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Remembering Prof. Ed Segel

The day after I heard the news about Prof. Ed Segal’s [history 1973–2011], death, I reached for my copy of the Reed magazine. It was perched precariously on top of a pile of books to be read just at the right moment, which turned out to be a cold fall morning. A sense of community seeped through the pages and the Reedie-ness distracted and enveloped me as I caught up on the comings and goings of our town.

Who knows when we will gather to remember those we have lost in these COVID times. Ed’s death coming on the heels of Paul Bragdon’s passing made me so very sad. Of course neither is a surprise given their ages, but it feels like the end of an era, definitely my era—the 1980s.

Beyond my time as a student listening to Ed lecture, he continued to be a strong presence on campus long after retiring. I could always count on seeing him with a twinkle in his eye and a witty retort as I scurried past, keeping the wheels on the bus at bustling alumni events.

I closed the magazine and tears flowed. I’m having a hard time imagining Reed without Ed; it will not be the same.

May your memory be a blessing, Professor. Mela Kunitz ’87 Portland, Oregon

Fellow Guardians of the Trees

I read with great interest and appreciation the review of Guardians of the Trees by Kinari Webb ’95. We are local supporters of Health in Harmony—the US headquarters is in Portland. We have met and/or hosted many of the principals of H in H—staff, board members, and Dr. Webb herself. This is an organization of committed, innovative, successful people. Supporting it improves human lives, saves habitat, and offsets global warming. You can get a lot of bang for your buck.

Most NGOs do their Good Works by working on problems that they have identified from afar. By contrast, H in H asks the local people what their issues are—health care often is at the top—and leverages that toward forest protection. Less logging is good for orangutans (where Kinari started) and protects tropical forests (the “lungs of the planet”), a major carbon sink.

The big question is whether “radical listening” (Kinari’s phrase) can work outside the Indonesian forests—they have started work in Madagascar and in Brazil—and whether it can be scaled up. Climate change problems tend to be big and diffuse, and radical listening is by nature local and specific. But it works . . .

I recommend that you look into Health in Harmony (healthinharmony.org) with checkbook at the ready.

Lee Littlewood ’68 Ann Parker Littlewood ’68

Lydgate Bids Farewell

After 13 years, editor of Reed Magazine moves on.

BY CHRIS LYDGATE ’90

To begin, to begin, how to begin? The blank page is a wily foe. In my days at Reed, I’ve faced it on hundreds, even thousands of occasions. Usually, all it takes is a glance at my wristwatch and a shot of espresso from the Paradox Café to kick me into gear.

Now the time has come to write my last editor’s letter. The blank page looms larger than ever; the ticking of the watch is a slow, relentless thud. I fill the empty space with promising ideas, but they lead nowhere. Perhaps I’m obsessing over the lede because I don’t want to say goodbye.

For the past 13 years, it’s been my honor to serve as editor of Reed Magazine. Together we’ve visited the sinister hells of ancient China and the radioactive ruins of Chernobyl. We’ve plumbed the paradoxes of Zeno and the vertiginous infinities of M.C. Escher. Discovered how the brain can learn to hear shapes. Pondered the birth of a new language, the sociology of sport, the siege of Vienna, and the sinister event horizon of a black hole.

We’ve wandered the pathways of campus in search of the Doyle Owl, the giant snowball, the sports car buried under the library. We’ve seen how Reed played a foundational role in the lives of so many students and alumni— both in the classroom and beyond. And yet I’m acutely conscious of the fact that we’ve barely scratched the surface.

I’ve loved being your editor—a deceptively simple term that contains multitudes, such as correspondent, conjuror, prospector, chaff sorter, cheerleader, stage manager, stuntdouble, mischief plotter, folk historian, and armchair psychologist. But it’s time for me to move on. I’m delighted to pass the baton to the illustrious English major Katie Pelletier ’03, who has done a sterling job editing features and Reediana for the last five years.

I can’t sign off without offering my heartfelt thanks to the amazing crew who have contributed so much to the magazine over the years: Katie, Tom Humphrey, Randall Barton, Joanne Hossack ’82, Robin Tovey ’97, Ginny Hancock ’62, and John Sheehy ’82.

Different people define Reed in their own way. To some, it’s an education. To some, it’s an adventure. To some, it’s an ideal. To me, first and foremost, it’s a community. I’m grateful to you—the alumni, professors, students, and staff of Reed College—who sustain and support this singular community. It has been an honor to write about you.

leah nash