Fitchburg State University - Saxifrage Yearbook (Fitchburg, MA)

Page 5 text:

CRRE F S-im Shut up. (time for someone else to take your place. They ' ll be where you are soon enough) His last final. (it ' s been going on for a long time. Time is just up) As these last thoughts came to him, a door opened. A familiar face called his name. He sat down to talk. (a healthy person belongs to exactly where they are) College is over, who said anything about the party. — Michael Koykka -m ft ii l!

Page 4 text:

Whiteness blurred the faces of semi- strangers whose backs were turned to the wind. He lit a cigarette, anticipating the nicotine rush. It always put things into perspective. Something important just occurred. It was labeled The Last Final Exam in the file cabinet of his mind. Strange how his mind refused to attach any importance to this event. Gust another rite of passage, kid) Familiar buildings glided by. Memories clung to him like the heavy snowflakes. How many classes had he rushed into late, after an evening of excesses? It was always I ' ll worry about it tomorrow, never believing for one moment that there was such a thing. He took another drag, the smoke mingling with his winter exhalation. A stranger passed him. They would never know each other now. Caffeine. That would clear his thoughts. He opened the door to the Conlon building, shaking the snow off his shoes, his long coat, his hair. Inside, the Coke machine relinquished a can of soda. He sat down heavily. Brain cells awoke to the poison in his system and he focused all his attention on the burnin g stub in his hand. The entire four years flashed by in a blur of images. (let go) All those faces, all those names. Every fact or emotion seemed instantly available to him. This one moment would be imprinted with flashbulb clarity for the rest of his life. He drew a deep breath. He breathed in oneness, never wanting to exhale. This oneness was never even asked for; just offered naturally. He belonged to his surroundings, just as he was leaving. The halls echoed his sentiment. (sorry kid, the party ' s over)

Page 6 text:

The following contains excerpts from the Fall Convocation speech, delivered on September 24, 1987, by Peter Kristo. acting Senior Class President First, I would like to welcome the Class of 1988. It is my great pleasure and the pleasure of my fellow class officers to be elected to SGA by you. . , . The word Senior reminds me of a day of the week. Monday you are a Freshmen, Tuesday you are a Sophomore, Wednesday you are a Junior and Thursday you are a Senior. Friday means see you next year. ... It seems only yesterday when we were climbing those 6 — and sometimes 7 — flights of stairs at Russell Towers when we first moved in. Remember when we first moved in? Your fears! I wonder what my roommates will be like? Will I get along with them? . . . Will I get the top bunk? . . . Remember the cafeteria? Remember eating out and forgetting the cafeteria? . . . 6- Lobby is the place where people talk, sleep, and miss class together. G-Lobby is where you would check you mail box 6 or 7 times in the same hour. Remember those times when you received no mail for weeks? You were sure someone was stealing yours! ... The other day I heard a song. It was a catchy tune and had a profound chorus: I ' m doing all right. I ' m getting good grades. The future is bright. I gotta wear shades. We are an optimistic generation. We have our troubles. No generation has faced more turmoil in family life, more change in attitudes toward the rules of behavior than we. We have grown into adults during a v ,iJmM i mm it ■ I