This period marks the time when high school seniors receive the outcomes of their college admission applications. The process can be increasingly challenging and emotionally taxing. However, based on my observations, individuals generally find themselves in the ideal academic environment. As they anticipate the forthcoming college experience, they ponder what lies ahead on their educational journey.
I would like to recount a personal narrative, which may not be representative of the norm, but could potentially entertain and inspire a young individual navigating through rough patches in their academic pursuits.
Dartmouth 1980
Reflections for the Reunion Book
The inception of my journey can be traced back to a vibrant green 1973 Cadillac. It was the autumn of 1976 when I vividly recall bidding farewell to my parents as they departed in the aforementioned vehicle, en route to Plattsburgh, New York. I stood alone on the sidewalk near the [Hopkins Center], uncertain of my next steps. While my brother had graduated from Dartmouth (Class of ’71) and I had visited the campus on numerous occasions, beyond a few acquaintances from my [First-Year] Trip, I found myself in solitude. Nonetheless, I was resolute in my ambition to excel as a first-rate engineer during my time at Dartmouth. This conviction led me to meet my new roommates in a “triple” accommodation on the top level of Russell Sage Hall.
During the initial quarter of my freshman year, I encountered a series of setbacks. In a single week, I received news of my failing grade in Math 5 (scoring 54 on a test that Professor Bogart deemed “too simplistic” given the class median of 92!); my performance in French 2 (why was I placed in 2 instead of 1?) plummeted from a B to a D+; and Professor Epperson singled me out in our small Freshman Seminar English class as the individual “most likely to be disappointed” with the grade on our initial writing assignment. It felt like an academic trifecta of sorts. To add to the ordeal, I discovered that the Dean of Freshmen was obligated to notify my parents regarding the failing Math grade. All this unfolded within the span of a few days, culminating on a Wednesday!
That evening at Thayer [the campus dining hall], I found myself in the company of a captivating classmate with whom I shared my tale of woe. Concluding with a remark about the heightened challenges of college compared to high school, she innocently and genuinely responded, “Really? I thought it was much harder at Exeter.” At that moment, the week seemed utterly dismal.
Despite the initial setbacks, I managed to reverse the tide before the quarter’s conclusion. It dawned on me that perhaps the world would be better off (and potentially safer) if I veered away from my aspirations of becoming an engineer. Consequently, I transitioned to a Government major, with a firm resolve not to follow the familial trajectory into a legal profession.
At various junctures, I adamantly declared certain feats I would never undertake in my lifetime. These included: pursuing law school; engaging in corporate law practice in New York City; commuting via train from the suburbs; residing in Greenwich, CT; driving a Suburban; and particularly, never succumbing to the allure of working for an investment bank. Yet, there is a common adage that states, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.” Remarkably, I found myself embracing each of these endeavors that I once deemed improbable. Consequently, I have grown averse to using the term “never.”
Upon the recommendation/insistence of a hometown educator, I applied (sight-unseen) and gained admission to Vanderbilt Law School in Nashville, TN. This decision proved to be pivotal, not only for the exceptional graduate education I received but also for the fortuitous encounter with my wife, Helen, at Vanderbilt. It struck me as peculiar that I had to journey to Tennessee to meet an individual from (Greenwich) Connecticut. Subsequently, I joined Davis Polk & Wardwell in New York as an associate attorney, dedicating my days, nights, and weekends to catering to the needs of prominent corporations during the bustling era of the late 1980s. Helen and I exchanged vows in Greenwich in the summer of 1985, and in 1987, just prior to the market crash, we acquired a residence in Darien, CT. Our daughters, Whitney and Caroline, and son John, were born during our tenure in Darien. Meanwhile, Helen made significant strides in her marketing career, ultimately assuming the role of president and co-owner of Reach Marketing, Inc. in Westport, CT. In 1992, I transitioned from legal practice to join JP Morgan’s private banking division. While my focus at Davis Polk had not been in trust and estate matters, I eventually spearheaded Morgan’s global personal trust and estate administration business. Subsequently, in 2000, I was recruited by Goldman, Sachs & Co. to establish a personal trust division from scratch.
Amidst these endeavors, Helen and I navigated the challenges of constructing a residence in Greenwich, where we have resided since 1996. Our abode is situated in close proximity to Helen’s childhood home, where her parents continue to dwell. My mother remains in Plattsburgh (my father passed away in 1988), and each summer, we embark on a journey in our dependable GMC Yukon (equivalent to a Suburban) to visit her in the North Country. Witnessing our children foster close relationships with their grandparents has been immensely gratifying. Helen and I have been blessed to embark on several remarkable excursions abroad with her parents and siblings.
As for the 1973 Cadillac? Regrettably, the green vehicle is no longer in our possession. However, this past April, I acquired (much to Helen’s chagrin) a white Eldorado convertible from the same year. Measuring 19 feet in length, it barely fits in our garage, not to mention its less-than-ideal gas mileage. Despite the imperfections, it evokes fond memories. Although refurbishing the vehicle to its former glory or repainting it green may not be feasible before our reunion, I eagerly anticipate reuniting with my family to commemorate and revel in the company of the exceptional Class of 1980. Epilogue
The essay was penned 19 years ago. The white Eldorado convertible has since departed, succumbing to a massive tree during an unexpected storm in 2009. Following my tenure at Goldman, I oversaw Citigroup’s global trust business, a rewarding experience. Subsequently, I ventured into entrepreneurship, establishing a wealth management enterprise with acquaintances. I later directed a regional wealth management team at BNY Mellon and led the private banking division at Webster Bank. In 2017, I founded a consultancy catering to individuals and family offices, specializing in trust and estates matters (a concept that may elude the younger generation) and offering expertise in fiduciary dispute resolution. Our children have embarked on their respective careers, having found partners to embark on life’s journey. Helen and I continue to reside in the home we constructed, accompanied by three delightful Australian Shepherd dogs. Life is indeed fulfilling.
For the young individuals on the brink of commencing their college odyssey in the fall, I impart this advice: embrace the forthcoming experiences with fervor. Life is an unfolding adventure. Exercise caution in imposing unnecessary constraints or prerequisites on your future. Stay receptive to the myriad possibilities and opportunities that life may unveil. Do not be disheartened by the obstacles that will inevitably surface—often, they serve as subtle nudges and indications of pathways that may lead to outcomes surpassing your wildest imagination.
An age-old adage asserts that “truth is stranger than fiction.” I am particularly fond of Mark Twain’s rendition: “Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t.” Reflect on this notion for a moment. How exhilarating is the prospect that life’s horizons extend beyond our visible, foreseeable, or imaginable realm? It signifies that our life’s trajectory is not confined to our perceived limitations. There is absolutely no way I could have envisioned, let alone predicted, the course my life would take. Had I rigidly adhered to the “nevers” I articulated earlier, my life would have unfolded quite differently, presumably devoid of the happiness and fulfillment that I have been privileged to experience. As I articulate these thoughts, I can almost hear God’s amused chuckle!
And as for the Cadillac? Rest assured, I could not overlook the absence left by its predecessor. Four years ago, I acquired (once again, much to Helen’s dismay) a white 1970 Eldorado coupe. Slightly shorter than the 1973 convertible, it still barely fits in our garage. Its allure shines during wedding ceremonies. I hold a deep affection for it.