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

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Dave Rifkind Palestra. God certainly had a nice day when he set the plans in motion to build it. As far as my other roommate was concerned, the less said about him, the better. He was the kind of a guy who for fun would heckle a telethon. Roommates, The White House, the lessons we learned day in day out. Thank heaven for those good times. Oh, college certainly was no bed of roses all the time. Falling in love means also falling out of love as well. Studying for finals was certainly no picnic, and those times when we swallowed exams whole are not pleasant throughts at all. But everytime we thought we were never going to make it, we did. By the time you read this most of you will have been out of college 4 months. And you will realize that there were so many people you wanted to thank, but somehow never got around to doing. How about that maid who always cleaned your room no matter how filthy it was. (Wasn ' t it embarrassing the morning she found the remains of Jimmy Hoffa under your bed? And the dear thing never said a word.) How about that bank manager who waived the 10 day clearance for out of state checks so you could cash it in time to prevent your phone from being turned off. And how about that professor who three times gave you an extension on that econ paper. I’ve been a part of GW for a few years now and the saying the more things change, the more they stay the same is as true today as it was 7 years ago when I rushed out into the street for my first false alarm. Freshmen still come to town thinking they are going to conquer the world, sophomores still look down at freshmen, juniors continue to look forward to senior year, and seniors still yearn for those innocent, anx- iety filled days of freshman year. I miss those days, and someday you will too. 28

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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

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u John Hrastar 29