I came to appreciate Hanover High School’s athletic director, Mike Jackson, before my own kids even hit high school. It was a boys playoff hockey game in Manchester and a group of Hanover High boys in the stands were behaving like, well, boys. I watched as Jackson, with his imposing presence, casually, calmly made his way over to sit down in their midst. I waited for the guacamole to hit the fan. But it didn’t. He sat there comfortably, as one of the boys, apparently discussing the game (among other things). When he left, his calming effect lingered. I was flabbergasted.
In the years that followed, as my kids went through the high school, I continued to be impressed by Jackson’s soft touch and the commitment, passion and empathy he had for students, sports and education. He seemed to be at every game. He seemed to take every challenge head-on and always — always — with a reasoned calm. In a world where it’s easier to say no and avoid the possible pitfalls, his first response would be, let’s see if we can make this work.
Hanover has been fortunate to have had Jackson’s clear but subtle hand on the wheel. His guidance by example lives in the students he has touched — ripples that will positively wash many shores for many years to come. Yes, the Jackson Effect will continue to linger.
Jeff Hastings
Hanover
A U.S. ambassador was killed in Benghazi, Libya. Congressional committees convened to find fault. A secretary of state with presidential aspirations was singled out and her records were demanded. But because she sent emails using personal computers and services, rather than government-controlled hardware and channels, she was accused of an illegal and inexcusable breach of security. The committees demanded that FBI investigate. It did and found the secretary had been careless, but that this warranted no criminal charges. Try as they might, the committees and the FBI were never able to discover any secret messages, or to prove that they had ever existed.
The now-former secretary of state lost her bid to be president. The FBI director was sacked by the man who defeated her for deciding to upstage his superiors and make a statement that he could find nothing to prosecute. (The new president was displeased by this. He had claimed that his opponent was a criminal and wanted her put in jail.) But the new president himself was being investigated by the FBI, and that this was his reason for dismissing the FBI director. Later, he told his attorney general to conduct an internal investigation of the matter. His inspector general reported that yes, the director had been dismissed for going public with his decision not to recommend prosecution of the former secretary of state for using a private service to send emails, very carelessly, and against the rules. Consequently, the president claims exoneration from any and all charges that may someday be brought against him, finding in this report vindication for his claim to be the subject of a political witch hunt.
I get it. I think.
Tyler P. Harwell
Perkinsville
The subject of suicide has been much in the news lately. It is a tragedy for the person who chooses to leave this life, for anyone who cared for or depended on them, and for those who have to deal with the aftermath.
In my ponderings on the subject, it occurs to me that individual suicides and mass shootings have something in common. Most mass shooters don’t really expect to survive the event; therefore, it’s a form of suicide. It is a suicide mixed with a desire for revenge or for a weird sort of fame, or both.
Obviously, the availability of guns makes it easier to conduct these activities. Given your newspaper’s general viewpoints, I’m surprised that the Sunday Valley News editorial failed to mention this (“Tragic Times: Suicide Report’s Troubling Findings,” June 17). However, it is easy to conduct a suicide or mass casualty event by myriad other readily available means.
What can we do about this? Efforts by gun store operators, psychologists, school personnel and others to identify at-risk people and limit their access to guns have a place. We also need to look at the role of anti-depressants, which evidently, in some cases, may help the person to feel strong enough to carry out their impulse. Also, we can investigate the dominant theme of revenge in much of our so-called entertainment. It is shown as being cool, accessible and righteous, and it may even be a motivation in some individual suicides.
It’s kind of hard to investigate the motivations behind a successful suicide, especially those with guns, which seldom fail. However, it seems that a lot of mass shooters are caught and are behind bars. By all means, study them thoroughly and relentlessly. The government no longer prohibits that.
Peter Magoon
Enfield
I went to Lou’s Restaurant & Bakery for poached eggs and hash. The Dartmouth College student at the next table was complaining that a prospective employer hadn’t been deferential enough toward her during her job interview. And no “safe space” nearby, apparently.
“For grit,” I thought, “try emulating Lou’s waitstaff … or maybe Hannah Mudgett.”
In his 1845 History of Gilmanton, Daniel Lancaster, tells us that Hannah Mudgett was the first white woman to settle there, arriving on Dec. 26, 1761. Using snowshoes, she and her husband trudged 12 miles through deep woods and very deep snow from Epsom, N.H. According to Lancaster, “Mrs. Mudgett … became exceedingly wearied long before they reached camp and often halted to rest. At length when about a mile from the end of her journey, she came to the conclusion that she could go no further, and sat down upon the cold snow saying to her husband, ‘I may as well die here as anywhere; if I attempt to go farther it will kill me and if I stop here I shall but die.’
“We can but faintly imagine the feelings,” Lancaster continued, “which possessed their bosoms at this moment. In the waste howling wilderness, separated from all friends, who could assist them, by a many a weary mile traveled over, the shades of night now drawing around them and yet at an oppressive distance from the poor shelter which had been provided for their accommodation.”
Mudgett eventually rallied. The two completed their journey.
Hannah Mudgett, died at her son’s home in Meredith in 1834. She had lived to the age of 95.
From this and from snippets of other conversations overheard, it seems that pampered Dartmouth students could use some history lessons.
Paul Mirski
Enfield Center