George Washington University - Cherry Tree Yearbook (Washington, DC)

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early so you could come in fashionably late in the morning to impress your roomies, and pique their interest. Mo piece written on remembrances of college life at GW(J would be complete without a few words on the fingernails on the blackboard of life,” our room- mates. I ' ve never quite figured out how the university de- cides who rooms with who during our freshman year. 1 have a strange feeling that the Housing Office, after selecting the least compatible combinations, has an office pool to see which one moves out first. My first two roomies were Mark and Jim, respec- tively from Philadelphia and South Bend, Indiana. Being bom and raised in Mew York City, and a die- hard Knick, Ranger, Giant, and Yankee fan, you could hardly have imagined my surprise and dismay when 1 walked into room 71 1 to find a few walls covered with banners exalting the Flyers, 76ers, Eagles, and Phillies. 1 felt as if God was finally getting back at me for cheating on that English exam my junior year at Music and Art. Parochial as my views were to the world beyond the confines of the Mew York Metropolitan area, I never expected such a wel- Earle Kimel 26

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Dave Rifkind you climbed the iight-post outside the White House gate and risked arrest as you stole the flag of Zambia while holding your breath and the pole while what seemed as if every Park Police, Secret Service, and Metro patrol car c ircled the block. I know ! will never forget the two week span when my roommate nightly sprinkled marijuana seeds through the fence in the back. Ahhhh memories, those priceless moments that made college great. Long after you leave this univer- sity, I dare say you will remember more you learned about life outside the classroom, than from any lec- ture inside of one. Memories of college never published in a college brochure, or mentioned dur- ing a SARP visit, ho brochure ever taught you the dangers of yelling “Georgetown sucks!!!” while sit- ting in the Hoya cheering section at McDonough Arena. 1 never had a lecture that helped me. or any one of us. handle rejection in bar, after bar, after bar in Georgetown. And l didn ' t need to read a textbook to learn how to kill 2 hours after dropping a date off 25

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come. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks became months, I was force fed by Marc as to the utter invincibility of those teams. It seems like only yesterday that Marc sat on his bed and told me with utmost seriousness that no one, mind you — no one — ever spit out of their goalie mask better than Bemie Parent, or that the Sixers were finally going to take it all. I’m through waiting for that to happen. What was their motto this year — “We owe you 7”? (Another strange thing about people from Philadelphia is that I have yet to meet anyone who actually lives in that city. When pressed on the point they usually con- cede to residing in Cherry Hill or Trenton.) I could tolerate the remarks about Parent, and almost stom- ach the Sixer predictions, but I could not sit still for a moment the afternoon he made the passing remark that yeeech, Steve Mix, was a better ballplayer than my adolescent idol, Dave DeBusschere. Somehow I think in another life Marc was the lookout at Pearl Harbor. The only thing we ever agreed on was Philadelphia’s greatest gift to the athletic world, the Dave Rifkind 27