Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts - Mohawk Yearbook (North Adams, MA)

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Ave Salve Vale! Hail, salutations, farewell! What a world of meaning can be read into this brief phrase. In these three short Latin words a whole lifetime could be summed up. Ave, Srzlve, Vale! If a person who was nearing the close of life should utter them, the emotion expressed in his voice might tell us the story of his life, of its heights and depths, its possible growth out of a fruitless, drab existence into a vital life, a life more rich, more abundant because of those heights and depths. We are still young, but surely in this same way the three years of college student's life might be elucidated by an interpretation of the words ''Hail-salutations-farewell1 For the junior class these words have a special significance. They have not merely been said by us, they have been lived vitally by us, in the sense that they express how we have felt during these past three years. We entered this college, and in so doing entered upon a new type of life. This was our Are! At first, perhaps, the answer to our bright Hail seemed just an echo, a reflection of our own thoughtlessly hopeful youth. We expected a cheery Salve in response. Perhaps some of us heard just the neutral echo, a sound devoid of significance, merely to be heard and forgotten, but most of us heard a sober note hinting of the struggles and difficulties to come. In it were undertones of disappointment as well as over-tones of hope and promise. We sensed a challenge and were unwill- ing to be happy on a minor note, to avoid the struggle, to miss the possible triumph of the full diapason of success. As we progressed in knowledge and education we knew the meaning of that Salve. It was the greeting of the present--the echo of the past-- a greeting to the joys and sorrows, the mistakes and achievements of our school life. We are all individuals. Our pasts have been different, our futures undoubtedly will be divergent ones, yet our presents are comparably sim- ilar. We came together from widely dissimilar communities and families, with varying educational background, but we all came for a common pur- pose, the securing of an education so that we in turn might transmit that education to others. In obtaining that goal we have shared for three years a wide variety of experiences which, although we have kept through them all the mould of our own individualities, have served as a mortar cementing us together. As graduation time draws near, that murmur of Saline seems to have risen to a peal of joy, joy in attaining a portion of our goal, joy because it is good to be young and to be the center of attention, joy in the praise of our parents and friends who are concerned with our progress. And mixed with that emotion is another one, harder to define, yet deeply felt. It seems to be an intermingling of curiosity and expectancy, of doubt and hope as to what the future holds. Indeed we hear another salutation, Vale, which is not merely a fare- well to the past, but hail to the future, for most of us to another year of college, to real attainment, to another year of life which will bring work and play, laughter and sorrow. Today is not a day for unhappiness. We graduate tomorrow-yes-but it is not the end of college. It is a spur rather to greater effort in the future. pugw llzirfy

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ADDRESS TO THE UPPERCLASSMEN The advice to the underclassmen I'm sure is gratefully received. But may I remind you that the misunderstood sophomores are no longer underclassrnen? We are about to enter the sacred realm of the upper- classmen. Even the freshmen's rank has been moved up a peg. In short, we are not so insignificant as we were in September. Only by the light of your guiding lantern, dear upperclassmen, has our path been pointed out to us. Had it not been for these shining examples would the sophomores know exactly how clean the city keeps the nooks and crannies of the post- oflice steps? Would the freshmen know exactly how many inches long Main Street is? By the way, Little things affect little minds. Perhaps Disraeli should have added a P. S. saying that this excludes upperclassmen. This would help us a great deal next year. Yes, upperclassmen, the path of life at college is life as life . You know, -just one happy song. But you optimistic lassies with your degrees within a stone's throw forget the ruts in this royal road to learning. Why bother with pessimistic ideas on a festive occasion like this? As you have said, life is no longer compared tritely to the well-known journey, that struggle, that climb, but there are still roads to be traveled. Modern traf- fic is confused and confusing, and we of the well known younger genera- tion are learning to drive safely and skillfully. We do not carry a torch. but we are at the wheel, whether it be in a Model T or Rolls-Royce. Betty Ncylund '38 CLASS SONG Oh Alma Mater, grand and dear, We'll soon leave your halls. We've spent happy hours here And now as we pause, Fond mem'ries come drifting Like clouds thru the sky, Conquests, dream 4, and ambitions And joys gone by. Farewell, dear Alma Mater, Our glad voices sing. With praises unending These cherished halls ring: And, as we pass onward, These joy-tinted days Will not lessen our feeling 'Tho rosy the way. . U Dm nth, Dupcll pugc fu'r'nfy-Him'

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To us, then, the word Vale does not mean an irrevocable farewell, for in the coming year there will begin again the cycle of Are, Salre, Vale. It will mean that again we shall meet new experiences. We shall discard them, or absorb and incorporate them, and go on living more fully, saying in our own way what Tennyson has so beautifully expressed: I am a part of all that I have met Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. Doris Chormrrl '37 IVY ADDRESS Let me tell you about John. He is a garage man, a mechanic. An ordinary man who fixes cars? Oh, no, not John. He is a genial German, generous in size and generous of heart, with a special gift for making friends. A few weeks ago I was grumbling to John about all the work we had to do up here, about the late hours we had to keep in preparing lessons for the training school, about the heartlessness of the teachers and about exams coming on. But you always go back, said John. If it's as bad as you say, why do you like it so well? If that question were put to anyone of the students here, each heart would hold the same answer to the question of why we are content here. That which was said to be the secret of Charles Kingsley's life is the secret of our happiness. When asked by Mrs. Browning what it was that made his life beautiful, Kingsley replied, I had a friend. There is noth- ing in life like friendship. It makes us strive for the best. It makes life beautiful and really worth living. At no time can a girl afford to be without a friend, especially when she is away at school. Each year she will have laughter and loveliness to share, and each year she will have tears to be dried, and so through cloud and sunshine she will be glad of someone to go hand in hand with during those four brief years. Several years ago a prize was offered for the best definition of a friend. The one which received the award was A friend is the person who comes in when every other person has gone out . It is only a friend who can penetrate the inmost feelings of a heart with her silent sympathy. The heartbreaks of youth can be understood only by a mother or by youth, and if mother is not there, it is all-important to have a friend near sy. Sometimes it's academic troubles, grades, deficiencies, perhaps a carefully planned lesson that is a failure in the training school. Again it may be personal relationships, when we have been hurt by, or hurt those with whom we work and play. These are the times when we are glad of that friend to whom we can open the locked doors of our hearts and re- ceive comfort for that soul aching and lonely. page flzfwfy-mir'