Moravian Greyhound family and friends,

Some things you don’t fully understand until you live them.

I attended Moravian as a student. I sat in those classrooms, walked that campus, and came away shaped by faculty who genuinely cared—people who treated education as transformative rather than transactional. I knew Moravian was a great institution. What I didn’t know was how it would feel to watch my own children discover that for themselves.

All three of them have. My daughter Eliza graduated in 2022 with a degree in neuroscience and is now a physician assistant. My son, Hal, crossed the stage this spring with majors in history and Japanese, and minors in Spanish and business. And my youngest, Philippa, is currently in our nursing program.

Each of them found their own path, wrote their own verse—and each of them, I proudly say, surpassed their father academically.

There is a particular joy in this that is hard to put into words. You don’t hope your children will follow you somewhere. You hope they’ll find places that shape them the way the best places shaped you. When those turn out to be the same place, it means something very special.

That’s the Moravian story. It isn’t just a story about an institution—it’s a story about generations. About families who return because Moravian delivers on its promise, decade after decade, since 1742. About students who arrive and leave as something more: more capable, more curious, more connected to the world around them.

This issue of the magazine beautifully captures that theme—from the Driscoll family legacy embodied in Lily ’29 to Ryan Burke ’26 and his siblings, to Nicole Loyd’s powerful reflection on what it means to lead the next generation of Greyhounds.

I hope this issue reminds you, as it reminds me, why we’re all so proud to call this place our alma mater, or nourishing mother.

Sincerely,