San Jose State College - La Torre Yearbook (San Jose, CA)

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Commencement Week HOME, SWEET HOME, July 1, 1912. DEAREST BETSY, ' Well-it,s all over and itill never happen again as long as I live! Thatls just the trouble-it will never happen again! Oh, donit look so nonplussed. Of course, you don,t know What Pm talking about- you are not supposed to-yet! But just wait until youive read this letter, and reached my funny little scribbly signature and then youlll know. So patience, dear! . There, Iive taken a long breath and Pm much calmer. I really think I can talk rationally now. All that Chinese Puzzle of a first paragraph means that live been graduated from the S. J . N . Seand Pm a full-fledged teacher-see? , But it isnlt the fact that Pm a teacher that has so elated me. Its that last gay, whirling, maddening week! And now, whether you want to listen or not, Iim going to tell you all about it-every whit. So sit up and listen like the dear you are! I If you turn way, way back in your album to card No. 16 of the San J ose series I sent you, youlll find a picture of the Vendome Hotel. Well, thatls the setting for Monday night! And you can imagine what a stunning setting it would be with the great reception room all ablaze with light and abloom with San Jose roses! Its a great Alumni we have to give us a reception there, isnlt it? And, Betsy dear, when the music struck up and the sweet strains floated out, across that bower of roses I thought for a moment I was in Paradise. I guess I was, too, as near there as one could get on earth. Then Tuesday was J unior-Senior Day and we had dancing in the quad. You should have seen the crost upon crowds of people banked about in the corridors. And the way they applauded would have done your heart good! But then, how could they have helped applauding when so many graceful girls, all in white, were dancing out there in that dear old llquadll? The Alumni gave a ripping good vaudeville in the evening. Its really surprising the amount of talent that S. J . N. S. people, past and present, possess! They canit be beaten! I donlt care if you are going to a different school, Betsy, I simply canlt help telling the truth. But Wednesday night was a dreamaaone of those wide- awake dreams in which you keep pinching yourself to see if you really are awake. The corridors and llquad were all strung With lights and right out in the center of the liquad was a big centerpiecea-liS. J . N . S. 1912iL-a perfect blaze! At first all was dark, or nearly so, for there was only a Small moon-and the graduates, all in white, came dancing out into the Aliquad with lanterns. Of courseI was in it, and .couldnit tell much about the effect, and Dick might have been just flattering, but he said it was llweirdly beautiful? Those are his very words. Then we all sang ifBeautiful Moonlightil-and then, suddenly, the lights all blazed forth and the orchestra struck up ilDance, Ye Merry Wavelets. Well, Iill never forget that involuntary gasp of admiration that went up from the onlookers! And I donlt blame them either, do you? Well, after a few more songs and pretty dances our Class Night program was over and we met all

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Beth Baldwin Ethel Phelps Frances Chargin Mary Freeman Marjorie Buzzo Jennie Eichwald lone Boyd Aleta Corcoran Agnes Miller Mary floss Ellen Cox Clara Miller Ruth Bodenschatz. Anna Blauer Addie Coy 16 Mrs. Dickey

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our friends in the rooms of the lower fioor and served that now is a memory of soft whiteejust yards upon yards of it, faithful 01d steady, punch. and later, r011 upon roll of diplomas and Dr. Daileyis big Thursday, the Faculty gave us a reception and lots of us booming voice-and, oh yes, the sweetest songs I ever heard. girls could hardly keep from crying, because we hated to And then the dream broke up, and there was a Wild scramble think they wouldnit be our faculty any more andeand-oh and everyone was shaking my hand at once and congratulat- you know all I mean! ing me. But Dick didnit congratulate me. He just squeezed And now Pm nearing the end, dear Betsy. It happened my hand and said, iTll declare Mamie, I thought these two on Thursday evening. iiIt means gmduation. It seems years would nerve? end! like a dream nOW-some vague, far-off dream. All I have Your loving, MAMIE. Love-Haven MARY B. WILLIAMS. An old house With unpainted walls Where rambling roses kindly grow; A child with fluffy yellow hair Is chasing drifting petals there, Which vie With the fiaming afterglow, Or linnetis crown, that chirps and calls. A field of freshly furrowed 10am, Then shady lane Where cattle rest- A sound of feet on a rough-hewn floor, A love-croon floating through the door-- He catches the child unto his breast And enters the haven of love, his home.