Dominican College of San Rafael - Firebrand Yearbook (San Rafael, CA)

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BERTRAND 1965--A HAPPY MEMORY fwrizten for Bertrandfs goodbye partyf, May 19662 Bertrand was a new beginning. ln a way it was a lonely beginning. The loneliness was felt through 47 girls crowd- ed in a room. It was felt above the screaming, through the smoke. It was felt because this wasn't what we expected- this simply wasn't college, or so we thought on August 30. Why do the lights have to be out at l0:30? Why no ca- pris? Study-from 7:30-9:30? What, or should we say, who, was the immovable force who prevented any ex- ceptions? Sister Marie Jeannette, O.P. ran Bertrand Hall, the place we could not quite accept then. Why no walls, Sister? Aren't we paying just as much as the Meadow- lands girls, or even the Pennafort girls, for that matter? In this early stage we really thought walls would make a difference--walls were a part of the college hoarding we had heard about. Schedules grasped tightly in hand, we passed the first few days almost alone--only accented by an occasional forced, overly polite uhello, where are you from? It was so obvious that the lounge was a camouflaged class- room. ln this lounge there didn't seem to be the strained uhi, where-are-you-from atteniptsg it was more or less the hi, where-are-you-going-next-year? idea. lied pen in hand, we marked and poured over our trusty little handbooks at that first housemeeting under the direction of Sister Jeannette. After listening intently to Sister laying down the law for a hall hour, we left the lounge scared to death. I think this was the night we I75

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FLIGHT fOn the death of a professional iceskaterj Sweet bird of youth, your passage short and swift Was talent's gay and brilliant gift of death. Your silver wings fell silent, without lift, And gored the earth-a bright and fiery cleft. Kaleidoscope of blue and orange light, Now gray and dusty ashes without life, The mercy angels scorned you on that uightg No more the winged blades' competing strife! CYNTHIA MOBRAATEN I74

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all filed to our rooms with the minimum of noise-save only the 4'under-the-breath comments such as: this is sure going to be one ........ of a year, 44. . . slave driver . . . , I can't wait to get out of here. As the days and early weeks passed we were either getting numb to the place or we were 'Ladjustingv-I really don,t know which it was. But things began looking a little brighter. Bertrand wasn't the Hilton, but it wasn't quite the dump it was August 29 either. Personalities began taking shape. Shels the one who gets all the phone calls. She's a debutante. She's the one who's nuts about campfire girls. She's the one thatis always in trouble. Shels always got a date. She never has a date, etc., etc. Conversa- tions began getting a little broader than HI hate it here, don't you? As the weeks turned to months, we learned a lot about getting along with all different kinds of person- alities. Sister Jeannette was taking on a different light too. Before we knew it, We were leaving for Thanksgiving, and then came finals and Christmas. Joan Walsh Anglund says that Christmas is a blessed time . . . of love. I think that we could feel the truth in this statement at Bertrand during Christmas time. We felt close then. Close in lots of ways. Remember that night we sat in the lounge making Bertrand a home-adding the spirit of a Christmas tree. That ghastly looking tree helped make Christmas a blessed time at Bertrand-a blessed time of love. If anyone had told us on August 29 that we would be excited about returning to Bertrand after Christmas va- cation, we would have said they were nuts! But nuts or I76