Wahoowa!

Wahoowa, Wahoowa, Uni-V-Virginia... only, we're at Dartmouth now, right?

Hanoverites we may be for now, but that didn't stop us from holding UVA night last night, right here in the heart of Dartmouth territory.

But why Wahoowa so far north? It began with a question of demographics. Or rather, an interesting statistical fact. For one: among the Tuck '10s there are more Virginia alums than any other undergraduate institute aside from Dartmouth itself. Among the Tuck '11s (Dan's class,) Virginia ranks fourth. All told there are 15+ Virginia alums up here right now.

I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised. After all, there is something very UVA-ish about Dartmouth. Maybe it's their spacious green, second only to the lawn in my opinion. Maybe it's Main Street, which is every bit as Cornerish as the Corner with its coffee shops and burrito barns, clothing co-ops and student bookstores. Or maybe it's a personality thing.

Some Things I have Learned About Dartmouth Students That Remind Me of UVA Students:

1. They are VERY smart, BUT

1a. They are also work hard, play hard.

2. They know how to drink.

2a. They like drinking games.

3. They like games, in general. They love sports. Division 1 sports, club sports, IM sports. 70% of the student body plays something. (and the joggers rival the Cville joggers for their insanity and love of hills.)

4. They have crazy school spirit. (Seriously, Go Big Green?)

Sound like another school we know?

Some Similarities Between Hanover and Charlottesville.

1. One "main" street right next to campus/grounds.

2. A strong presence of local writers (Grisham for Cville, Piccoult, Bryson, and of course J.D. Salinger for Hanover.)

3. A strong presence of local artisans.

4. A lack of chain restaurants (not including the Rt 29 strip mall part of Cville, of course.)

5. Close proximity to the great outdoors. (land bridge, etc, for Cville.... all of New Hampshire for Hanover.)

You get the idea.

One thing we heard again and again last night was that Dartmouth FELT a little bit like UVA. Not quite the same, not quite as perfect for us, but a close second. And so it seems Hanover is, in many ways, a baby Charlottesville. A baby, icy Charlottesville. Which is why it makes sense that so many former Virginias would find their way here.

Even so, even if Hanover is a close second, it was nice to reminisce, nice to hear Cville referred to as "the motherland" in reverential tones. Our fellow UVAers range from members of the Class of 2000 to alums as recently graduated as '05. They've come here from Richmond and Boston and New York and D.C.

And perhaps most amazingly, though we spent dinner comparing dorms and sororities, comm school, ed school, arts & sciences, we knew no one. No one did. And so here we are, 5 years out, and still making friends through UVA, even as Dan attends Tuck in the heart of New England, about as far from bow ties and seersucker as you can imagine.

Because after all, Dartmouth isn't exactly like UVA.

Of course it wasn't a perfect evening....

Q: Kerry, were you in a sorority?

Kerry: No, I was on the Arts and Sciences Council.

Wahoowa?

An Evening with the Tuck "Partners"

"Partners" is the term given to the spouses, fiance/fiancees, boyfriends/girlfriends, and life partners of Tuck students. I realize the term is "PC" and that we live in an age of political correctness, but even so, I feel a bit odd when someone asks me who my "partner" is.

Then again, I should be glad we're not referred to as the "Tuck Wives Club" or the "Housewives of Hanover." I'm guessing Simon and Bob and Andrew and Colin would really hate that.

Dinner with the Tuck Partners will always be an interesting phenomena. For starters, we are people who have NOTHING in common, per se, except that our "partners" have all chosen to attend business school at Tuck. I mean at least "they" have that common ground to start from. Our "common ground" is tenuous at best... nebulous in general... and extraneous at worst.

By and large we're a self-selecting, self-segregating bunch, which I suppose is only to be expected. For starters, there are the obvious divisions: the male partners (few in number, but still a presence... and more on them later,) and then there are the mothers (more in number... there is after all something in the water here.) The mothers are understandably in a different place than the rest of us and I'm not knocking that. Children changes everything. You simply CANNOT join a literary and drinking society (more on that later) if you're expecting or have one or two rug-rats to manage. These are the truths of parenthood, the facts of life. I totally get that.

Then there are the rest of us. I have to say, one of my biggest fears in relocating to New Hampshire so that Dan, my husband, can attend graduate school is that I wouldn't fit in. I suppose I've been picturing the Stepford Wives, or cliques with names like the "Texas Wives Club" or the "Polygamists." Or something like that.

So it's been a relief to find that my fears are shared by others and moreover to find that there are others who share my love of sarcasm and mockery for any and all "Stepford"-ish activities. And this is how I came to spend the Tuck Partner Dinner with the boys.

I walked over to the LLC with Hillary and we met Erika coming in the door. The event was crowded - I have to say, I was impressed - though three partners I knew moderately well were not in attendance many others I did not know were there in full force. (Side note, this hit home for me about how anti-social I am really. Go figure, right?)

Well, the food was good and everyone was nice, but needless to say when all was said and done - that is, when my plate was filled with mac& cheese - I found myself not seated at a table in the Executive Dining Room of the LLC but in the lobby, cross-legged on the floor at the coffee table with Hillary, Erika, and the boys.

As I said before, the boys were somewhat self-segregating. I don't blame them. I just want in. They seem much more low key about... everything. Well, maybe weren't in the main room, at the official dinner, but we had a fabulous meal. We talked about Colin and Andrew's laundry service (their new scheme that is going to revamp drycleaning at Dartmouth,) and Colin's and my forthcoming "literary and drinking society" because neither of us can stand the thought of participating in a bookclub that reads "Housewives Eating Bonbons" as it's first fall pick. Amazingly, our society, which we have dubbed the "Barry Harris" society (inside joke) has met with sincere interest. Apparently the concept of a low-key, laid-back club that reads quality literature (and drinks quality wine, cocktails, etc,) is a novelty.

Actually, I think the real novelty is that we've found a group of people who aren't the stereotypical b-school "partners" and we want some sort of club to formalize the connection. Plus, quality literature? Good drinks? How can we go wrong??? The fact is we can't, not with Erika and Hillary and Colin, etc.

And so, that is how I spent the entire Partners Dinner in the lobby of the LLC, hanging out with some of my favorite partners... that is to say favorite people I have met at Tuck thus far.

"Fair" Play

Yesterday, Dan and I ventured out into greater New England for the inaugural outing of the Upper Valley Appreciation Club. The UVAC's first event boasted a bit of everything, from "Cool Old Things" to smoked turkey legs, prize-winning zucchinis, prize-winning cattle, carnival rides, and crisp apple crisp. And pig racing. Lots of pig racing.

Where could one find such varied wonders? At the Tunbridge World's Fair in Tunbridge, Vermont.

We couldn't have asked for better a day. We'd left the house, layered as usual, in preparation for an afternoon outdoors in almost-fall Vermont. But we quickly stripped off our jackets and sweaters. The air was cool, maybe, but the sun was very bright and sky perfectly blue.

Hanover is situated on the Connecticut River,

which itself provides the border between New Hampshire and Vermont. I have even jogged across state lines (which is much less impressive than it sounds as Vermont is less than a mile away.) Our drive to Tunbridge took just over a half hour, but it took us through some beautiful land. Highways in New England simply aren't like ordinary highways. They wind through green mountains, slope down valleys. In a few weeks the view will be even more impressive, the greens brightened by reds and golds as the leaves turn.

We drove with Erika and Jamie, two of our new New England friends. Most recently from Boston, Jamie is a Tuck first year and Erika a Hanover Town lawyer. Erika is our resident expert (born and raised in Lebanon, NH) and a founding member of the UVAC. (founding member, genius inventor, mastermind...)

At first glance the Tunbridge Fair is what you'd expect of a county fair, tough perhaps more authentically so. The locals are there with their prize poultry and vegetables, selling maple creamees and apple crisp. The stall selling backhoes operates in conjunction with AT&T wireless. For all your farming and phoning needs. There are carnival rides and fried dough and a magician called "Ed" with pointy, elvish shoes.

Erika found him creepy, though the children apparently did not.

The "main" event, from our perspective, was the pig racing, of course. This was my first pig racing, which is probably no surprise. We arrived only 15 minutes early, having wandered to apple crisp stall at the far end of the fair, and were shocked to find that the pig racing venue was packed. Apparently, pig racing is a big draw and not just for us. We paid a dollar each to bet on a "pig." I picked "Shakin' Bacon"; Dan chose "Hamma Montana." Erika and Jamie were set "Tyrone the Terrible," a pot-bellied pig racer.

The event was hosted by a pig racing veteran - indeed, he claimed this was his 20th year of racing. There were three heats and he commentated them as one would a horse race. Sadly, Shakin' Bacon and Hamma Montana lost in heats 1 and 2. This left only Tyrone in heat 3. For those of you who have never seen a pot-bellied pig race, well...

Heats 1 and 2 proceed about as expected. The pigs were excited, lured by the promise of Oreo cookies, of all things. We had high expectations for Heat 3, the pot-bellied pig race. The gate opened, the racers took their marks, the bugle sounded...

...and the pigs didn't move.

Despite our master of ceremony's enthusiastic commentating, this race took approximately ten times as long as the others. The pot-bellies were simply more interested in sitting, resting, sniffing, and... so forth. And sadly, by the time the first pig was coaxed across the finish line, Tyrone the Terrible had not yet turned the first quarter.

Though we were 0/3 on my first pig racing, we were treated to complimentary "Pro-Pork" bumper stickers. So our day at the "races" wasn't a total loss.

And of course, we then lined up to slide down the giant slide while seated on old potato sacks. There's nothing like a fair to bring out the kid in you... or your b-school buddies and their partners.

My hero, the burglar

Okay, both are Dan. But seriously, he just broke into our apartment using my George Mason student ID.

We'd been to dinner at the Canoe Club, one of Hanover's nicest. Imagine low lighting, live music - think piano/bass not acoustic guitar - a fab wine list and an impressive beer selection. I dined on butternut squash bisque and pasta primavera, Dan had mussels and the steak. We paid the check, strolled home and... no keys.

I've been locked out loads of times, but I generally depend on Dan to be less flighty. Still, we don't panic, though it is Saturday night, post 8pm and neither of us has the number of our property manager. Instead, Dan determines quite rationally that we should break in. It was either the credit card or climbing the balcony (to break through the screen door.) I am very glad method #1 worked as I can't imagine Dan - anyone - scaling our balcony.

Still, I'm beyond impressed.

And, as an afterthought, slightly concerned about our general safety.

Upper Valley Appreciation

Clearly Dan and I need to work on our blog-updating. Of course, things have been busy. That being said, I think things will continue to be busy.

We knew Fall A/Fall B would be the worst and so far, they are. Dan's first term - Fall A - is only 4 weeks in length, but the professors have crammed 6+ weeks into that time. On the plus side, Dan's already to midterm. On the downside, midTERMS.

Of course, when he's not busy with schoolwork they've continued to inundate him/us with social obligations. The bulk of these are not my cup of tea. Case in point: Saturday I am required to participate in a scavenger hunt while dressed in costume. (Our team theme is "pajamas" which I realize on the scale of embarrassing to awful is merely embarrassing as opposed to awful, but I am concerned by how costume parties seem to be "the thing" at Tuck... and across Dartmouth.)

Embarrassing scavenger hunts aside, I think we are starting to settle in. We are now official New Hampshire residents. Our shiny new Nissan Rogue has "Live Free or Die" plates (see Dan's entry on mottos for a visual) and our drivers' licenses are being reissued. I can now safely navigate to the grocery store, the local Friendly's, and back - though I have to say I am loving how little we drive. The undergraduates are back and Hanover is bustling. Or as bustling as a college town with only 4000 college students can be. The air is crisp and the water clear, the mountains very green. But fall is coming. And then winter.

Other recent events include the Tuck Club Fair. Tuck clubs are open to students as well as partners and Dan and I went hoping to find an activity we could really become involved with. The thing is, the "Executive Visitation Club" really isn't for me. Nor is the Tuck Partner's book club, which seems to pull exclusively from Oprah. Imagine a movie with a book club in it and unless that movie is a quirky indy-film that defies expectation and cliche, you know what I mean.

Colin - one of the few male partners who has trekked up to Hanover (with his lovely fiancee, Anne, a first year student) and I have proposed a "literary drinking society" to replace the aforementioned book club. Until that happens, Erika, Harvard law alum turned small town lawyer (and wife to Jamie, another first year) has devised a plan for a completely brilliant new organization.

She calls it the "Upper Valley Appreciation" Club. The UVAC's endeavor is to showcase the things we "should do" while living in New Hampshire. As such, we will be attending a pig fair on Sunday. And in a few weeks... lawnmower racing. Future activities involve Ben and Jerry's (the factory, of course,) haunted haystacks, Harpoon Brewery tours, etc etc.

One of the main attractions to moving up here for b-school was the chance to experience something new. And, let's just say no past experience of mine involves souped up lawnmowers, going for gold. So I am happy to say that we are now officially foraying into "New England Culture" and starting to appreciate this place, the Upper Valley.