Bowling Green State University - Key Yearbook (Bowling Green, OH)

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A boy and a girl meet on the campus, fall in love, and become man and wife in beauti- ful little Prout Chapel, landmark in the heart of the campus. Strip away the frosting of college life JAAHAuux V bA---W

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.Vlg; .le .- .194! t t! A Sui ; as we know it We remember our introduction to Bowling Green, one long week of standing in endless lines, of being alternately confused, encouraged, de- pressed, and confident. We remember tense mo- ments of studying for a test, the suspense of waiting for the results. The sleepy buzz of flies, forming the background for a professor's lecture. W'e remember drawn-out bridge games in the lounge, mid-evening study breaks spent devour- ing the incomparable hamburgers at the corner hang-out. Late-at-night bull sessions probing into religion, philosophy, the meaning of life, or what to do tomorrow night. Getting up too early to work with numb fingers on Homecom- ing or Christmas decorations. We remember learning to know and like dorm mates, and more important, learning to know ourselves. Top: studying, bridge, and conversation take place simultaneously in the Delta Zeta lounge after hours. Center: Treadway Hall fresh- man co-eds pop corn in fellowship, happily adjusting to college life. Bottom: a couple studies over hamburgers in the Dairy Bar.

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I $5 eui-y-ou. Sewn. ' , Powell's Pond attracts ice-skaters in winter, dreamy couples in spring and fall. The shallow, artificial lake forms an oasis in the unbroken wintry white expanse of the golf course. Bells in the Practical Arts Bldg. tower marked the beginning and end of classes for a decade of students. They no longer strike the hour, now that classes have been re- scheduled to start on the halfrhour. We remember Bowling Green, too, for long stretches of gray, dismal days, for leaky skies, for monsoons-and monsoons. For cutting across the Practical rts Bldg. lawn in the many-hued Ohio October, ankle-deep in crisp, swishing leaves. For sitting on that same lawn on a cool spring evening, listening to the Concert Band sat- urate the fragrant air with music. We remember bitter January Winds, sweeping across the flat countryside; afternoon sunlight, mellowing and warming the yellow brick buildings. VVefve known breathless tennis games, skating on the bumpy ice of Powele Pond, long drives, long walks, long talks. Iths been good, this way of life.