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Letter from the Editor

It's not that easy being green...

On a planetary scale, our lives are like the snap of a high-speed shutter, seizing something fluid and dynamic and transforming it into a stop-action photograph.
Here a bullet hangs lazily in mid-air a few feet away from an apple. Will the two someday collide? And what will be the outcome if they do? Scientists in that freeze-frame universe track the bullet’s imperceptible progress, calculate its mass and trajectory and predict dire consequences for the apple. Others scoff at their calculations and call them doomsayers. Most of the inhabitants of that freeze-frame world simply go on about their lives, unsure what to believe, or even why they ought to care about something so remote and academic.

That, I think, is the main reason why so many of us nod in agreement whenever someone talks about environmental responsibility, then go on with our lives and our usual little compromises—eating foods made possible by pesticides, tending our thirsty lawns, investing in companies with questionable environmental practices, driving our gas-guzzlers, and occasionally, buying an organic tomato or recycling an aluminum soda can to make up for it all.

There are, of course, many reasons for such a widespread lack of commitment. For one thing, the science, politics and economics underlying these issues are intimidatingly complex, as are the ethical dilemmas they present. For instance, whom do you choose to believe concerning the impact of global warming? And how do you weigh the real and potential harm caused by pesticides—or, to use a more timely example, bioengineered strains of corn—against their real and potential benefits in feeding a hungry world? As usual, the devil is in the details.

Another reason is that most of the “green” options available to us as consumers require some real sacrifice—either financial or otherwise—while offering a pay-off that feels largely symbolic. Giving up an SUV means giving up a certain element of your lifestyle in exchange for feeling like part of the solution to a problem that remains largely unsolved. For that matter, eating organic in order to preserve the environment has always sounded to me like that old-fashioned maternal admonition to clean your plate because of starving children. The connection is, at best, conceptual.

The biggest problem with sustainability as a compelling ethos, however, is that it requires thinking beyond our freeze-frame world. Breaking out of environmental complacency takes a deeper sense of time, a stronger sense of generational responsibility, than most of us are capable of mustering for more than a few moments at a stretch. That isn’t an indictment of humankind—it’s a confession from someone who considers himself to be, in most respects, a fairly typical and decent human being.

So how do we go about “living green,” as opposed to greenwashing our consciences with an occasional organic artichoke? This issue of Pomona College Magazine is dedicated to those who dare to explore that question. For my part, I agree with Kermit the Frog: It’s not that easy being green...

—Mark Wood

Letters to the Editor

Women in Prison
I have had the winter 2002 issue of PCM sitting on my desk for a shamefully long time, so my apologies if it is already ancient history.

I wanted to respond to the article about Rena Fraden. I thoroughly enjoyed the one class I had with her (American Lit.) and still harbor fond memories of her teaching style and the books I read for her class. Since English was well away from my area of concentration, however, I find it rather ironic that my path has crossed with Professor Fraden’s yet again.

I was fascinated to read about her work on the role of personal narrative with female prisoners. My main area of work is in prison policy research, and more recently this has concentrated on women in custody. This has less to do with narrative as an art form than with one-to-one interviews, but the willingness of the women to open up and the extraordinary experiences in their lives never fail to amaze me. I have seen some work with plays, poetry, etc., being used as a form of therapy and as a means of increasing understanding between groups of women, though most of this work seems to be done in the U.S. and Canada.

One issue we have to deal with here that is less common in the States is the high proportion of foreign national women imprisoned as drug couriers or “mules.” About a third of the female prison population in England is made up of women from the African continent who have been paid to smuggle drugs into the U.K., usually unaware of the seriousness of the consequences if caught. Their experience of imprisonment is often quite different from that of the rest of the population in custody.

P.S. Amongst the (many) things that stuck with me from Professor Fraden’s class was her admiration of Jonathan Edwards’ vivid descriptions, i.e., “returning like a dog to its vomit.” With all due respect to Jonathan Edwards, this phrase actually comes from Proverbs 26:11.

—Nancy (Loucks) Kenny ’89
Lanark, Scotland

Semper Ubi Sub Ubi
One of this year’s reunion classes had a banner consisting of a pair of boxer shorts and the motto Semper ubi sub ubi (“Always wear underwear”). Some class members were wearing boxer shorts over their trousers. Can you tell us more about this interesting phenomenon?

—Lawrence Crumb ’58
Eugene, OR

Editor’s Note: The class you have in mind is the Class of ’83. According to David Mohrig ’83, who was president of that senior class, when time came for the selection of a class motto, only one or two suggestions were put forward. The motto “Semper ubi sub ubi” was suggested by John Spokes ’83 and quickly gained a small but passionate group of supporters, winning overwhelmingly when the matter was put to a vote. “I think John suggested it as an interesting play on words in Latin,” Mohrig says. “But it was also a playful response to some of the older mottos, which we thought were too somber. With time, it’s become a lot of fun, and even those classmates who found it silly at best, and immature at worst, now kind of like it. It’s been an interesting rallying point for the class, and it’s allowed us to stand apart from the other classes.”

—MW

About Turrell
Thank you for your fine article on Jim Turrell [in the Winter 2002 PCM] . The writing was elegant and relevant, and the photographs and layout were classy. I am genuinely honored to be affiliated with Jim. You have added a great contribution to the body of Turrell literature. It was substantive and engaging and has been shelved in the Griffith Observatory library with our other publications about him.

—Dr. E. C. Krupp ’66
Los Angeles, CA

Pomona’s Greatest Hits
Thank you so very much for the copy of PCM and the CD Pomona’s Greatest Hits. I am absolutely thrilled by both. Be assured that I will enjoy both for a long time. Every piece on the CD is just marvelous.

The design and content of your magazine is exceptional, in my considered view. The cover photograph is arresting, touching and extremely well done. The comments in the article, Pomona’s Greatest Hits, echo fully my own views about college songs and my passion for collecting them. The quotation by Don Meredith is certainly apt.

The CD is also exceptional. At this point I am so taken with Shadowplay, Again and Again, and Quartet for Viola, Cello and Digital Processor. But, I really like it all.
Until his death Professor Hewitt Pantaleoni at our College was an expert on the gamelan. You must be complimented on an exceptional job with these items—they are clearly first-rate.

I first learned of Torchbearers through a 33 1/3 record entitled Songs Our Alma Mater Taught Us by the Rutgers University Glee Club. The record is circa 1953 and was produced by General Electric during the year when that company was sponsoring a television series called The College Bowl. The version of Torchbearers by the Pomona College Glee Club on your CD is wonderful. I shall listen to it again and again. I am so pleased to have the resource information about the song. At present I am collaborating on an article with William Studwell the author of several books on college fight songs. If and when it is published I shall send you a copy.

—James Mullen
Professor of Art and Dean of Humanities and Fine Arts, Emeritus
State University of NY at Oneonta

Presidents
As I approach the age of 80, my prevailing emotion is complacency. I don’t get excited about athletic contests or political controversy. But I was excited and intensely interested to read the current issue of PCM.

The interviews with the outgoing and incoming presidents were extraordinary reports on what current liberal arts education is all about. I was very happy to update and expand my thoughts on this very important subject.

The Pomona College Magazine is a great one—the most eagerly read of all those I receive.

—Robert S. Broyles ’50
Carlsbad, CA

In Days of Old Pomona
In my freshman year, 1932–33, there still were tales of the time someone, or ones, persuaded a cow up the stairs of old Holmes Hall—where they left her, knowing that cows do not like to go down.

There was the time someone, or ones, managed to put flour packs in the vent system above the platform front stage in Holmes Auditorium, and—speaker on stage, podium arranged—someone turned on the fan, blowing flour down on the speaker and others.
There was the now forgotten Plug Ugly—surely a mentor or two of the Class of ’34 can speak of that from personal experience.

There were the olden days when permission to date a certain girl needed to be obtained from the dean. All college students lived in Sumner Hall, including Dean Berry and others. The dean told one young man—later a prominent MD from whom I learned the tale—that the girls requested had been out too often, so the answer was “No.” The young men went to the attic, spread out a blanket of asbestos on which they built a small fire – rushed down calling “Fire!” All residents evacuated the building, the men grabbed the desired ladies, and off they went.

In 1932–33 while I lived with Miss Grace Ella Berry, professor of physics and mathematics and former dean, she was much more lenient:

“Where will you go?”
“The Pasadena Playhouse.”
“The play will last probably three hours; you will want refreshments later. Pasadena is at least an hour’s drive, so bring her to the dormitory by 2 o’clock.”
Alternatively: “She has been out too often this week—try another time.”

Dean Gibson did suggest to Miss Berry—only once—that since I lived with her, I should live by Harwood rules, but was gently reminded that Miss Berry had been dean before her. I lived without “rules” but with my own judgment.

P.S. School was fun—old age is more fun. I spend my days with my foot in my mouth—and blame it all on age.

—Millie Stewart Miles ’37
Portland, OR

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