This whole thing started just over a year ago on a fall day in the middle of the week when I ran into four friends in food court and sat down for lunch. Out of our conversation, from no one in particular, sprang the question: "Why don't we have a mascot?" It wasn't the first time the question had been asked, nor the first time I'd thought about the answer, but for some reason this time the thought lingered in the air above us. We started talking. What-ifs and why-nots richocheted back and forth. And out of the banter came a plan: to find out if we could do something about Dartmouth's mascot vacancy.
We harbored no hidden motives, few personal desires. Although each of us represented the college on a sports team, we thought about wearing a mascot not only as athletes, but as fans and as students. So we started poking our noses around. We met with Athletic Director Dick Jeager and visited Nels Armstrong, the Director of Alumni Relations. The big picture quickly took form. The idea of a mascot went well beyond a jersey or a sweatshirt. It was a means of further identifying our school. From stationery to hats, a mascot bore the potential of becoming the Big Green's sidekick.
As we began to initiate discussion with advisors and our friends, I began to notice a recurring comment: based on the history of the Dartmouth mascot, we should anticipate running into opposition. I hoped, then, that we would be able to present this to our community in a way that transcended politics and previous traditions. I was a bit naive. To date, I've watched most of this term's activity from the sidelines. Although I've been in contact with those spearheading the search, I have not yet played an instrumental role. Instead, I've read the articles and listened to the snippets of conversation floating around campus.
The past continues to echo. The Indian, I hear. We want the Indian. In the short time I have been involved in the mascot search, one thing is unquestionably clear. The Indian is not a viable option. Beneath all of the arguments both for and against it, we can't have it as a mascot for one simple reason: it offends our peers.
Perhaps the only thing that every one of us has in common is that we are Dartmouth students. Nothing profound there, but think about it. We are invariably different, as humans must be when hailing from all backgrounds and cultures. We don't have to like the same things, do the same activities, or think the same thoughts. Dartmouth would be an uninspiring place if that were the case.
Given this, the mascot search has assumed far greater meaning than simply finding a logo. This is an opportunity for us to leave a mark. The classes of 1997 through 2000 can unite over something as seemingly mundane as a mascot to create something for Dartmouth that will endure long after we have graduated. Most of what we do here is temporal. As each class leaves and another enters, the significance of what we've done slips into the past. Yet we'll carry Dartmouth with us for the rest of our lives, whether we like it or not, in the friendships that we've cultivated here. They could tear down buildings and change the campus, but Dartmouth will live in our hearts every time we meet up with our college friends.
Check around to see what remains here from the past. Walking through the basement of the gym the other day, I stumbled on a janitors closet that was open. A metallic trophy and a framed picture caught my eye, so I peered inside. I found boxes stacked on boxes of trophies, team photos, old articles and magazines. The glory days of yesteryear were buried behind mops in the Alumni Gym cellar. Those material objects were insignificant -- the true memories dwell in the souls of those who created them.
I would be surprised if anyone here hopes that raising their voice in unison to vote for and implement a mascot is the way they'll be remembered. This isn't about personal achievement. Years from now, should we successfully do this, no one will really care how and when it started. More importantly, they'll come to associate it with Dartmouth and the Big Green. Old rituals die hard sometimes, for we all yearn to remember what came before us and uphold tradition. Sometimes, though, we must pioneer and do one of the hardest things: create new traditions.
