Georgian Court University - Courtier Yearbook (Lakewood, NJ)

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o Our Parents... FOUR years ago, dear parents, your 'little girls' entered Georgian Court College, determined to make you proud of their achievements during their four years of college life. Today as we stand at the end of that road, we are more keenly aware of all that you have done for us, more deeply conscious of the sacrifices you have made to make our dreams a reality, less willing to dwell upon our own successes. It is in a spirit of humility and gratitude that we acknowledge these truths. By placing us within 'these hallowed walls' you have made it possihle for us to extend our knowledge, hroadcn our interests, develop our capacities, so that we may live more fully in the years to come. You have made it possible for us to possess an infallible measure, a Christian philosophy, by means of which we may discern true worth, and as a consequence, live more happily. These are treasures which we place ahove all earthly possessions, and which you, dear mothers and fathers, in your loving solicitude have bestowed upon your daugh ters. And so, armed with this incomparable heritage, may we go forth, zealous for 'thc honor of thy housc', loyal to the ideals which you and Alma Mater have always upheld. ln the years to come may the depth of our gratitude he evidenced hy the virtue and beauty of our lives. But today, may the breadth of our appreciation shine through these sincere, yet inadequate words, for this trihute is the loving expression of our thanks to you, dear mothers and fathers. 167

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9CfUI'Ql'S . . . Just Before You Go ONCE upon a time you were five years old going on six . . . or six going on seven. And then one special morning you awoke with excitement in your eyes. This was to be your first day in school. You were big now. You were old enough to have your very own pencils, and a pencil box, and a school bag, and a five cent composition book with lots and lots of pages. Your heart was pounding with tremendous importance. You left your house that morning, and the world outside was full of the September-something that breathed of A B C D E F G. You were actually, honest- and-truly walking to school. And everybody knew it! You were sure of that. Policemen, taxi drivers, streetcar conductors, strange l1ur- rying people, and especially four year old boys and girls fmere stay-at-home babies as com- pared with youl-all of them were staring at you in admiration. All of them were saying 4'Look! Sheis going to school. Then, just as you were about to walk into your classroom for the first time that morning, you heard a voice. The voice was familiar. The voice, strangely enough, had nothing to say about A B C D E F G. It had nothing to say about pencils and books. At this electric instant, when you were about to step across a threshold into a world of desks, and blackhoards, and chalk, the voice said simply: Be a good girlf' It was the voice of your mother. And the years passed. You are standing, now, on the stage in your cap and gown. You have the diploma in your hand. You are a college graduate. These are 168 REV. TIMOTHY J. MULVEY, 0.M.I RETREAT MASTER the last few moments you will spend with your classmates and teachers, and as the music of their voices blends with yours for the final farewell, there is a mixture of joy and pain in this departure. You have grown, indeed, for it has been a long time from that far September to this June. This, now, is the moment. You are ready to leave the stage. You will walk carefully, precisely. That is the way you prac- ticed it. You are moving slowly now. The eyes of those who love you are upon you. At this moment you are stepping from tl1e stage that is Georgian Court to the broader stage of the world. Classes, books, exams, regulations, vaca- tions, proms, math, essays-these are a blur of yesterdays. The tomorrows are even more of a blurg but they are mostly golden, you are thinking. You want a full and fruitful life. You want to be happy. And now there is this final instant, this last step that takes you out into the crowd, out among the people. A voice somewhere is speaking to you. By right, thc voice might say, 'LI have educated you. By right, it might say, MI have taught you the Arts and Sciencesf, It might speak like that and sound academic and full of the September-sobriety of ivy walls and quiet libraries. But not nowg for it is June. And, somehow, you are very little again. And in this breath of parting, a mother-hunger is reaching out to you. And it is forgetting pen- cils and books, and it is saying simply and lovingly: Be a good girl. It is the voice of your Alma Mater. 7' q, md ,frm9.