campus character Rowan Morris decodes his unique dialect Make way for the Duke of Darties

Author: Tess Russell

If I did not know Rowan Morris, I might be surprised by his unconventional tennis vocabulary. Right before our interview, tied at 40-40 on the Atwater courts, he called the score as "Düsseldorf." On the next point, after ceding the advantage to his opponent, he yelled that he needed to "harness [his] chi" before serving the ball.

"You can put whatever you want in the article," he said, "as long as you don't mention how bad I am at tennis."

The "About Me" section of Morris' 'Facebook profile - which reads "Work hard, play hard" - is a fitting testament to what can only be described as a positively bimodal existence. As a lifelong student in the school of "Play hard, play slightly less hard," I am understandably both impressed and mystified by the ease with which the Great Barrington, Mass.-native switches back and forth between Jekyll and Hyde.

The first Rowan is the one you will pass on College Street during class hours. He is a stellar student, secretary/treasurer of the Student Investments Club, a phone-a-thon volunteer and an enthusiastic participant in intramural sports.

In stark contrast to that cordial but focused persona lies the weekend warrior who earned the title "Duke of Darties" when he introduced himself as such to the parents of a fellow senior (Morris was standing on top of a table at the time).

In case you are unfamiliar with the term, a "darty" is not dissimilar from a party, except that it happens during the daylight hours and is thus exponentially more fun. Morris picked up the term from a friend and (as far as my extensive research shows) has been the driving force behind a lexicographical epidemic here at Middlebury that has also spawned the closely related forms "marty," "narty" and - my personal favorite -?"Sundarty." (I'll let you figure those ones out for yourselves.)

Indeed, when he finds an expression or - more notably - a nickname that he likes, Morris devotes himself fully to its proliferation. Just ask former suitemates Nate "The Snake" Randall '08.

A YouTube enthusiast, Morris gleans many of his preferred phrases from the site, though he has occasionally found the free videos to be a source of anxiety. Recently, after watching a bizarre, insect-themed BBC story, he expounded on one of his biggest worries - that termites would eat his entire life savings.

Morris also claims to suffer from "birchphobia," which made the arboreal setting of his J-term moose tracking class a difficult adjustment. While he did not encounter any Alces alces, he did come into contact with a great deal of gallflies and larvae during the "very academic" course, which he took with his former Hotchkiss classmate Cameron Waldman '08 (otherwise known as "Rhonda the Anaconda.")

If Morris' nicknames are nonsensical but hilarious, then his text messages are even more so. Send him a straightforward inquiry (e.g. When are you going over to Pub Night?) and you will likely be met with replies ranging from "Grouse!" to "Dirty Dunkaroos?" to "Warm up my dunch."

As much as his colorful language, it is Morris' spontaneity that earns him the title of Duke. Over February break, he and Beslan Visambiev '08 were on their way to Boston when they noticed an inordinate number of cars getting off the road near Dartmouth. Never ones to turn down a social opportunity, they joined the procession and, ultimately, the party. (Visambiev, Morris told me, impressed the local ladies by telling them he had "climbed Candy Mountain with the leopluridon.")

After graduation, Morris will continue his string of adventures on a truly grand scale, traveling to China with his family and then meeting up with friends in Thailand, Egypt and Greece. His enthusiasm for daytime fun will certainly be hard for any successor to match, but it is his other qualities that will be missed by Jake Liberman '09, who called Morris "the most thoughtful, loving and tender roommate one could ever ask for."

For what it is worth, he also has a pretty sick backhand lob.