Fairmont State University - Mound Yearbook (Fairmont, WV)

Page 16 text:

Mountains don ' t always bring love at first sight It never occurred to me until recently that I could fall in love with a state. I never believed that West Virginia would mean any more to me than just being the home of my parents. As a matter of fact, when I moved to the mountainous terrain in scenic Tucker County at the age of 1 4, 1 hated it. I hated living in a town that was enclosed by hillside heaped upon hillside. I hated knowing that, no matter where I rode in a car, I would be carsick before I ever got there. But mostly, I hated not being able to see the sun rise or set beyond the ' true ' horizon; the mountains got in my way. Then I began catching myself enjoying the shelter that the strong mountains provided. I witnessed a kaleidoscope of autumn colors being unveiled in front of my eyes and each year the spectrum became more alive. Winter blues became enchanting artwork. Spring was no longer a ' rebirth ' but simply a changing of the artist ' s palette hues. And I enjoyed being able to take jeep rides along abandoned canyon rim roads, gazing for hours through deep green mountain-side forests at rocky, virgin streams in the gorge. There was always some place to go to be alone, and the going was never too far away. I learned to appreciate beauty I found in abandoned barns, weather-worn rail fences and wrinkled hillbilly faces. I ' ll always love West Virginia. I have roots here. I grew here. I fell in love here and am loved here. I have to love West Virginia because she has loved me. TOP: Rear view of Fine Arts Building. ABOVE: A section of campus wilderness. RIGHT: Morrow Hall. FAR RIGHT: Pink dogwood. OPPOSITE PAGE: A student in Jean Ward ' s hunting class. JULLkl kj Ld

Page 15 text:

When I became 1 9, 1 found myself in a tiny apartment in the city. I walked on concrete sidewalks, but dreamed of the footpaths through the hills ... I slept to the constant music of the traffic tieups, but I still heard the gentle summer rains. I walked the streets in the shadow of towering steel and glass buildings and inhaled the soot and fumes, but I concentrated on the smell of an October morning when the trees had turned the countryside into a patchwork quilt. Then I remembered my grandmother sitting on that swing, listening to the early evening sounds, crocheting and saying, God has been good to us. We are fortunate to live our lives in such beauty. The hills called me home. When I turned 22, 1 sat alone on the yellow swing, listening to the frogs in the distant dusk. I watched my nephew run down from the hill carrying a baby bird that had fallen from its nest. As he breathlessly told me about the act of nature he had witnessed, I saw a look in his eyes that took me back a few years. God has been good to us . . . I thought. Mike, I said, enjoy it.

Page 17 text:

■M- 1 • I . 1 lip ■ ■■ - ' IIP ■H