In the fall of 1966, when I was 17, I left home and went to Wellesley College. It was a pretty big step for a girl from a working-class home; I certainly didn’t fit the classic Wellesley image.
Dad ran a lathe making jet engine parts down at the GE plant, and Mom worked part-time as a nurse while us kids were still at home. I was able to go only through generous scholarships and loans and what I could earn for myself.
To be honest, I didn’t really understand the world I was entering. I was thrilled to be going to such a good college, filled with hope and excitement, plans and dreams.
I had no idea how rarified that world would be.
There was the contrast in socioeconomic status of course. The majority of Wellesley students back then were from wealthy homes very different from mine. But beyond that, there was the talent.
It was a shock to go from being a big fish in a very small pond to a very small fish in what seemed to be an ocean of brilliant, articulate and accomplished young women eager to learn and to take their place in the world.
The motto of Wellesley College is “Non Ministrari, Sed Ministrare.” Not to be ministered unto but to minister. The idea of service to others is deeply embedded in the Wellesley mission and deeply ingrained in her students. It is a lesson that never leaves you. Ever.
Wellesley students were caught up in the turbulence of the 1960s just like counterparts across the country. Civil rights, feminism, anti-war sentiment swirled around campus, blending with that mission of service to create a potent brew of activism.
It is against this backdrop that I first encountered Hillary Rodham.
She was a year ahead of me, and one of those impossibly talented big fish. Though I did not know her personally, I have admired her for nearly 50 years. Why? Because she embodied the kind of person I wanted to be: Smart, thoughtful, dedicated to making the world a better place, and genuinely concerned about those around her.
Faced with campus unrest, Hillary dug in and played a major role as a student leader, resolutely helping to guide the college through troubled waters in a way that resulted in positive and constructive change. She cared about our issues, and she made things happen.
As the first student commencement speaker ever, she laid aside her prepared speech and responded spontaneously to remarks delivered by Sen. Ed Brooke. Her fearless public defense of our generation’s activism before faculty, students and families has made her a legend in the annals of Wellesley College.
Tim Kaine noted recently that if you want to understand the character of someone in politics, you should look to see if they had a passion that began long before they were in office and have held onto throughout their career.
From the vantage point of 50 years of observation, I see Hillary’s character. I see a woman who was passionate about public service as a teenager, and who has spent her life ministering to the needs of others through whatever vehicle was available to her.
She has endured decades of attacks and smears. She has endured personal travails. She has faced down her critics and remained true to her beliefs in good times and in bad times. Frankly, I don’t know where her resilience and courage come from, but I admire those traits more than I can say.
Hillary’s resolve, her fidelity to her beliefs, her strength under fire, her unflappable capacity to rise and to prevail, her genuine interest in, and consistent efforts to better, the lives of those around her add up to one thing. This is the leader we need, the leader we can depend on, and the leader we can trust.
And that’s why I’m with her.
(Nancy Martland, a member of the Wellesley College Class of 1970, lives in Sugar Hill.)