Georgian Court University - Courtier Yearbook (Lakewood, NJ)

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4 'F Barbara Doti, the first president of the Class of '48. There is a certain time in life . . . When youth must disappear . . . And what is left of it is just . . . A dream of yesteryear . . . The dream of it is lonely and . . . The heart a little sad . . . Because of all the pleasures and . . . The friendliness it had . . . But that is how the How of life . . . Is poured into our cup . . . And we must taste and swallow it . . . As we are growing up . . . As WE hid good-bye to our beloved Georgian Court, we think again of the old familiar ways, the hours, and days that have made each of these four years so dear to our young hearts. We remember with sentiments saddened by the thoughts of leaving these hallowed walls, the big, and the little things that have contributed towards making us what we seniors are today. Class Twns the night before Christmas -At the Club. As once more the twilight shadows fall across a campus holding within its majestic gates in- destructable ideals, traditions, and friendships, we ponder on familiar memories of the little things that have accompanied our walk towards the top of a high hill. As we, the Class of 1948, stand on the summit of this high hill, we look around us, and see the steps of our climb, the days of our ascent, and the fond memories, that can never be erased from our hearts. Remember how it rained the first day we drove up to the sign reading, 'cGeorgian Court College for Young Ladiesn? Remember the moment we entered the door of the Mansiong the stately beauty of the Foyer, the smiling wel- come of the Seniors, we hoped one day to be. And remember the hesitant eyes we cast at our room-mates, as we said good-bye to parents, and embarked on our own most fruitful phase of life? ' -9 - , X if Y V P , ,J i in A stroll-one sunny Sunday afternoon. i.. ij P .lanet Rush studied out-of- doors but was easily dis- F1 trncted when Rita Ryan -' 1 appeared. A gk 1 X. ,w,. il, iii? Winter found Gloria Stearns, Mary June Burr and Dee Gross- mann identically hooded to meet the elements. Fran Hennessey was receiving those Special Del1very's from Boston even as a freshman.

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History Flo Wenczel enjoyed showing Pitu Balbas what winter was really like. Jeanne Ward directed us Our big sisters were the most exuherant class of all. For years to come, Hln the Evening, by the Moonlight will convey us back once again to moments shared with this melodic happy class. The strangeness was soon replaced, by a feeling, of belonging, a feeling of being part of a large home, a feeling that we could never quite explain but one that was, nevertheless, always present, and in the days to come that we would remember with fond nostalgia. Kingseote, East and West Wings, Mercedes and the Casino found haven for the largest class in Georgian Court History. Found haven too, for our initia- tion day clothes, our plaid skirts, turnabout coats, and blue and yellow stockings. And then, in the solemn hush of the Mansion Foyer, we became Courticrsg we, proudly and a little frightencdly, descended the marble staircase . . . black gowns, white collars, black shoes, and white gloves . . . and that shy feeling of awe, mingled with happy pride, as our big sisters placed our lll0l'til!'lJ02ll'l'lS on us and introduced us to Mother Mary John. The old familiar way became our way as we traveled the paths of freshman year . . . as we through Sophomore year learned to love the ideals of our college, the traditions of Christmas week festivities, of class presentations, of fun and fairness in sports, of our first New York dance, our St. Patrick's play, which successfully introduced us to the Student Body. As Freshmen, we selected Barbara Doti to lead our class through its infant year. The semester exams seemed like the tolling of death knell to us, but after they were over, we gave way to preparation for Musicale. Wlien the day for this event finally dawned, we, were proud to have been a part of this great tradition of Georgian Court. And then, in May, of this our first year, MV. E. day occured, and as the hours of this day ticked away, we were silent remembering, thanking God, and in our hearts not forgetting those, wl1o could never again share our joy of the little things, those who could never again dance with us at our promsg those who would never know how wonderful it was to look ahead, but, somehow we knew, that wherever they were with God, they could share our thoughts. At last June came, and as the sun smiled on fields of green and made the sky into a blue Our photographer found this group relaxing 'mid the leaves of the golf course. lgsi 11 I A Anne Pisani, Rosemary Quigley and Weekends at Scituate . Lois Driscoll plan one of many week- were always fun. ends in Boston. Toni Laneri wasn't too happy when she found she would have to drive home in the snow. W