Alumni express support for the efforts to prevent suicides
Alumni express support for the efforts to prevent suicides
I am writing in praise of Beth Saulnier's "Barrier Method" (Currents, September/October 2010). This extremely informative piece artfully explored the many aspects of Cornell's bridge dilemma in light of the recent suicides, from the difficulty in designing a barrier that delivers both functionality and aesthetic appeal to a discussion of the true ability of fencing to prevent bridge-based suicides based on psychological studies and statistics on suicidal individuals.
Cornell could have chosen to keep a lid on publicity following the unfortunate rash of suicides in 2009-10, but it has elected to pursue a much higher path and bring this issue to the forefront so the University can publicly acknowledge this distressing problem and involve the entire community in its resolution. I am proud of Cornell for the strong position it has taken on this difficult subject, and I have full confidence that the team of experts the University is bringing together to address this matter will converge on a creative, positive, and prudent solution—one that will serve as a model for other schools and organizations struggling with the same concern.
Susan Bloom '89
Chester, New Jersey
During a recent visit, I noticed green-and-white "Ithaca Is Fences" stickers placed on the temporary bridge fences, which appear to be an expression of opposition to the University's plan to replace the temporary fences with long-term means restriction. While I am in full support of this right of protest and can relate to the argument that the fences disturb the breathtaking views from the bridges, I'd like to respond to this clever parody of a well-known slogan by describing a personal event from my freshman year— which will, I hope, explain why I support the University's plan.
I clearly remember the day when physics prelim grades were posted on a bulletin board in Rockefeller Hall. I eagerly scanned the list, fully expecting to have exceeded the mean while secretly hoping to have aced the test and broken the curve. Much to my horror, next to my ID was the number 36. No way—thirty-six out of a hundred?
I was mortified as the reality of this grade sunk in. My body seemed to freeze and shake at the same time, in a combination of shock, shame, disbelief, depression, and devastation as I stood in front of that bulletin board. Countless negative thoughts flickered in and out of my head: I am an utter failure. I will surely flunk out. Life is miserable and hopeless. I can't handle it here. Cornell is too competitive. Everyone else here is much smarter than me. I am worthless. Why bother anymore. Should I jump?
Dazed and confused, I wandered away and headed toward Collegetown. Fortunately, I collected myself and somehow put my test result into perspective. The negative images that had consumed my brain began to be replaced by positive and optimistic thoughts. Jumping was a stupid idea. How could I even think that? I realized that I was still just a teenager, with much to contribute to the world ahead of me. Plus, I reminded myself, there are worse things in life than a bad test grade—so get over it.
Although the thought of suicide had flashed through my brain just a few minutes prior, my mind was far removed from the act of jumping by the time I calmly strolled across the College Avenue bridge. I had already decided to schedule a meeting with the professor to learn what went wrong and move on from there. As it turned out, the grade was entirely my fault: I had misread a question that called for an analysis of positive ions and instead gave an answer for negative ions. Professor Donald Holcomb was compassionate and helped me to salvage a respectable final grade in the course.
In retrospect, I believe that the distance between Rockefeller Hall and the College Avenue bridge was, in effect, a fortuitous barrier that may have saved me from possibly becoming another statistic. This distance may have served a function similar to the intended purpose of the University's planned long-term means restriction—to delay a person from acting on an impulsive thought. And, luckily for me, from then on I have never again had even the slightest thought of suicide, even though I have since had to endure situations in my life that were far more egregious and harmful to me than failing a prelim.
Stan Tso '83
Short Hills, New Jersey
Liberal Artist
liberal arts graduate who has traveled a circuitous route to my current incarnation as a gerontological social worker. And while my personal and professional interests have changed over the decades, I continue to reflect on how important my Cornell undergraduate education was, is, and surely will remain, to my life path. In these times of economic and social turmoil, it's important to remember that a liberal arts education is not "vanity" learning, but, rather, a much-to-be-desired and invaluable investment in one's future.
Marcie Gitlin '79
New York, New York
Record Breaker
I enjoyed your article on Max Seibald '09 (Sports, November/December 2010), one of the best collegiate lacrosse players in history, and its mention of his introduction to the sport at Camp Starlight. Starlight is one of about twenty-five neighboring eight-week summer camps in northeast Pennsylvania, all of which field boys and girls travel teams in many sports. My son Matt attended nearby Camp Wayne about five years later. It is a source of both pride and amusement in our family that Matt broke Max's single-season camp league record for goals scored.
Perry Jacobs '74
Mamaroneck, New York
Older. . . and Wiser?
Re "University Launches $100 Million Faculty Initiative" (From the Hill, November/December 2010): As a Cornell alumna as well as a sixty-three-year-old professor at another Ivy League school, I was dismayed to read the lamentation over the fact that "in 2008-09, nearly half the faculty was fifty-five or older, and nearly a third was sixty or older." Why assume that these professors are "set to retire over the next decade"? Why suggest that this age distribution is a barrier to faculty excellence? Ageism is an unattractive neologism, but views like this show the need for it.
Felicia Nimue Ackerman '68
Brown University
Providence, Rhode Island
Author's Request
A group of alumni has started an oral history project to record and preserve, through a collage of mini-memoirs, the history of political activism at Cornell in the Sixties and Seventies. It is their hope to collect these accounts into a book and donate the original material to the University archives. If you are interested in contributing your remembrances or know an activist alumna/us who might be, please contact Bill Schechter '68 at schech@rcn.com. He has also created a Facebook page for the project, with additional information and more specific guidelines, which can be found at: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=157712324258770&ref=ts.
Corrections—November/December 2010
"Safe Haven," page 30: The ducks referred to as mallards are actually Moulard ducks. And Hilda, the animal rescued from a stockyard in 1986 by Farm Sanctuary co-founder Gene Baur, MS '96, was a sheep, not a cow. Our apologies to the misidentified animals.