Stanley & Rosemary Tarr

Thank you for the invitation to write my memoirs. You know, there is a bit of ham in risk managers. I accept.

First, let me comment on the job. The day your letter arrived, a front page story appeared in our local paper. It seems a lady dined at the Peacock Inn, a local pretentious, outrageously expensive restaurant. The parking valet, a Princeton student, caused $1,400 damage to her car. It was reported to the insurance agent. He later told the reporter it took three months to inspect the damage and authorize repairs. The company refused to pay rental car expense. She sued. The agent identified himself as the risk manager for Peacock. Can you imagine? What is in a title?

In retirement, I go to reunions. First, there was my 50th high school reunion in Oregon. For those of you who have not gone through this ordeal - beware. I shook the dust of Portland off my feet when I went off to college and the war, never to return. I had not seen any of these folks for 50 years. Can you imagine?

Then came the 50th reunion of my Army unit. It was much more nostalgic. Emotion ran high at the banquet at the University of Pennsylvania Faculty Club as we told our stories. One repeated comment was how good that we survived. We had all been plucked from Infantry training just when our friends were being air freighted to be replacements for casualties in the Ardennes Forest at what was the Battle of the Bulge. We 60 went to the university to study Japanese and, later, counterintelligence techniques. The other strain was gratitude for the GI Bill. Most of us had earned degrees, including professional and graduate degrees, and enjoyed very satisfying careers: a judge, two Los Angeles prosecutors, doctors, two State Department officers, a stay-in at CIA, and a partridge in a pear tree - one risk manager.

Speaking of degrees, I feel deep gratitude towards Philander Smith College, one of the small schools I assisted during my EIIA years. They awarded me an honorary Doctorate of Humane Letters. I cherish it - especially my colorful hood.

Then Genesis, the Bermuda captive, invited Rosemary and me to their observance of the 15th anniversary of its founding in Bermuda. I had been its organizing president and received a lovely watercolor.

Speaking of awards, our street is buzzing with the news that a neighbor three houses down won a prize from a Swiss foundation honoring his scholarship in his field of history of science. He retired from Princeton University a few years ago. The prize is one-third of a million dollars. He travels to Bern next month while we are visiting in London. Clearly, there are prizes - and then there are prizes.

While it may seem like I am forever running about enjoying myself, I protest that in fact I spend a day most weeks nailing and sawing for Habitat for Humanity in Trenton (so far without Jimmy Carter’s help). Tuesday is food packing day for Crisis Ministry. Then I serve on the Session of Nassau Presbyterian Church and on the Boards of Trenton Area Soup Kitchen and Family Service of Princeton.

My older son teaches in upper New York state. His two sons are both married to Japanese girls they met when they worked in Japan after college. One is at law school in Washington, and the other works for a Japanese equipment leaser in New York. My younger son is a lawyer here in Princeton, so we see his school-aged kids a lot at soccer practice, etc.

We also see Harry Riddell and Hester whenever we are both in town. However, we are at the foot of Barnegat Lighthouse in June and at Indian Shores, Florida, for January and February. Then Friday afternoons are reserved for the subscription concerts of the Philadelphia orchestra.

Mark my words: retirement is not half bad. Thank God for TIAA/CREF to fund it.