“Freshman View”: Homecoming

Alexander C. Barrow, Associate Editor

The homecoming bonfire is one of Dartmouth’s most significant traditions for freshmen. Witnessing the colossal, oddly shaped, wooden tower take shape by Friday morning heightened my initial enthusiasm. However, my participation in the custom of circling the towering flames left me somewhat underwhelmed. Yet, amidst this unconventional ritual, I managed to find some humor.

The notion of “touching the fire” became a source of ongoing amusement in the days leading up to the bonfire and as I carefully navigated the perimeter. I found it especially humorous that a school full of America’s brightest students would need multiple emails warning them to not jump the two layers of fencing.

It wasn’t until I made my circular journey around the bonfire that I heard the cheers of students. Initially, I perceived these cheers as a unifying gesture to embrace the incoming Class of 2027 and welcome it into the Dartmouth community. However, these cheers weren’t all supportive—there were exclamations urging individuals to touch the fire. Fortunately, these words of encouragement proved fruitless. 

Perhaps next year, when the Class of 2028 takes our place, we’ll witness some freshmen avail themselves of that unique Dartmouth tradition: touching the fire.

Hailey N. King, Associate Editor

Homecoming, for the freshmen, brought a new lens to the storied traditions of Dartmouth. In the pouring rain and blowing wind, we, the Class of 2027, joined the parade and took our lap around the fire while the upperclassmen and alumni continued their tradition of shouting, “Touch the fire!” 

Some may gawk at the bureaucracy of it all with guards and fences. Perhaps the experience would have been more memorable or enjoyable without all of the extra guard rails. However, I would contend that the true power of the experience is the people who are a part of it. 

What made Homecoming important was being amongst friends, laughing, and trying not to let our house tattoos and glitter come off in the rain. The before- and after-parties showed me that the power of Homecoming lies not with the bonfire but with people coming together.

An Anonymous ’27

With several Twisted Teas making the gears of my brain turn, I feel qualified to formally assess my homecoming experience as a freshman. I heard the fabled tales about homecoming for many, many, weeks. I greatly looked forward to “officially” becoming a member of the Dartmouth student body. Unfortunately, rather than companionship and camaraderie, I was met only with drenching rain and the prospect of extended banishment to the Fayesment. 

My evening started at the infamous Cube, to which my UGA (the more humble term for “despot”) instructed us to report prior to walking to the Bonfire. Barred from retreat, I breathed a sigh of relief that I had pregamed beforehand.

After being incarcerated in the Cube for a grand total of 45 minutes (with only a meager few slices of pizza and the prospect of making contact with the notorious bonfire for comfort), the dreadful proposition dawned upon me that I might soon face sobriety. In a panic, I perused the room for sources of liquid sustenance. I noticed my roommate talking to his acquaintance from first-year trips; she cradled a bottle of some auspicious, golden concoction. I cautiously approached and requested a donation. She forcefully declined, asserting that her bottle contained naught but the sum of multiple juice boxes.

With clearheadedness impending, the UGAs soon announced that we would be marching to the bonfire. The lot of us conglomerated outside, waiting in anticipation for our proud trek towards the bonfire. Beneath the drenching rain, we soon realized that we would be partaking in a parade—yes, a parade!—which would span almost an hour, during which we would gruesomely collect all members of the Class of 2027 before we ourselves circled the bonfire. 

After trekking through the drenching rain, we arrived at the bonfire. I anticipated a fast-paced sprint around the fire during which rocks and empty Keystone cans would be hurled at us. Alas what followed was a leisurely stroll (at the behest of SNS) around the bonfire. 

Nothing was thrown at us from the upperclassmen, and any moments of lingering to enjoy the blaze were met with disapproving glances from SNS, who were on the lookout for any defectors who might dare attempt to touch the bonfire. 

Before I knew it, I had circled the fire, and it was over. While fire escaped my grasp that night, Fireball did not. I’m just kidding. I would never violate the hard alcohol ban, but I was far too proud of that line to not include it.