Illinois College - Rig Yearbook (Jacksonville, IL)

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“The thrill and exhiliaration of going to get your mail is so much like that of a jungle exploration, your hopes build and build as you walk to that secret cave, you dial the combination, and you reap the benefits of your long arduous journey, ‘air’ mail.” - “Describe the last time you looked in your mailbox.” “Well, .. sharing a mailbox with Jon Althoff - surely you jest. | mean really - you’d think he was the president of IBM, and I was just a mouse living in the deep recess of the janitorial closet! Honestly, I’m glad I ordered Newsweek this year - I’d say I receive one piece of mail to his 495 daily! (Sorry, Jon - 495 is one of my favorite numbers - I admit I’m stretching the truth slightly!)”’ - Teresa Alred Luke Loy Live wien oe Mert) a

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[°4 OUIXe “Let the good times roll ...”’ So goes the song. — And this year the good times, the relaxing times, — were certainly there. Everything from toga parties — and rock-and roll 4-H dances to watching “All My | Children” and ‘‘Days of Our Lives” on T.V. offered a chance to relax. No one could ever say people at — I.C. don’t know how to have fun. There was music: you could turn on the stereo after class and just lay back, or you could wander down the hall to hear the guitar strumming of a friend, or listen to the Cramp- ton stereos on the quad or Turner stereos on Mound Street and in front of the union. There were parties: at the new dorms, in society halls, at the lake, uptown, and off-campus at such places as Stump’s, Travis’, or Terry’s. And there was plenty of spontaneous, just plain good old ‘people re- laxin’”’ fun. : : “What’s your favorite way to relax?” ‘‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock Roll jor Peace, Love, and Punk Rock. Of course these things should be idone with people whom you are personally acquainted.” - Buffy (McDaniel

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| “Hum, lunch looks yummy today. Greasy toasted cheese sandwiches, pressed turkey, runny egg salad, brown cauliflower and puffed corn. Looks like chili and cake for me today. “It’s 11:00 and time to get to work. Here they come, The I.C. food complain- ers. | | ‘Hey you, when are we gonna get real turkey to eat?’ | ‘This cauliflower is brown and cold. Do you honestly expect me to eat this?’ | |““Every day I’m bombarded by such complaints. Sometimes I just can’t take it jany longer especially when the food’s gone and the runner disappeared or jwhen the silverware’s out and I fall down in the dishroom trying to locate more | | “Take back trays, clean off food, scrub the tables and push in the chairs. Yea! I’m finally done. All that for $2.47 an hour. Such is the life at Baxter Dining Hall!” - Kathy Karl Slowly I ease my sleeping toes down to the cold floor. : the grogginess (or is it the hangover?) out for good. | Hello world! I shut off the alarm clock before it wakes my roommate (who really is not a morning person), hop in the shower, give my teeth a once-over with Colgate and head over to a practically deserted Bax- ter. It’s another Monday morning. And another meal at Baxter. Oh, well, I suppose ‘students will always complain about the food ... but I bet even Charles Henry Rammelkamp never ate on campus! | grab my toast before it has a chance to shoot out over the red-checked tablecloth and onto | the floor. Then it’s out the door, and on to Sturte- vant. Ooohh, these eight o’clocks are killers. Especially at Sturtevant. If the knocking of the pipes doesn’t get to you those damn bees will. But even in my most irreverent moods I grudgingly admit that I.C. would not be the same without Sturtevant Hall. It is a landmark. An exam today. We all compare notes (‘‘When was the Lewis and Clark expedition?’’) and test our deci- dely un- photographic memories. As the bluebooks are distributed, I despairingly repeat all the facts | committed to memory the night before, and pray that questions miraculously will appear that will corre- spond - no matter how remotely - to the facts I so laboriously memorized. It’s 9:00 and with relief I leave Sturtevant and head for the Union (alias Caine Student Center) to seek solace in a donut, a cup of coffee, and later a hopeful- ly full mailbox. I wince at the chill and shake my head, trying to drive | a