoroughly enjoyable luncheon there we decided to do it again, this time near the end of June, when some of our snowbird classmates would be back from Florida. That day we caught up and reminisced. We talked of how courses and majors had influenced our lives, our work; talked about books being read and current events. Nothing about ailments; that wasn’t allowed, but we told funny stories about student days, about ourselves. It was that kind of a long, delightful meal. And yes, the meal. The staff had prepared a special buffet with salads, soups, hot and cold dishes and anything liquid one desired. To top it off, a jazz trio played old favorites like “Up a Lazy River” and “Paper Doll.” We hated to leave. We paid our bills but still sat and talked until we were among the few left. Finally we got up and walked out, hearing the last strains of “You’ll Never Miss the Water ’Til the Well Runs Dry.”

—Ann Merrow Burghardt ’53


When I arrived at UNH in 1966 there were curfews for women, Durham was a dry town, they were building the New England Center and there were no dorms or dining hall behind Kingsbury. During four years my classes and professors provided a great education, lines to get into hockey started by 4:30, curfews started to disappear, buildings appeared behind Kingsbury (I lived in Hubbard), Durham became wet, the MUB and library were great places to meet, there were wonderful concerts on campus (Joplin, Hendrix, the Doors, Judy Collins, etc). And of course most from my class would remember spring 1970, when Kent State happened and students went on strike. Most finals were canceled by May 8, but graduation did not take place until June and we roasted inside Snively as the day was so hot! They were years of change and growth. I look back fondly on those years, the wonderful people I met and events that happened.

—Ann Boulanger ’70


illustration of people doing their laundry and singing

I remember a group of us on several occasions in 1966 or so "borrowed" food trays from the Memorial Union Building and used them to go sliding behind the MUB after a snowstorm. Such fun! Around the same time, often when one went to do her laundry in the laundry room underneath Hitchcock Hall, it was not unusual to encounter someone with a guitar. Soon music would be heard and many other students would join in for these fun, spontaneous jam sessions in the laundry room!

—Pauline Smith ’69


The storm of ’78: I remember pretty clearly that this iconic storm dropped some three feet of snow in Durham. I believe that we only closed the university for one day—today that storm would have closed schools for a week! To celebrate the day off, we bumper hitched— or skitched—from the Lord/Jessie Doe area to downtown on the rear bumpers of passing vans and trucks. Probably not the safest event, but it was fun!

—Everett Eaton ’80


There are many stories I COULD tell, but one I like is the following: During a patent practice final exam 1988 or ’89, we were asked to write a patent claim around an invention involving something to do with wood bark (I do not recall the exact invention, perhaps using it as a “biomass to energy” fuel). Anyway, Prof. Robert Shaw sensed we were having trouble identifying the invention, so he went outside (in Concord) and gathered up a grocery sack of bark, came into the room and announced, “This is bark!” It always gives me a chuckle.

—Jeff Wendt ’89JD


I graduated in 1996, and my claim to fame is being on the UNH women’s ice hockey team—Go Blue! I remember being on campus when the first stoplight in Durham was put in at the corner of Main and “Snively.” What commotion that caused!!

—Dina Solimini Rufo ’96


The memories from UNH are endless, but a few that immediately come to mind include playing broomball at 11 p.m.—and meeting the love of my life while doing so—and becoming an RA, a position that changed my career path forever (and for the better). Now, I love every chance I get to come back to UNH. It’s always so nice coming home for an impromptu visit, for our anniversary each year and of course for Homecoming!

—Amanda Adams ’11


In 1956 or 1957, as co-chair of what was then called Dads’ Day weekend, I was called into the UNH vice president’s office to learn that the university had been chosen as the site for the first "Atoms for Peace" conference that same weekend. There were hundreds of notable attendees, but I can only recall a few key names and events. This was the first large-scale event designed to address the development and employment of the "H" bomb and the possible future of nuclear weapons in more than the three big powers. About the same time, Dads’ Day was changed to Parents’ Day, as it likely still remains.

—Ed Robert ’58


I remember fondly the Sunday nights going to the MUB Pub listening to the great sounds of DJ Rick Bean. The Pub was usually packed, and the end of the night was highlighted with Paul McCartney’s signature song, “The Long and Winding Road,” leaving all in attendance with a special closeness for the someone we were with as we made our way out through the exit doors.

—Arthur Miller ’76


When I think of winter at UNH, I recall all the Winter Carnival celebrations that began with a giant bonfire on campus. What many were not aware of, however, was the long journey the flame that lit the bonfire took. Brothers of the Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity would light a torch at Cannon Mountain in Franconia Notch, run the torch in relay style to the Capitol building in Concord and then complete the relay journey to UNH. The purpose of this run was twofold. Of course, one reason was to arrive at the bonfire lighting ceremony, in front of a crowd of students, staff and community members. This meant a very early start from up north and the challenges of running in snow and cold! More importantly, however, the torch run raised funds for the Leukemia Foundation, in honor of a fallen brother. I will always remember the soreness of those runs but also the great cause for which that run was done each year.

—Dennis J. O’Connell ’90


In 1977, the Woodsman’s team had a canoe, an old beater Grumman to use in some competition. It was temporarily stored out at a big pond past the dairy barns. As a member of the team, I could access both the canoe and the pond. I decided to take my friends on a secret adventure. It was all girlfriends, and they all got into the fun and mystery of it. All of the women put blindfolds over their own eyes so they wouldn’t know where they were going. I led them to a car and to the pond, then ferried groups of them in the canoe to a little campsite where everyone took off their blindfolds to see where they were. Everyone was delighted by the lovely little site. We built a campfire and told stories and sang songs at our own little mystery camp spot right in Durham!

—Elaine Eisenbraun ’77

illustration of people sitting around a campfire


Originally published in UNH Magazine Spring 2017 Issue

Illustrations by Gayle Kabaker