College of William and Mary - Colonial Echo Yearbook (Williamsburg, VA)

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X ,I-'I -m,'.:. at 1 it Sf? .F rg' . r 56 t 4 Q ef-:Y ,f icontinued from page 7l spent our time wrestling far into the night with textbooks, and bitching about the workload to each other. Ah yes, sweet reality. And so the days unwound in typical workaholic fashion, highlighted here and there by frustrated screams in the night fespecially popular at Bryan Complex during read- ing periodl, and frenetic outbursts of drinking, dancing and silliness that occasionally broke the tension. Hunt and Tyler residents deserve applause for enduring the Pub and CC Ballroom fallout for the entire year. But as neurotic as life may have been, at least there was usually a comfortable rhythm beneath the chaos. No matter if the victim was freshman, grad student or professor, an eight o'clock class was still torture, a three-thirty one almost an obscenity. Football players, philo majors and janitors alike clutched their styrofoam coffee cups in the Wig. Day students and dorm dwell- ers battled for parking spaces. On Friday afternoons people flipped through the Flat Hat to see which idiot wrote the latest letter to the editor. And generally we kept on moving: through classes and studies, parties and procrastination, through meals at the caf and trips to High's, through group meetings, advisor conferences, through money at the Bookstore and time spent over typewriter or test tube or keypunch machine. Sure, life was simple. But no one said that simple meant easy. From the Outside In On one of those thick, moist September afternoons that made me wonder why l'd ever transplanted myself from up north, I had dug in under a tree in the Wren Yard to do some reading. That's a joke, of course, ev- eryone knows the real objects of study in the Wren Cars rest in the parking lot at IBT before heading a mile back to campus in the morning. Bright days bring sun worshippers out to the local beach at Soror- ity Court. Morning fog obscures the vista down Duke of Gloucester IDOGI Street from College Corner. Il ists for the best reason of all: they reminded me how lucky I was to be here. ' Yard are the passers-by. Especially if they were tourists. Most choice were the fully-bedecked models, complete with camera around neck and tour-number tag around coat button. Although screaming hordes of fifth graders in pressed-felt tricorns were kind of good too. Guess it's all a matter of taste. If nothing else, they're another top- ff ,f Meeting outside the campus post office, two friends stop to talk be- tween Tuesday-Thursday classes. ic of conversation besides the lousy social life, the killer schoolwork and the occasionally psychotic professors. But I came to appreciate tourists for the best reason of all: they reminded me how lucky I was to be here. Not that I didn't work hard, and pay my way, and abso- lutely detest the place at times. Because, especially at those times, it was simple to forget how breathtakingly lovely the campus is. Or forget how romantic the fanta- sy-like timelessness of the atmosphere is. Or forget how special this collection of brilliant people that surrounded me here everyday is, in those places tourists come from. Introduction 191 But I came to appreciate tour-' Q.-...R ,A W. I r I I ' eg' A. WT .. T Eg. ' Q. A., Ties.: 1-3 .- f.,..' gg-hx 4 .W TW f O

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1- l I l l l Big time exposure . . . to drugs, sex and booze, to money, laundry and cooking, . . . changed your parents' child . into someone different than that person they were so proud of at high school graduation. is more than simpl turning the pages I I Ithough at certain times of the year it might not seem so. Something so simple, so basic, that to be nore than subconciously aware of it was a real struggle. jhe concious memories are fragmentary, disjoint. But here's a pattern there all right. Even if repetition was pe only one you could see. j Facts of Life l Take away the books from this place, and what's lft? Quite a bit, really. Like the real life experience of ialancing the checkbook for the first time lor not bal- jncing it, as the case may bel. Or tests of adaptability: lan you sleep when the Iight's still on and the typewrit- r's clicking away? Not to target the ever-popular lorm-wide psychology ses- ljons held to keep a friend ll'om jumping, or lansfering. College spanned that making, shuddering shift in jear from childhood to ma- lirity. Well, that's not com- letely true anymore, na- bnally, thousands of older lmericans are returning to lihool and reweaving the jbric of the campus. j W8fM, however, is still lasically the home of just- 'egal pets, like the cat on OD's third floor, live as honored guests in limerous campus housing facilities, 'lin unidentified Tri-Delt pledge endures some rather unusual treat- 'ji ent from her new big sister during clue week. post-secondary school refugees. But after one year, or four, we're not that young any more. Big time exposure to responsibility and consequences, to drugs, sex and booze, to money, laundry and cooking, to love, hate and apathy have changed your parent's child into some- one different than that person they were so proud of at high school graduation. The process is, obviously enough, a gradual and indi- vidual thing. My own experiences have been traumatic sometimes, but more often just funny. Guess I'm lucky. But whatever the outcome, the living, and the growing, were a simple bond between us. Social Graces Cultivating a little suavite was always high on my list of things to do at college. I wondered how far I'd got- ten the other night as I leaned over a vodka gimlet the Greenleaf. The 'Leaf is not the McDonald's of bars, I have sat there for hours without being disturbed by the management. But on this particular evening the joint, in a word, was jump- ing. Classic Stones blasted through the mesh of plants and cigarette smoke, blocking group conversa- tion, But the stock in trade is intimacy, after all. , About a hundred people Icontinued on next pagel Living f II