S&B Magazine

Magazine&&&&TheThe

April 24, 2009 Volume 1, Issue 1|

from the editor’s deskWe at the S&B are excited to present the fi rst iteration of the S&B Magazine. We

undertook this project with the hopes to explore diff erent journalistic styles, which allow for more in-depth coverage and creativity in presentation.

Th e feature story explores changes in the offi ce of Student Aff airs from the perspective of “professionalization.” Veteran reporter Jeff Raderstong ’09 delves into the swath of changes that have accompanied the arrivals of Vice President of Student Aff airs Houston Dougharty and Dean of Students Travis Greene. Administrators have touted the reforms as lending greater effi ciency and cogency to offi ce decisions. But despite administrative reassurances, the moves have piqued student anxieties that Grinnell’s unique culture might be lost along the way.

Complimenting the professionalization article, we asked a collection of community members to defi ne how they view self-governance. Th is inaugurates a section called thoughts, in which community members discuss their views on salient topics—anything from “liberal arts” to the Midwest to social justice.

Gifted photographer Lawrence Sumulong ’10 presents a glimpse at his project documenting the Tai Dam diaspora community in Des Moines, focusing on the aging veteran population who fought with the French Foreign Legion and then the American military in Vietnam. His photography presents an intimate portrait of a stateless people forced to carry their lives in their suitcases.

In alighter note, Kat York ’09 and your editor investigate the often-whimsical culture of e-mail at Grinnell. Tom Moore, Mathematics and Statistics, comments on the memoir of Grinnell Alum James Norman Hall 1910, examining the ideas, which shaped Hall’s worldview. And in an escape from non-fi ction, author Nora Frazin ’10 presents “A Beauty,” a story about a fi nicky music teacher and the “beauty” in her attic.

With enthusiasm, we present to you the S&B Magazine.Enjoy!

Ari AnisfeldEditor

2 | April 24, 2009

4............ the pursuit of the “Bird in the Bush”

32..........thoughts on self-governance

36........ a beauty

contents10.......... the uneasy transition: professionalization in student affairs

14............. faces of the waters

6.......... reply all

6 32

The S&B Magazine | 3

10

contributors

graphics

photographers

editors

Mike KleineKat York

Aaron BarkerBen BrewerCait De Mott GradyMichelle FournierPaul KramerLawrence Sumulong

Ari AnisfeldNora FrazinAmanda GoteraTravis GreeneTom MooreJeff RaderstrongLawrence SumulongCharlie WhiteKat York

Editor.............................................Ari AnisfeldPhoto Editor.................................Ben BrewerAssociate Editor.........................Pat CaldwellGraphic Editor............................Mike KleineAssociate Editor.........................David LoganCopy Editor................Stephanie NordstromDesign Editor.......................Margie Scribner

Magazine&TheThe

Volume 1, Issue 1

4 | April 24, 2009

The S&B Magazine welcomes story ideas from students, faculty and other members of the town and college community. If there is any story that should be covered, please email [email protected].

Send letters to the editor via email at [email protected] or mail them to Box 5886. The author’s name must be included, but letters can be published anonymously in certain occasions upon request. Letters may be printed at the discretion of the editor in the next issue of The S&B Magazine. The S&B reserves the right to edit any and all submissions.

The opinions expressed in letters to the editor, opinion columns and advertising do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the S&B, SPARC or Grinnell College.

Advertising inquiries should be directed to the business manager, Katie McMullen, who can be reached at [email protected] or by mail at Box 5886, Grinnell College, Grin-nell, IA 50112.

As many seniors do, Hall worried about his future as graduation approached. One spring evening, after speaking at a literary society meeting, he went outside to loll on the grass to cool off . He overheard two of his professors, Stoops and Peck, in conversation that got around to him.

“He’s another example of the exasperating type of student. Th ey seem to have ability in the abstract,” Professor Stoops said of Hall. “You hope it will crystallize so that you can see what it

is composed of, but it remains in solution.” Th e professors then turned to the future of liberal arts colleges. Peck was pessimistic, but the optimistic Stoops said, “liberal arts colleges will never outlive the need for them, provided that they remain true to their long-range purpose. And that is to teach young men and women that the bird in the bush is worth two in the hand.”

How would you react to overhearing a professor of yours call you an under-achiever? Bart Simpson notwithstanding, many of us might take it poorly, but Hall wrote, “I was encouraged rather than disheartened to be classed with students having ability in the abstract.” Moreover, Stoops’ twist on this familiar saying—with its view that colleges like Grinnell should encourage students to pursue their passions despite risks—appealed to Hall’s self-described romantic nature. He put it this way: “I had Professor Stoops to thank for giving a name to the vocation I hoped to follow: Pursuit of the Bird in the Bush. Th e only trouble was I couldn’t earn a living by it.”

How wrong he was. Hall’s life became a series of Forrest-Gump-like adventures—social worker for foster children in Boston, WWI machine gunner for the British and then fi ghter pilot with France’s Lafayette Flying Corps. From these, he went on to collaborate with journalist Charles Nordhoff —fi rst to write a history of the Lafayette Flying Corps and then to write articles on the South Seas for Harper’s—leading to a lifelong friendship both with Nordhoff and with Tahiti, Hall’s ‘island home.’

We might draw two lessons from this overheard conversation in Hall’s senior year: First is that a faculty assessment can make a strong impression on a student. I’ve experienced that myself as a student, but have always been daunted by it in my role on the faculty. Second is that those of you seniors “taking some time off ” next year should stay alert. Hall took some time off , pursued that “bird in the bush” and never looked back.

James Norman Hall, class of 1910, is one of Grinnell College’s most notable alumni, best known for the novel “Mutiny on the Bounty.” Two years ago, knowing nothing about Hall, I was encouraged to begin with his memoir “My Island Home.” The book spoke to me as faculty, but would also speak, I think, to students. As Hall prepared for graduation, a chance bit of eavesdropping helped him define his often varied life work.

Tom MooreProfessor of Mathematics

Artwork by Kat York

The pursuit of the “Bird in the Bush”


As the treasurer of Grinnell College in a pre-computer world, Waldo Walker, Biology, had to contend with something that one doesn’t hear about a whole lot anymore—a ledger, a book used to keep records of business transactions. Walker would spend hours poring over the large book with an accounting calculator on his desk and, most likely, ink stains on his cuff s. Th en, in the early 1980s,

Apple CEO Steve Jobs, who was a trustee of the College at the time, gave Walker something that would irrevocably alter the way that he did work—an E2 computer. “Th e fi rst thing I did was play pinball,” Walker recalled with a smile.

Walker was part of a growing trend. Grinnell College became a computing school in the mid-1970s and by the mid-1980s the Internet started to take off and e-mail became a more common communicative tool. Walker, who served as Executive Vice President and Dean of the College at this time, played an important role in encouraging computer and e-mail use on campus.

In his administrative role, Walker applied for and received a grant to purchase 60 computers for faculty use. In spite of the fact that the computers were placed in the faculty member’s offi ces, “they wouldn’t touch them,” Walker said. Th e College ended up having to pay professors to take courses in computer use one summer so that the school’s investment would not go to waste. George Drake ’56, History, who was president at the time, resisted using a computer for the fi rst two years of his term. Students, on the other hand, took to the new technology much more quickly and without prompting. Aware of the socializing power of computers, “students started e-mailing immediately after we became a

computing school,” Walker said.Since then, e-mail use has become an everyday necessity. According

to Michael Pifer, Network Specialist of Information Technology Services, in 2007, alone there were 7.5 million clean (non-spam) e-mails sent to Grinnell accounts. In 2009 there have been an average of 21,554 incoming e-mails to Grinnell accounts per day. Th is translates to roughly seven e-mails per College e-mail address, a fi gure that is defl ated by inactive accounts.

Clearly, the e-mail has become a major method for intra-campus communication. To some, e-mail off ers a way to make friends with people while avoiding potentially awkward pre-friendship conversations. An e-mail can be carefully crafted or casual and brief. While some consider them impersonal, e-mails off er effi ciency and security. Walker noted that there is no “e-mail tag”—once you send an e-mail, you can be fairly certain that it has reached its intended recipient. Phil Sletten ’11 lauded the utility of e-mails, highlighting their effi ciency. “Th e costs are certainly outweighed by the benefi ts,” he concluded.

Steve Briscoe, Director of Security, echoed Sletten’s sentiments. E-mail provides a swift and effi cient method to reach the campus community Th e only downside of e-mailing, he said, is that it can take a lot of time to sort through the e-mails and distinguish junk mail from important e-mails. Another downside: “speed is dangerous—sometimes you say things and regret it,” he said. For Briscoe, e-mail fl ubs are particularly dangerous, because his all-campus correspondences have been collected on the blog stevenbriscoesavedmylife.blogspot.com.

Th e same “dangers” are present in private correspondences. One of this article’s authors signed off an e-mail asking for a job at a Canadian berry farm, “Th ank you for your time and money.” She was not off ered an interview.

reply alKat York

6 | April 24, 2009

logging inTh ere are, of course, more factors involved in communicating via

e-mail than just sending them. E-mail’s effi ciency requires that account holders log in on a regular basis. On average, students interviewed said they logged in six to eight times a day. Th ere are, of course, drastic outliers. Aurora Quinn-Elmore ’12 said she checks her e-mail once daily, while Molly McArdle ’09 estimated that she checks it “a kazillion times a day.”

“Particularly because I have outlook which dings every time I get an e-mail and because I have an iPod touch which allows me to compulsively check my e-mail—even during class,” McArdle wrote, unsurprisingly, in an e-mail.

Students who don’t check their e-mail addresses quite so compulsively, and even those who do, also use other forms of electronic communications—GrinnellPlans, instant messaging services, SMSs and particularly the Facebook wall and inbox—for speedy non-verbal modes of communication. Facebook threatens e-mail’s role as the site for informal communication, with a majority of students interviewed checking Facebook more than e-mail. Students often said they prefer to use Facebook for social and personal correspondences, and e-mail for academic and professional matters.

For some people, e-mail plays a greater role in the social realm. Ruth Campbell ’11 noted that e-mail, rather than Facebook, was the site for developing relationships her fi rst-year. Campbell recounted how she got to know her friend Felicity Slater ’11 via e-mails about their tutorial readings. Later at a party, they “decided [they] would be friends in real life and not just through e-mail.” A similar string of correspondences brought

Campbell into her fi rst romance at Grinnell. “We would climb together and hang out but it was never really a relationship except through e-mail,” she said. “Only in e-mail were we able to be like ‘oh, we kinda like each other.’”

etiquetteE-mail culture at Grinnell is somewhat structured in an unwritten

etiquette. Th ough its use varies somewhat, people tend to have strong opinions on how to communicate with diff erent people via e-mail, what levels of formality are appropriate when, and how to begin and sign-off e-mails. “I certainly change in formality [depending on who I am writing]. Only when I am replying to e-mail to me that’s been sent to me that only needs a brief reply, do I remove the heading entirely,” Sletten ‘11 said. “Th at’s the only time when I will start writing as opposed to having a little salutation at the beginning.”

Students expressed the most uncertainty about the most appropriate salutations for professors. Many students start simply using the professor’s name. Others opt for the traditional “dear so-and-so.” Still others open with a friendly “hi” or “hey.” One student thought writing “hello” was too jilted and violated the unexplored code of etiquette for faculty-student communication.

When this etiquette is breached, the result is often awkward. Last year, while Alex Littler ’10 served as a mentor for a section of Stephen Sieck’s, Chemistry, organic chemistry class, things went awry when Littler decided Saturday night that he needed to send Sieck an e-mail. “I was a little intoxicated and I needed to send him an e-mail for some reason but

ll& Ari Anisfeld


8 | April 24, 2009


I was like ‘blah blah, hearts and rainbows, Alex,” Littler said. “But he never responded.” e-mailing with authority fi gures can be tricky, especially when you’re related to the authority fi gure in question. Peter Henry ’09 says that the most dramatic e-mail he ever received was from his mother, a response to his fi rst e-mail from abroad that mentioned he had been enjoying London and eating tuna fi sh. “Th e only thing she responded back with an all-caps ‘HOLD THE TUNA!’” Henry recounted. Henry’s mother went on, in great detail and “like a thousand exclamations,” to inform her son about the mercury content of tuna, chiding him for having more than one can of tuna fi sh per week. “If money were an issue she’d send me money,” Henry recalled his mom writing.

In general, Henry takes a more light-hearted approach to e-mailing. When sending mass e-mails to the concerts committee, of which he is chair, he likes to personalize things. “I like to use ‘yin’ when I am talking to students, because that’s like a Pittsburgh thing. It’s like you all in Pittsburg, it’s ‘yin’ … Or folks, I end up using folks more,” Henry said.

Esther Howe ’11 also likes to personalize e-mail, crafting them in style and syntax to produce a digital gift. “It’s also a cool way to show your friends a diff erent part of you because you have this time to craft something and it’s like a deliberate creation for somebody else,” Howe said. “It’s almost like making something for them.”

E-mail however is not always so refi ned. Quick messages arranging dinner plans or study time are often brief, unpunctuated and goofy. Campbell recalled sending snarky e-mails to set up meetings with friends Slater and Howe. “Like every single day we would send an e-mail that said something along the lines of like ‘hey, shit head, I’m going to the gym now, come there,’ [or] ‘Hey penis, we’re gonna be in Noyce tonight.’” Campbell said, “which has actually stopped over the years.”

how quickly things changeE-mail has come to play an integral role in our relationships here at Grinnell. It

is therefore somewhat jarring to consider that not too long ago then-President Drake was refusing to succumb to the desktop or that when the current seniors were fi rst-years, their elders thought cell phones were über-un-Grinnellian. Henry imagined the time before instant communication idyllically: “calling dorm phones, hoping maybe I’d just run in to this person at a party. [It must have been] less organized, less of a mainstream,” he said with wonder. While Henry’s reverie suggests a longing for a life less ordered and maintained, it also highlights the convenience of the modern communication systems. In the past, the dorm phone and campus mail were certainly integral aspects of communication, and in some regards they still are, but faster electronic media have marginalized them.

While e-mail, and the internet generally—mechanized, quick-fi re and standard—seems to have removed some spontaneity from campus life, in form, the e-mail allows for creative personalized communication—like calling a new friend “shithead”—which can be spontaneous in a diff erent way.

Is it too early to feel nostalgia for times past? Or just early enough to start wondering about what communication will be in the future? Today e-mail and Facebook, tomorrow telepathy and Twitter.

the uneasy tranPROFESSIN STUD

10 | April 24, 2009

Last semester—the Th ursday of Hell Week¬¬—students, faculty, administrators and staff piled into JRC 101 for a community forum on the state of the campus. People crowded the stairs and spilled out into the hallway. Everyone came seeking answers on topics ranging from hirings and fi rings in Student Aff airs to the Offi ce’s policy on calling home when a student has been hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. Th e theatrics that ensued would quickly turn

into legend. Amidst student skepticism, Dean of Students Travis Greene assured students that he had no “double top-secret agenda.” In the forum’s waning moments, Ralph Savarese, English, rose from his chair brandishing what he claimed was Sheree Andrews’ personnel fi le and excoriated administrators for impropriety.

Much of the anxiety on display at December’s open forum was rooted in fears about ongoing changes in the Offi ce of Student Aff airs. With substantial turnover in the top ranks of Student Aff airs, its new chief administrators have implemented a number of changes—starting this summer with a complete divisional reshuffl ing—that have been referred to as “professionalization.” For proponents, the idea encourages creating policy based on “best practices” from other institutions, ensuring adherence to federal mandates and opening lines of communication. To detractors, professionalization insinuates the demise of Grinnell’s uniqueness and incorporation into the mainstream.

changing timesTh e changes since Dougharty’s and Greene’s arrival have been substantial. Shortly

after Dougharty came to campus, Jennifer Krohn, former Dean of Student Life, was transferred to Institutional Research, beginning a division-wide restructuring of Student Aff airs. Employees within the division, such as Director of Service and Social Commitment Doug Cutchins, took on new duties and at times moved into new offi ces. While most students may not have noticed these organizational changes, students paid attention when Associate Dean and Director of Residence Life Sheree Andrews was abruptly placed on administrative leave on Sept 8.

Additionally, the offi ce has explored some controversial policy moves, including proposed modifi cations to the role of Student Advisors and a reluctance to fund a trip to protest the School of the Americas. Th e apprehension was exasperated by the constant churning of the College rumor mill and a growing sense that students were not consulted in these policy shifts.

Some of the proposed changes were framed in the context of aligning the school with policies at other institutions. Th is was specifi cally true, for instance, in the case of the policy of calling home for students hospitalized because of alcohol. At the December open forum, Dougharty spoke of the need to adopt such a policy by comparing Grinnell to other institutions and prevailing trends in the fi eld; he said that Grinnell had no such policy and that he had never been at an institution without one. At other points in the year, there was also some discussion of involving Student Advisors in assessing year-end fi nes for dorm room damage and the Offi ce also created a sort of internship position for students interested in careers in Student Aff airs. Both of these proposals were seen as moves to align the student staff positions closer to the resident advisor systems that predominate at other schools. Dougharty’s arrival was also accompanied by apparently more stringency in the enforcement of alcohol policy; the school’s historical laxness in this area had been something of a hallmark that encapsulated Grinnell’s off beat and looser approach.

In hiring for open positions this year, Student Aff airs has generally made a point of reaching beyond the Grinnell community, with the phrase “casting as wide a net as possible” quickly an Offi ce favorite. Job postings for both the Dean of Students and Associate Dean positions required more post-master’s experience than similar positions in previous years and at other institutions. Th is year’s crop of RLC candidates have exuded a noticeably more business-like demeanor—pinstripe jackets and pantsuits and generally more sober—as compared to some of the more eccentric characters that have graced Grinnell’s residence halls in recent years.

Some have cited Dougharty as a “change agent,” specifi cally brought in to shake up the organizational culture that predominated on JRC third fl oor.

“I think the rate of change has been a big part of the … schism and controversies,” said SGA Treasurer Emily Wax ’09, who helped organize last semester’s open forum. “And I think that has harmed our community.”

nsitionSIONALIZATION DENT AFFAIRS

Jeff Raderstrong

Additional coverage by Ari Anisfeld

and David Logan


While the Student Affairs Offi ce on the thrid fl oor of the JRC houses many Student Affairs administrators, Vice President of Student Affairs stresses that Student Affairs is a division which includes other adminis-trators and offi ces.

PHOTO BY AARON BARKER

“best practices”What really underlies many of the administrative reforms, and

student anxieties about them, is something far less tangible and yet potentially more signifi cant than any individual policy change—a desire to bring increased “professionalization” to the offi ce—a general desire Dougharty has expressed. Administrators often describe such changes as moves which will benefi t students by discarding failed practices and incorporating new dynamic ones from outside institutions. In the case of staff changes, Dougharty has described the process as matching staff members’ skills and passions with their duties, while raising expectations of staff . “We’re expected to be signifi cantly more involved than we used to be,” said Kim Hinds-Brush, Assistant Director of Residence Life and Loosehead RLC. A simple example she pointed to was formally requiring RLCs to know the names of their clusters’ residents.

Much of the organizational restructuring is cited as an eff ort by Greene and Dougharty to increase communication between all Student Aff airs departments—like the Career Development Offi ce, the Health Center and the Chaplain’s Offi ce—as well as increase communication with the student body. “What became clear to me [soon after arrival] is that those collection of departments and programs have not necessarily worked very intentionally as a student aff airs organization,” Dougharty said, which he felt prevented Student Aff airs from providing “the best educational experience we can for Grinnell college students.” Dougharty’s holistic view of Student Aff airs informs his strive to increase communication between the diff erent departments.

In deciding when and how to reform Student Aff airs practices, Greene said that the division often looks to other schools—both small liberal arts colleges and larger institutions—to get a sense of the “best practices of what’s out there … [and what] keeps us in line with the legal and policy mandates.” Conforming to national “best practices” allows the College to evaluate its policies against the broader scope of higher education. Communicating with student aff airs professionals at other schools helps bring new ideas to Grinnell that can dramatically improve current policies. Administrators noted that comparisons with other institutions have helped strengthen student-driven policy directives. Dougharty highlighted the school’s recent adoption and expansion of gender-neutral housing as one example of the eff ectiveness of following other schools’ leads. According to Dougharty, “To be able to bring in outside data and outside research was part of what allowed us to expand gender neutral housing.”

One example of an area for improved professionalization has even been identifi ed by students themselves, some of whom have complained about a perceived tendency of the College to off er positions to the partners of sought after faculty candidates as an incentive for working at the school. Too often, they said these individuals were unqualifi ed and given employment simply to entice them and their partner to relocate. A standardization and professionalization of hiring practices and qualifi cations could curtail this practice and ensure that only the most qualifi ed candidates are hired.

grinnell exceptionalism

Despite administrators’ stated intentions, not all members of the campus have welcomed the eff orts. Students, in particular, take issue with the application of national practices at Grinnell because of a belief in Grinnell exceptionalism—that this college is unique from its “peer institutions.” Th e school’s espoused philosophy of self-governance, its quirky brand of students, and a long legacy of bucking the mainstream are all cited as examples of Grinnell’s special stature among the cadre of small liberal arts schools. Th ough most would agree new ideas can be constructive, students are generally hostile to the idea that Grinnell model itself after some other institution, for fear of sacrifi cing its unique culture in the process. “For students, Grinnell is an experience, so to professionalize an experience is to streamline and marginalize it,” Wax said. “Th e advertising, the ‘No limits,’ the website all trigger a fear that that’s what’s happening, that we’re making Grinnell look like every other liberal arts college.”

Ross Preston ’10 —and other students—acknowledged that the real diff erences between Grinnell and other liberal arts colleges might not be as great as many students believe. But still, they argued, overarching campus changes—newer, arguably more sterile buildings, publicity and recruitment campaigns that ignore what makes Grinnell “diff erent”—cause students to fear that outside infl uences lead to standardization and force Grinnell into a cookie cutter “mainstream.” But while “streamlining” Grinnell advertisements and architecture may irritate some students, students are grated more by perceived “streamlining” in Student Aff airs, because their policies aff ect student life more directly.

“Houston has worked at so many diff erent institutions . . . it’s possible that the new administration wouldn’t appreciate the diff erences between this place and other schools,” said Presto. “If you are going to come in here and do all the same things you’ve done at other places, I don’t agree with that.”

Both Dougharty and Greene made a point to reach out to students soon after they were hired. Th ey both attended several on-campus parties early in their tenures and after Dougharty’s fi rst weeks on campus, the S&B wrote an editorial praising him for his “eff ort at getting to know

An Alcohol Task Force meeting brings a number of community members to the table to discuss student affairs including Vice President of Student Affairs Houston Dougharty, SGA President Neo Morake and Associate Dean of the College Kathleen Skerrett.


12 | April 24, 2009

a wide segment of students.” But not all students are convinced that Dougharty and Greene adequately grasp Grinnell’s culture—that after only a few months on campus, how could they? “A lot of people were optimistic about them in the beginning because they said… ‘We want to get to know Grinnell community,’” said Katey Gager ’11, an SGA senator. “It seem like Houston had done a little bit of that, but once he had made his point that he had done a little bit, he kind of stopped.”

At the December open forum, communication between administrators and students was a main topic of concern. Both Greene and Dougharty said all administrators are open to students coming into their offi ces with questions, but some students think administrators should be more active in the community. Students think they could do more. “I know who Houston and Travis are but, since Houston’s fi rst semester here, I’ve seen him once on campus,” Gager said. “I’ve talked with plenty of other people who feel the same way. Th e only way to contact them is to go directly to their offi ce and [students] don’t feel comfortable doing that just because of what happened last semester.”

Th e administration has said that it carefully considers Grinnell’s culture and traditions when contemplating policy changes. All senior-

level administrators interviewed were quick to assert that for any policy change to be eff ectively implemented, it must be compatible with the Grinnell community and its own culture. “If [policy changes] don’t fi t the Grinnell culture, then they’re not going to work,” Greene said.

educators, not administrators

Th e emphasis on “best practices” can perhaps be viewed in tandem with a slow shift in the offi ce’s stated role: a shift from being just administrators to being educators. Th is focus on student learning, rather than administrative services, illustrates a philosophical divide over the best manner of student aff airs administration. Generally, a Student Aff airs division can be seen as either support staff or as an integral part of


CONTINUED ON PAGE 35

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. April 2009.A photograph of Bing Luong Van, his wife, and two children, circa 1955. Fol-lowing his service in the First Indochina War and the disintegration of the Tai Federation, Mr. Van fl ed with his family to Vientiane, the capital of Laos, where— like many Tai Dam refugees—they lived and worked for over 20 years.

14 | April 24, 2009

facesfaces of the of the

THE TAI DAM THE TAI DAM VETERANS OF IOWAVETERANS OF IOWA

A photo essay byA photo essay by Lawrence Sumulong Lawrence Sumulong

waterswaters


Th e ancestral homeland of the Tai Dam (Black Tai) people resides primarily in four northwestern provinces of Vietnam, a region formerly referred to as Sip Song Chau Tai (Th e Twelve Tai Principalities) or Muong Tai (Tai Country). Muong Tai was an autonomous kingdom situated in between the larger nations of Laos, China, and Vietnam until the end of the 19th Century, when the French aggressively colonized the entire region of Southeast Asia (Indochina). Annexed to the French territory of Tonkin (North Vietnam) in 1888, Muong Tai would lose their sovereignty, but remain undisturbed for 60 years under of French-Vietnamese rule.

During World War II, Muong Tai’s geographic location at the crossroads of China and French Indochina made it a valuable holding ground for the confl ict’s larger belligerents and in March 1945, Japan’s Imperial Army successfully invaded the region, shortly disposing the French occupation. Following the Japanese surrender at the end of the War, France reestablished its presence in Muong Tai in February of 1946. However, their return to the region was greeted by emergent non-Tai Dam guerilla and political groups, such as the Viet Minh, the Pathet Lao, and the Khmer Issarak, which challenged the French hold in the region.

In March 1948, in an attempt to fortify their political and military interests in Indochina, the French created the Tai Federation or Sip Hok Chau Tai, or the Sixteen Tai Principalities. As a semi-independent and short-lived protectorate, the Tai

“Faces of the Waters” is an ongoing project recording the diasporic history of the Tai Dam community in Iowa through the lives and possessions of a subset of aging Tai Dam individuals. Characterized by narratives of colonization, persecution, and protracted

migration, this selection of images is a condensation of a larger project striving to illuminate both the general and idiosyncratic aspects of the Tai Dam migrant experience.

Federation allied with the French to combat the communist Viet Minh forces during the First Indochina War (1946-1954). But waning French presence in Indochina led to the evacuation of top Tai Dam diplomats, esteemed military offi cers, members of the French Foreign Legion, and their families in November of 1952 to Hanoi, which remained under tenuous French control.

Ultimately, the decisive Viet Minh victory at Dien Bien Phu and the resulting Geneva Accords of 1954 marked the end of French colonial rule in Indochina, the division of Vietnam, and the gradual dissolution of the Tai Federation into North Vietnam. Th e Tai Federation was renamed the Tai-Meo Autonomous Zone a year later and then changed to the Northwest Autonomous Zone in 1962, a distinction that would be abolished entirely after the unifi cation of Vietnam in 1975.

Fearful of communist persecution, the Tai Dam in Hanoi as well as a number of families in the defunct Tai Federation fl ed as refugees to South Vietnam and Laos in July of 1954, where they would live and work for approximately 20 years. However, the communization of Cambodia, South Vietnam, and Laos forcibly uprooted these Tai Dam communities in 1975. Seeking asylum in Th ailand, thousands of Tai Dam families covertly crossed the Mekong River to live in poorly maintained refugee camps, again leaving behind their livelihoods for an uncertain future.

Unable to permanently resettle in Th ailand, the Tai Dam refugee

community migrated to countries such as France, Canada, Australia, and the United States. As conditions continued to deteriorate in the region and with the number of refugees growing every day, President Ford implored governors of each state to accept persons displaced by the confl ict. In 1975, Iowa Governor Robert Ray responded by establishing the Task Force for Indochinese Resettlement which opened the state to Southeast Asian refugees.

After welcoming 1,200 initial refugees to the state, Governor Ray’s resolve to help the Tai Dam was strengthened after witnessing a television documentary on the group’s continued suff ering. Dubbing the Tai the “boat people,” the program broadcasted jarring images of Tai Dam people fl eeing Vietnam in leaky boats, many of which sank or capsized. Moved by their continued plight, Ray off ered to more than double the number of Tai Dam in the state. Despite Ray’s intentions, then, as now, some Iowans were unhappy about hosting a large infl ux of immigrants. In addition to shear xenophobia, many feared that the new residents would take jobs from Iowans. Yet in the face of this opposition, Ray expanded his state’s assistance.

Currently, 70 to 80 percent of all Tai Dam living in the United States reside in Iowa. Today, the Iowa Bureau of Refugee Services is the only state body offi cially recognized by the State Department as a resettlement agency. Two years ago, ground was broken on the fi rst Tai Dam community center in Des Moines.

the project

the history

16 | April 24, 2009

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y I.

D.


18 | April 24, 2009

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. April 2009.

A photograph of Bing Luong Van’s two sons revisiting their childhood house in Laos. Fol-lowing the communization of Indochina and the unifi cation of Vietnam in 1975, Mr. Van’s family fl ed across the Mekong River to the infamous refugee camp Nong Khai in Th ailand. Forced to leave their possessions and livelihoods behind, the Tai Dam community became displaced for the second time in 20 years.


20 | April 24, 2009

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. March 2009.Born on July 25, 1939, Gien Lem was conscripted by the French Foreign Legion and the Tai Federation army when he was 20 years old. After four years of service, he moved to the Laotian capital Vientiane after the Viet Minh captured his ancestral homeland of Muong Tai. The communist takeover of Indochina forced his wife and family to fl ee. Like Bing Loung Van’s family (previous) they ended up spending one and a half years interned in Thailand at the infamous refugee camp of Nong Khai. In 1980, his family was transferred to a refugee camp in the Philippines before moving to the United States in April 1981.


22 | April 24, 2009

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. March 2009.

Quang Van Duc holds a certifi cate of aptitude awarding him with a degree in radio and telecommuni-cations. Duc received sev-eral distinctions including the Croix de Guerre (Th e War Cross) for his service as a paratrooper and a radio operator during the First Indochina War.


24 | April 24, 2009

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. February 2009.Born on October 10, 1922, Hao Baccam, in addition to fi ghting in the First Indochina War, was enlisted by the CIA to take part in clandestine reconnaissance missions during the CIA’s Secret War in Laos (1962-1975). Captured on his fi rst mission by the North Vietnamese Army, Mr. Baccam spent three years in solitary confi nement and over two decades in prison. He was released in the late 1980s and eventually resettled in Iowa, where 70 to 80 percent of the Tai Dam population in the United States currently resides.

The S&B | Magazine 25

26 | April 24, 2009

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. April 2009.Quang Van Duc and his second wife at home. Separated from their fi rst spouses during the First Indochina War, both Duc and his wife eventually mar-ried each other. Th e two black briefcases contain documents archiving Mr. Duc’s entire legal

history in the United States.


28 | April 24, 2009

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. March 2009.

A standard French Foreign Legion passport from the First Indochina War issued to all Tai Dam soldiers. Th is particular I.D. tech-nically belongs to a soldier by the name of Lo Van Ui. However, it was mistakenly issued to Bing Luong Van.


30 | April 24, 2009

USA. Des Moines, Iowa. April 2009.A photograph taken in the early 1990s of Bing Luong Van’s hometown in the Viet-namese province of Son La. Son La is one of the four provinces residing in the now defunct region of Sip Song Chau Tai, the ancestral home-land of the Tai Dam people.


Travis GreeneDean of Studnets

thoughtsSELF-GOVERNANCE

Attempting to write about self-governance at Grinnell in 300-500 words is a daunting task—especially when there are, most likely, as many defi nitions as there are people at this College. Th at being said, I will do my best to provide a working defi nition of self-governance in a succinct and cogent manner. Self-governance is a philosophic approach that fosters student agency and accountability. Implicit in self-governance is a presumption of adulthood. By treating college students like the adults they are, students are free to live in an environment that provides a high level of autonomy and a focus on their personal and academic learning and development. As a result, College faculty and staff are free to teach and work in an environment that promotes personal and social responsibility.

While there may not be a unifi ed defi nition of self-governance, I know there are students who can articulate many of its general principles: being responsible for your community, being accountable for your choices, and not infringing upon the rights of others. I have heard others state that while they cannot necessarily defi ne self-governance, they know it when they see it—or, more importantly, they know it when they do not see it. When I fi rst started working at Grinnell, I asked a student how she defi ned self-governance. Her response was, “Self-governance does not mean ‘lawlessness.’”

Indeed, self-governance does not mean that a student can or should create rules for one’s self, without any regard for the customs, norms or laws around them. Grinnell College does not exist within a bubble. As such, self-governance encourages students to be accountable to the Grinnell community and beyond. Rather than focusing on one’s self, self-governance challenges students to focus on the collective “self ”—that is, themselves. By creating community standards, as opposed to personal or individual standards, self-governance creates a system whereby students may govern themselves.

So, are the recent and persistent rumors about self-governance dying a slow and certain death accurate? As I am not a student, that is not for me to say. I can emphatically state, however, that there is no agenda—hidden or otherwise —that seeks to diminish the import or role of this communal philosophy. Quite the contrary! Eff orts have been made throughout the past academic year to strengthen administrative structures that are designed to challenge and support students in governing themselves. Th ere is now student representation on the College Hearing Board and the Committee for Academic Standing. Students have been, and will continue to be, instrumental in the creation and revision of College policy. It seems to me that the only constituency that would be able to diminish the role of, or dismantle, self-governance would be students themselves.

Self-governance, as a community philosophy, has been part of Grinnell College for over 40 years and will continue to be so for years to come. If “self-gov is love,” then it is also true that “self-gov is love(d)”—by students, alumni, faculty, and staff alike. Self-governance will, undoubtedly, live on!

32 | April 24, 2009

“Self-governance is dying” is a phrase repeated most every year. It seems this concept has been particularly salient as of late with rumors fl oating around campus regarding the malevolent plans of the new ad-ministration to restructure residence life and “professionalize” Grinnell, which could perhaps even lead to the abolishment of self-governance as we now know it. While specifi c changes haven’t been implemented, I fi nd the implicit vision for Grinnell contrary to our principles.

Self-governance at Grinnell has traditionally embraced the idea that a community with positive relations, which is expected to look after itself as adults, is superior to one that places enforcement above responsibility and respect. A simple reality of the world is that people make choices about how to live their lives, and choices do not always line up with the law. Th is happens regardless of whether or not tension between college students and Residence Life occurs as a result. College students are adults, and must be treated as such.

Moreover, in this complex and sometimes frightening world, people need to look after each other. Paid Resident Advisors (RAs) document-ing underage drinking and enforcing “quiet hours,” as many residential colleges choose to employ, do not exist in the real world; people must depend on themselves and take responsibility for their own comfort and the comfort of those around them.

I’ve seen such an alternative to self-governance in operation at our peer institution Macalester College, where I spent my fi rst year of college. It creates an endless battle between students and administrators, who, to the students, appear to exist only to get them in trouble for breaking rules. Such a system suggests that the administration does not consider

Charlie White ’09

students to be capable of looking after themselves and require authority to stay in line. Th is does not foster the development of community; it rather creates a hierarchy of power and destroys the potential positive re-lationship between students and Residence Life, the importance of which has traditionally been emphasized by Student Aff airs and Residence Life at Grinnell.

Rather than attempt to shelter their students, Grinnell has taken the route of self-governance, treating its students as adults and giving them the responsibility to treat each other as such. Th is system provides stu-dents with important skills and a dose of reality before graduating into the real world of apartments and houses, in which the police don’t do rounds at 1 a.m. on weekends and people naturally look after each other by governing their own communities. Additionally, it creates an environ-ment in which student input is valued for many important administrative decisions.

So, I suppose this is a simple plea to preserve self-governance, which may or may not be in real danger—it’s diffi cult to say at this point. Th e new administration appears to be fi ne with changing things around, but this is an issue that we cannot aff ord to change. Self-governance might mean something diff erent to everyone, but to me, it’s a way to avoid treat-ing adults like children and to develop a mature student body that is respected by administrators and plays an active role in the progression of the College. To lose it would be to lose a part of our culture, which has evolved in part because of the responsibility and freedom we have tradi-tionally been granted by the administration.

SELF-GOVERNANCE


“It is ten thousand times better that the young people should learn to govern themselves, than that they should be governed in any best way whatsoever…I believe neither in the imperiousness of ab extra authority; nor in manage-ment by adroit diplomacy; nor in the weakness of pathetic pleadings; – but rather in frank, manly, ingen-uous, open dealing. I have bound-less confi dence in putting students on their honor.”Grinnell College President George Gates’ 1887 Inaugural Address out-lined some early principles of self-governance.

“Th e idea of home rule is fright-ening to many because it doesn’t tell the student what he cannot do. Home rule to many is understood as being anarchy and rampant ‘freedom.’ . . . Th is is a gross mis-conception of home rule. Home rule can be a viable structure if those exercising it realize its mean-ing; a posing of positive ‘do’s to re-place the traditional ‘cannot’ form of rule.”

-”Home Rule: Freedom or Anarchy”, S&B, October 18, 1968

“Nothing will work in the resi-dence halls unless the students need it, want it, and fully partici-pate in it. Ultimately, the only ones who can solve problems in the halls are the students themselves. We can, and should, off er them help and support but they ultimately must do it.”

-Jim Tederman, Dean of Students, “Character of Residence Life” April 16, 1979

I’ve been a student advisor for three years now, and on student staff we throw around the term self-governance a lot. Th ese days, if some-one were to ask me for a quick and clean defi ni-tion, I would tell them this: self-governance is a communal agreement to hold each other and ourselves accountable for the actions we take and the actions we don’t take, as individuals and as a community. But I would follow that state-ment with this: self-governance is an idea that should never be explained quickly or cleanly. It is necessarily messy and it is always evolving and—like most good things at Grinnell—it is inherently personal.

Personally, my four years of self-governance at Grinnell have been about fostering safe spac-es in our homes and classrooms, about taking care of myself and doing what I can for the people around me, about listening and about active kindness. And in a sideways sort of way, self-governance has been about late-night con-versations in the hallway. Self-governance takes shape when we come together and talk about our communities, in forums large or small.

Amanda Gotera ’09

Yes, of course self-governance means that we’re responsible for calling out friends and strangers alike when they trash a lounge or drink themselves into the emergency room. Th ese actions are important. But we should take care not to lose track of the deeper founda-tion of the idea: that at its root, self-governance means we are each responsible for building and protecting the values of our community. While we may not always agree on the exact shape and form of those values, we are responsible for sus-taining a continual dialogue on the issue. Self-governance is itself those late-night conversa-tions in the hallway, those long student staff meetings, those letters written to the S&B, and those heated arguments between offi ces and de-partments.

I have faith in the Grinnell community’s willingness to argue, in our diversity of perspec-tives and priorities. We must ask questions of our professors and administrators and SGA executives, that we must ask questions of our-selves, and that we must act on those conversa-tions.

Self-govthroughtime

SELF-GOVERNANCE

34 | April 24, 2009

At a meeting of the Committee on Student Life, Dean of Students Travis Greene talks with other Committee members about issues of self-governance and campus community.


the educational experience. At Grinnell, Student Aff airs administrators see themselves as educators. “We see ourselves as folks who play a role in providing students with an excellent learning environment,” Dougharty said. “And while we may not provide that in the classroom, we provide it outside the classroom.” Dougharty views Student Aff airs as a holistic entity—not just a collection of offi ces on the third fl oor of the campus center and throughout campus, but a division that has a place in students day-to-day lives. Because students mature while attending college, Student Aff airs can have a place in teaching students life skills and emotional maturity, while also supporting them in that learning experience, he said.

Th is perspective is not entirely new. Joyce Stern ’91, Dean for Student Academic Support and Advising, said that Student Aff airs administrators viewing themselves as educators and professionals did not start with Dougharty’s arrival, but both Greene and Dougharty are trying harder to clarify the administration’s role for the community. “Internally, people have been concerned with doing the best job they can putting students at the center,” said Stern, who has worked at Grinnell for ten years. “I think Houston and Travis have a diff erent way of talking about that and quite frankly, wanting the rest of the campus to know what we do over here. We aren’t the caretakers of the student body. We are educators.”

Student Aff airs came out with a new mission statement this semester. Under Tom Crady, the former Vice President for Student Aff airs who left in January 2008, there was no offi cial “mission statement,” but simply a “philosophy.”

Both are still on the website, with the “philosophy” dating as far back as 2001. In the old philosophy, Student Aff airs is a “complement” and an “eff ective support community” to “the college’s central educational mission.” Th e new mission statement is more active, saying that Student Aff airs “intentionally foster[s] and proactively promot[es] student learning.”

When discussing the diff erences in the new mission statement, Stern reiterated that she sees no large changes between Student Aff airs under Crady and Dougharty, saying “there are a hundred ways to explain the same thing. . . . Th is is a new way to articulate what we’re doing.”

moving forwardIn some ways, the selection of New York Times Columnist Th omas

Friedman as this year’s commencement speaker is particularly apt. While the “fl attening” of the world described by Friedman may elide the nuance of global political-economic shifts, it may help encapsulate the dynamics of Student Aff airs at Grinnell and at schools across the United States. With improvements in communication and technology, administrators from coast to coast can exchange philosophies, while a network of trade groups and professional associations spurs the proliferation of “best practices.” Th ese transformative pressures can work to “fl atten” out student aff airs at institutions throughout the country, moving toward more professionalization and more homogenization.

Whether or not Dougharty’s arrival will prove to be a watershed moment in the campus’ culture is a question that remains unanswered. But what is undoubtedly true is that Grinnell, like any institution, will continually change. Organizations must often adapt to changing conditions and many of Grinnell’s facets in other areas have been willingly cast aside to make way for new ones. What once was a shameful campus taboo—using a cell phone—is now a mainstay in the daily lives of most Grinnell students. Th e Forum, Cowles and Quad are now relics of their former selves and in their stead are a deluxe new computer lab and decked out apartments, while across campus rises the sleek steel and glass of the new East Campus residences.

Organizations continuously grow and change, often for the better. Many of the policy changes that fall under the umbrella of “professionalization”—that RLCs know their residents’ names, for instance—should probably have been in place long ago. What’s important is that in reshaping itself, the body be careful not to lose itself in the process. Th is is a time for introspection, for Grinnellians to contemplate how they want to defi ne themselves and their community.

PROFESSIONALIZATION FROM PAGE 13


a beauty

At 3 a.m. one Wednesday, Renee Anderson heard something bumping across the ceiling directly above her head. It’s a child, she thought wildly, a child moving on hands and knees through the crawlspace above my bedroom ceiling. She lurched out of bed, bleary, and stumbled downstairs to the kitchen to grab a broom.

Back upstairs again, she stood quiet in the bleak dark strangeness of her bedroom, eyes closed, listening. A few moments of silence passed, then she heard it, to her left above the armoire: thumpthumpthumpdrag. A pause. A creak of fl oorboards above as the thing shifted its weight.

In a spasm of horror, Renee struck out at the spot with the brush-end of the broom. Th e creature, taken by surprise, began to run in circles above Renee’s head. thumpthumpthumpthump thumpthumpthumpthump thump. Renee heard herself make a choking noise. She dropped the broom and raced downstairs to the living room sofa where she curled into a ball and cried.

Th ree hours later, Renee called animal control.“Th is is Renee Anderson, 333 Pine Tree Lane. Something has gotten

into my roof and I need it taken away immediately,” she said.“Could you give us more information as to the type of critter you need

specifi cally taken care of today, ma’am?” said the voice on the other end. It

was a backwoods voice, a voice like a rusty hinge.“I don’t know what it is. I don’t care what it is. I need it gone. Now.” “All right, ma’am, don’t you panic, whatever it is we can take care of

it for you. Can you give us some estimation as to the size of the critter?” “It’s big. Huge. I can hear it walking around up there.”“We have a lot of clients on your end of town having squirrel troubles.

Do you think it could be squirrels, ma’am?”“No, it’s not squirrels. It’s much bigger than a squirrel. It sounds like it

weighs at least seventy pounds.”“All right, ma’am. We’ll send one of our boys around in a few hours.”“I can’t wait a few hours. I have to work. I won’t be home in a few

hours.”“We’ll just send someone out to have a look at the roof. We can do it

all externally.”“Th ank you. Oh, thank you.”

Renee walked to work at the elementary school three blocks from her house. As she approached the school, she saw Janice Flinn, the lunch lady, getting out of her car. Janice handed out the kickballs at recess, and she had a habit of cupping two balls against her chest, one in each arm, so that they resembled huge red rubber breasts. Th e children would shriek with

Nora FrazinArtwork by Mike Kleine

Chapter 1: In the Ceiling

36 | April 24, 2009

laughter, to which Janice remained oblivious. Renee started walking faster, and pretended not to see Janice. Janice’s vulnerability, Renee thought, was detestable.

Th e classroom where Renee taught was not technically a classroom, but rather the “multipurpose room,” so she had to arrive at the school at least forty-fi ve minutes before her fi rst class to create the proper atmosphere. Renee was a fi rm believer in the proper atmosphere. She set up two sets of low risers along the wall for her students to stand on, and hung up her Mozart and Chopin posters on the blackboard. Th e janitorial staff had asked her not to leave the posters up overnight, as they interfered with cleaning. Due to budget cuts, Renee had to make do with a portable keyboard in lieu of a real piano. She pulled it out from the closet and plugged it into the wall. As a fi nishing touch, she went back into the closet and retrieved her six ukuleles, which she arranged just-so along the top of the bookshelves. When she fi nished, she sat down on her piano stool and rubbed her eyes. Her head ached from lack of sleep, and the thought of the thing— animal—critter—whatever it was—slinking around, inside her home, brought bile to her throat.

Renee’s house consisted of a living room, dining room and kitchen downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. Randy had needed one of the bedrooms for his offi ce, but when they moved in Renee had assumed that they could add a dormer, maybe, if they ever needed more room. Th ey had been living in the house for six weeks when Renee mentioned this thought to Randy.

“Just in case we ever, you know, wanted more space… if we were to have a —”

“Renee,” Randy said, “I’m leaving.”Silence.“I love you,” he went on, “please believe I love you. But I love you like

a sister. Every time I touch you it feels like incest.”Randy moved out the same week.

Th e fourth-graders arrived at the multi-purpose room a little after 8:30. Th is was Renee’s most diffi cult class; by the age of nine or ten, Renee had found, children ceased to be cute, which made their episodes of naughtiness much less bearable.

Th e children lined up along the risers, and Renee took attendance, a task she dreaded, principally because of Marta Abram. On the fi rst day of school that year, Renee had said to the class, “Now, I know usually when your teachers call attendance, you have to answer with ‘here’ or ‘present.’ But I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun when we take roll. As far as I’m concerned, you can say whatever you want as long as you say something.”

Congratulating herself inwardly at her ability to foster creativity in her pupils at all times, Renee had called the fi rst name on her list. “Marta Abram?”

“Something.” Th e rest of the class tittered.“Marta, that’s not what I meant. I want you to say what you want to

say. I don’t care how you answer me. You just have to say something. Now let’s try again. Marta Abram?”

“Something.” Marta, skinny and mousy-haired, stared at her from the back riser. Renee noted with displeasure that Marta had a line of crusted snot running up the sleeve of her Mickey Mouse sweatshirt.

Every day since that fi rst day, Marta had indicated her presence by calling out the word “something.” It had begun to catch on with some of

the naughtier boys, now, too. What bothered Renee wasn’t the insurrection itself, but the humorlessness with which Marta delivered the line. Her face showed no spark of mischief, just willful incomprehension.

After attendance and vocal warm-ups, Renee called Angela Th ornbury to the front of the room to practice her solo, which she would perform at the spring recital on Friday. As Angela sang out in the round tones of a wind chime, Marta began to cough, a dry hacking that resonated through Renee’s brain, mirroring the throbs of her headache.

“Th at was lovely, Angela,” Renee said when the girl had fi nished singing, although she had heard almost none of it. “Marta, see me after class.”

At the lesson’s conclusion, Marta stayed in her place on the back riser

as the other children fi led out of the multipurpose room. “Marta, why did you disrupt Angela’s solo?”“I didn’t do anything.”“Now, Marta, you know as well as I do that you coughed all the way

through Angela’s solo today.”“I have whooping cough.”Renee paused. “Marta, I won’t tolerate you lying to me.”“I have whooping cough.”“To go to school here you have to get a shot that keeps you from

getting whooping cough. No one gets whooping cough anymore. Th is isn’t the Oregon Trail, dear.” Renee prided herself on being able to relate to her students in terms they would understand.

“I’m allergic to pertussis.”Renee did not follow. She gritted her teeth. “I can’t see how that’s

relevant. Sweetheart. Now tell me why you wouldn’t be quiet for Angela to sing her solo. Are you jealous of her?”

“I. Have. Whooping. Cough.”Renee sighed. “Go to Principal Ellis’ offi ce.”

Over her lunch hour, Renee called animal control. Th e raspy voice, the voice of the hills, answered on the second ring.

“Th is is Renee Anderson. I called this morning about the animal in my roof.”

“Sure, sure, 333 Pine Tree. We sent our boy out this morning.”“And?”“Looks like you’ve got yourself a raccoon in your roof. Happens all

the time around this time of year. Seems the little guy got in through a hole by the fan you’ve got up there.”

“Did you get it out?” “We put a cage up there by the hole. We like to wait for a critter to

come out in his own time. When he does, the cage door closes, and we’ve got him. Now a raccoon, he sleeps all day, so he’ll probably come out at night for some grub. You’re gonna hear a slamming sound. Th at’s the trap. You call us, and we take him away. How does that sound?”

“Th at sounds beautiful.”

Renee woke up early the next morning and went outside in her pajamas to check the trap. She had some diffi culty getting a clear angle of sight on the cage from the ground. She circled the house several times. Her pajama bottoms dragged on the ground, and wet began to seep up the pant legs. Eventually, she clambered onto the roof of her car, which was parked in the driveway. Sure enough, she could make out a gray shape inside the cage.

Th e animal control guy came about an hour later, a young guy, not the owner of the voice on the phone.

“First stop of the day, the boss insisted,” he said. He took a ladder out of his truck and climbed up to the roof. When he came back down he had the cage in his hands. Renee took several steps back as he passed her, then immediately felt silly. Th e raccoon was much smaller than it had sounded when it walked above her. It hurled itself from side to side in the cage, but the man carried it to the back of the pickup with ease. When he set the cage down, the raccoon sat up and stuck its hands out between the bars, as if in supplication.

“She’s a beauty!” said the animal control guy. “I’m just glad that this nightmare is over,” said Renee.“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” the man said. “She’s a female. My guess is,

she was keeping some little ones up there.”“What?”“Just keep an ear out. Th ey’ll let you know they’re up there soon

enough.”

“I love you,” he

went on, “please

believe I love you.

But I love you

like a sister. Every

time I touch you it

feels like incest.”


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