A Place to Pause

April 27, 2012

Everyone should have a special place — a refuge, perhaps. A retreat? A place that reglues one, makes one feel right with the world again. I have two: one is an island in Rhode Island, the other is Dublin School’s South Slope.

The former I make a pilgrimage to once, maybe twice, a year; the latter I have driven by at least twice a day for over forty years. On a good day I drive by four times. At least 50% of that time, there is a car parked there, taking in the extraordinary view to the East of the School, the far hills of Peterborough and the Temple Range beyond.

Although the view is somewhat obstructed today by the encroaching growth of bushes and trees, there were many years, particularly in the 70’s, when passersby might think they were seeing a hillside workgang somewhere in Georgia. The slope would be scattered with orange-clad bodies, brandishing hacksaws and clippers, and an occasional axe.

But no, not Georgia, just a routine Dublin School work gang, attacking those enemy saplings that sprang up overnight. For in those days, the South Slope was the “spinal column” of the campus, since without a gym, we were reliant on the sport of skiing. In fact, I distinctly remember kids skiing from the top of the North Slope, then poling themselves along Harrisville Road which they had packed with snow, and then Swoosh! Down the South Slope. Then they would ride bumpily back up on the rope tow to the Dubliner Cabin at the top.

That cabin was our Loon Mountain Club. Mr. “G” not only ran the tow, but kept the wood fire going, which kept the cider hot, which kept the parka-clad, frosty-faced skiers stomping in and out like a well-choreographed square dance, while the roar of the tow motor accompanied it all.

Years later, when I taught English 9, a first-day of classes ritual was to gather my students and lead them like lemmings along Harrisville Road to the top of the Slope. We would, for a few minutes, explore the interior of the Dubliner Cabin (no longer there.) Then, stepping around the rusted remnants of the old tow, they would emerge back into the sunlight and the glorious view before them.

“This is your view,” I would tell those fourteen year olds, “this is part of you now,” hoping somehow this 45-minute experience might squash the vestiges of homesickness, a little.

Whatever the season — the golds and reds of October, the russet desolation of early December, the white-spread valley of February, or what’s about to happen — the mind-blowing green profusion, the South Slope, again this morning, was a place to pause.

-Jan Hamon, The World According to Jan, Published in September 2016

If you would like a copy of The World According to Jan, please reach out to Associate Director of Advancement, Aimee Lord, at alord@dublinschool.org. We'd be happy to provide you with a copy.