|
|
|
|
Bonkers for Bonk • Cover
Shock • Conservation Question •
Town-Gown Talk •
Doing unto Others • 'I Wish
I'd Called'
 
Bonkers for Bonk
Editors:
When I saw the title "Bonkistry"
on the front cover of the July-August 2001 issue of Duke Magazine,
I immediately turned to the article
to find out what had happened to Dr. Bonk since 1978, when I had him
for introductory chemistry. I rank him in the top two of all the professors
in my academic career, primarily due to the exquisite clarity of his
presentations, but also because of his compassion. During the chemistry
lab final of my first semester at Duke, my calculator battery died
and I did not have a spare. I tried to complete the calculations to
the required nine significant digits by hand, but managed to finish
less than half the test before time was up. I appealed to the graduate
student to let me find another calculator so that I could complete
the test, but he said I would "have to talk to Dr. Bonk." The thought
of approaching the man who "wrote the book" on introductory chemistry
was quite intimidating, but he made time for me that morning to speak
with him. He arranged for me to complete the test later that day,
undisturbed in the chemistry library, with a fresh calculator, and
gave me all the time I needed. Thank you, Dr. Bonk, for treating me
as more than "just a number" at Duke. I wish you well in this next
segment of your academic career.
Patricia M. Cisarik-Fredenburg '82
(via e-mail)
Editors:
My aborted career as a chemistry major, Professor James Bonk must
understand, is assuredly not his fault. Thanks to an extraordinary
high-school chemistry curriculum, I came to Professor Bonk perhaps
a little better prepared in chemistry than the average freshman. Instead
of letting me coast, however, Professor Bonk simply ratcheted up the
expectations he had for me. Even in a survey course with more than
150 students, Bonk demonstrated an atomic perspective: each student
is unique, with the ability to react one-on-one with a professor's
intelligence, and capable of catalyzing a profound learning experience
across the rows of the lecture hall. No, the chemistry department's
loss came when I realized I would rather write about science than
do science. After some years as a science writer, struggling to explain
the intricacies of a subject that always resists simple explanations,
I came to appreciate James Bonk's talents and dedication even more.
John Kador '73
(via e-mail)
Cover Shock
Editors: I am shocked and dismayed to see the cover of the July-August
Duke Magazine. I wonder if the magazine staff understands
the content of the cover? Such ghastly language should not appear
on the cover of the Duke Magazine. Please understand the material
you are printing. That is the job of the editor.
Frank Wang (via e-mail)
Sandusky, Ohio
While it is not the magazine's intent to offend, it is also not
the magazine's intent to censor the artistic expression of the calligraphy
studies by C.C. Wang. The prominently displayed character translates:
"To Ask." |
Conservation Question
Editors:
In reading "Lemur Laments" [July-August
2001], I was puzzled at how little was written about the current
state of conservation in Madagascar. Without more resources and attention,
Madagascar will soon lose most of the already scarce habitat where
lemurs belong. It seems odd for researchers at the Duke University
Primate Center to spend so much time studying the evolution and physiology
of lemurs, and then pay relatively little attention to the lemurs'
long-term future.
It seems that the lemurs' fate and the Primate Center's fate might
be better addressed by focusing more resources on places in Madagascar
like Betampona and Ivoloina, where Duke is already providing some
assistance. The Primate Center could team up with other parts of
the Duke community, like the Center for Environmental Education
or the Center for Environmental Solutions, to provide increased
attention to the lemurs' plight in Madagascar. Duke students and
researchers, in turn, would gain greater access to one of conservation's
most compelling challenges. The lemurs, the students, the researchers,
and the Primate Center could all benefit.
I don't expect Duke to solve all of the environmental problems
in Madagascar, but I do think a more holistic approach to lemur
conservation will improve the situation for all involved.
George D. Ivey '91
(via e-mail)
|
Town-Gown Talk
Editors:
Your recent article ["Taking
the Initiative," September-October 2001] described the major
efforts Duke has undertaken to make itself a true partner in the
Durham community. Many residents have a vivid recollection of the
years during which Duke seemed aloof from the community, but the
actions by President Keohane and the trustees in 1996 really changed
the relationship.
Durham has benefited significantly from Duke's efforts in the schools,
the revitalization of housing in economically disadvantaged areas,
and the development of housing for Duke faculty and staff in Trinity
Heights. All these commitments have made the areas surrounding the
Duke Campus a better place to live.
Residents of Durham need to remember that Duke can't solve all
our problems, nor should they be expected to. Duke's primary mission
is to maintain a first-rate educational and research institution
and a medical facility second to none. We, the residents, benefit
from the successful execution of this mission. Duke attracts well-educated
faculty and staff to Durham. And we have access to outstanding medical
facilities.
We applaud Duke's efforts and hope that the relationship between
the community and Duke continue to strengthen.
W. Barker French '63
Durham, North Carolina
Editors:
I wanted to take a moment to applaud your article on the partnering
between Duke and the surrounding neighborhoods.
The mention of Lakewood Elementary School brings back memories
of some of the most precious times in my life, and of myself at
perhaps the best I've ever been. It was the fall of 1974 when the
call went out to the fraternities asking for students to help tutor
challenged students in the Durham area. The idea appealed to me
and I signed up. I was paired with Ava Hobgood, a second- grade
teacher, and Mr. Woody, the principal over at Lakewood. I remember
my initial visit as if it were yesterday: Twenty-two students, nineteen
of them black (and for me, who grew up in a lily-white borough in
New Jersey, this was an eye-opener), and fifteen of them, I was
told, from broken homes, some of whom didn't even have a father
figure in their lives. It was the beginning of a wonderful journey
for all of us.
The plan was for me to spend about an hour a week at the school
tutoring some of Mrs. Hobgood's children in reading and arithmetic.
Soon, though, I found out that the school had no phys. ed. teacher
and that it was up to the individual teachers to run their own gym
classes. Mrs. Hobgood confessed that she had no talents in that
area and wondered if I might have an extra hour each week to take
the kids out and teach them kickball or softball--something to let
them get some organized run-around time. Did I become a hero! It
got to the point where my arrival was the basis for "incentive"
behavior: The kids knew that if they misbehaved, they'd lose their
time with "Mr. Skip," and my one-hour sessions soon turned into
ninety-minute sessions--thirty for tutoring, sixty for activities.
During that year, my junior, I was president of the DUMB [Duke
University Marching Band], active in my fraternity, up to my ears
in engineering classes and organic chemistry--and nothing enriched
my life like "my" kids. I renewed my commitment during my senior
year and had another wonderful year, often bumping into the kids
I'd come to love the year before.
Recently, my engineering team here at the Ford plant in Norfolk
decided to enter a "Partners In Education" program with an elementary
school just down the street. We go over there for about forty-five
minutes each Wednesday. I have two darling little girls (one in
third grade and one in fourth) under my wing with whom I'm hopelessly
in love.
As I write to you on this beautiful afternoon, somewhat overcome
with emotion, I pray that the now thirty-two-year-olds who meant
so much to me are happy, healthy, productive members of their communities,
even though they have surely forgotten Mr. Skip. Yes, I sit on the
floor with my little girls and I realize that all these years later,
after twenty-three years of hard work in a dog-eat-dog industry,
three great kids, and lots of volunteer coaching, teaching in Junior
Achievement, and booster clubbing, those forty-five minutes a week
may still be the best that I ever am.
May God bless everyone associated with Duke who has come to realize
that Duke is by no means a sequestered, unapproachable hamlet nestled
within Durham; it is a part of the town, wealthy in money and talent,
that is able and eager to be a vital part of the community. But
it didn't just start recently. It goes way back. Your article reached
way into my soul and made me proud of what I was once part of and
reminded me that even now, what I do down the street is such an
important part of my life as well as those whom I can only hope
to touch.
Skip Heyman '76
(via e-mail)
|
Doing unto Others
Editors:
Regarding "Under the Gargoyle"
[September-October 2001]: Whatever happened to righteous
anger when evildoers visit destruction upon us?
If we as a nation could be outraged by the Japanese sneak attack
on Pearl Harbor, where the deaths of innocents (albeit military)
reached half the number of those who died on September 11, why can
we not commit to destroy the evildoers this time?
Our reply to the Japanese "day of infamy" defined our commitment
to destroy their war-making power, knowing full well the cost might
include the lives of hundreds of thousands of Americans and Japanese,
both military and civilian. That was anger at its best. Now comes
President Keohane, who writes: "If the abdication of our common
humanity that led to this horrible attack is allowed to seep into
our own lives and minds, then the terrorists will have achieved
their diabolic aim."
I ask: Who abdicated? What common humanity? Common to whom?
To avoid condemnation of evildoers is a current phenomenon. Duke
of the 1940s and 1950s (my years) would have focused first on the
evildoers and then on the 4,000 persons who were incinerated and
crushed--and their 7,000 children left behind. We would not have
worried about over-reacting against mass murderers and their protectors.
British Prime Minister Tony Blair put these attacks in perspective.
Why not print his speech to the House of Commons for all to appreciate
the proper response to these evildoers?
C. Lee Butler '52 J.D.'53
(via e-mail)
|
'I Wish I'd Called'
Editors:
The Duke community lost six alumni in the horror of September 11,
and one, Todd Rancke, was a friend of mine. We spent a fair amount
of time together our last two years at Duke, including our last
two spring breaks. I realize hardly anyone who reads this will have
known "Rancks," but we all know someone like him. Ask anyone to
describe Todd, and they would immediately say, "a good guy." It
seems in all the memories I have of him, he's smiling and laughing.
We played a lot of basketball together. I've always believed you
learn a lot about a person by playing ball with them, and Todd was
a "pass first" guy who you always wanted on your side. After graduation,
we both ended up in Charlottesville at U.Va. for grad school. We
played ball in the city league, and briefly shared a house one year.
Then he went back to New Jersey and I went to California--we hadn't
been in touch since.
Since I learned of his death, on September 30, I've struggled to
come to grips with his being gone. I've learned he has three young
children. I've looked through my photo albums from Duke and cried.
Todd was a good guy--no hard edges, and probably could have used
some. I wish I'd called.
Anyway, I somehow feel his death places a greater responsibility
on me to live my life--and maybe on you, too. I now understand--really
understand--that tomorrow may not come, and that what I do today
needs to be done so that I have no regrets if there is no next day.
How? First, I must pursue the career, the activities, and the people
that evoke passion in me. It is so easy to fall into a career, for
example, that is comfortable, or begets comforts, yet is uninspiring.
I was trained to achieve, to succeed, and the process of getting
there was of secondary importance. September 11 and Todd's death
make that not good enough any more.
Second, I need to do more to nurture my relationships, because
I know more than ever that it's the people in my life that make
it special. Todd was one of those people, but we both let things
fade as we pursued career and family on opposite sides of the country.
I wish I'd called.
The final realization I have is the need to make sure I'm giving
something back to others. Todd gave me a lot--he was upbeat, enthusiastic,
and nonjudgmental. That he should be taken away, that someone so
positive should disappear for no good reason, leaves me grasping
for a way to fill the void. As I look now at my two-year-old son,
so excited by each day, so constantly curious, I'm reminded to do
more for those around me. I have no illusions about changing the
world, but rather the need to make sure I'm doing my part to make
it better.
The Duke community lost a good guy on September 11. His name was
Todd Rancke, and he was my friend. I wish I'd called.
Rick Seidel '81
(via e-mail)
| Readers who wish to share reminiscences
about Todd Rancke '81, Michael Taylor '81, Rob Lenoir '84, Peter
Ortale '87, Todd Pitman '93, or Frederick J. Rimmele III M.D.
'94 may send them to the features
editor or Visit "In
Memoriam" to contribute. |
| Print Edition Correction:
In "Taking the Initiative" (Duke Magazine, September-October
2001), Mary Davis, program coordinator of the Juanita McNeil-Joseph
Alston West End Teen Center, was misidentified as the wife of
Fred Davis. The Rev. Fredrick Amos Davis is married to Judith
Hayes Davis. We apologize for the error. |
|
| |
|
