During my time at Williams I was often surprised by how limited the institutional memory of students, myself included, could be. Because much of what we knew about our school was what we had witnessed, I wondered if we were leaving with only a thin, blurry concept of the world we’d been so fortunate to inhabit. Then a story like “One More Huddle” (September 2011) comes along. Reading about how Mike Reily’s ’64 retired number cropped up in a grubby box in Cole Field House nearly 50 years after his death, kindling a reunion among his dispersed classmates, I was struck: What an unexpected reminder that, even if as students we were too distracted by the demands of the day to notice, we walked among what legends left behind. Packed in among the accoutrements of the everyday are signs, like Mike’s jerseys, of lives well lived. I’d look forward to reading more stories like this that rise from the college’s dusty corners, reminding us of Williams at its best.
Amanda Korman ’10, Pittsfield, Mass.

Mike Reily ’64 was the president of Alpha Delta Phi when I joined and when he was clearly ill. I was unfortunate that I did not get to know him better; nonetheless I was impressed that he carried himself with quiet dignity. I want to share the information that Hodgkin’s disease is today highly curable in greater than 80 percent of the cases. The overwhelming likelihood is that today Mike would have been cured to go on to play further games and live a full life.
David Harrison ’66, M.D., Loomis, Calif