La Salle University - Explorer Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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grounds (a pumpkin replaces a crucifix; Diana Ross and Jimi Hendrix vie for superiority) or amicable residences (Tensor lamps shine on slide rules; mixers, three-dollar nights, and the upcoming season are discussed). But something ' s happening ... It is. Quietly at first, then louder, the students begin to be heard. Curfews are questioned, petitions are signed; c om- mittees are formed, meetings are held. And new things are planned for next year. Familiar faces now; familiar roles. Familiar, that is, in the context of the past year, but not of the previous fall . . . 230 faces; 230 goals? But wait: 227 faces; 222; 210. . . The parade goes past (St. Barbara ' s Day?). You step out, and watch it go past. They think they ' ve left you behind; but after they went by, you didn ' t stay there looking at them get farther away; you went on, too, but not in step. And every now and then you ' d see them, and walk along with them for a few paces, and see them still marching . . . Still marching? At a glance, the precision is remarkable. But since you fell out, you know what it ' s like, and see traces of it in each of the marching ones; step by step, no two feet fall ex- actly together. Each is in step with the others— and in step with himself. Curricula are planned, girls are checked out; Marx and Watts join Playboy on shelves . . . Call it walking, but it ' s still marching. A beat is a beat, 24

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S.A.T. ' s back; the guidance counselor: Now here ' s one I think you ' d like, I ' m pretty sure you ' d get in . . . Hey, I got ac- cepted! Where at? LaSalle, Where ' s that? I dunno . . . Philly ... ... La Salle was founded in 1863 by a group of brothers, priests, and laymen. The nucleus for the new college was the Academy conducted by the Christian Brothers as an adjunct to St. IVIichael ' s School . . . La Salle, La Salle, thy glory, thy triumphs we praise . . . Yeah, right. Sittin ' in the Quad, blowin ' them J ' s, Who could ' ve seen it in the good ole day ' s? Ah, the good ole days . . . On that fine fall afternoon, 230 young Christian men, await- ing their official entry into an institution . . . stood outside the dorms with parents, girlfriends, and luggage, checking each other out. (Wonder what kinda smack I ' m gonna get for a room- mate?) 230 students, 230 ties. (Shit, I gotta get a new pair a wingtips!) 230 students; 230 crucifixes await within. (They make ya go ta Mass here?) 230 students; 230 . . . Beanies? . . . 230 students; 1,150 salmon cards . . . Time marches on, and so do 230 cadets; the smell of Brasso mingles with those of Sea- gram ' s 7 and . . . (What ' s that? Incense? ) Midterms; the lounge was pinochle, Laugh-In, The Smothers - Brothers, and Mission Impossible: the rooms were mild battle- W Jk h Ju , 23

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whether somewhat shared with others or not. And every now and then you ' d still catch a glimpse of them in another street, and their beat was different now, but they still shared it. Or you ' d catch a glimpse of another like yourself, and you shared, not sharing. And the feet keep falling around you and behind you; and there are times you want to rush to join them, and fall in, but you never do; you were with them once, and it was you who stepped out. And you think, Alright: or. Just wait: or, I blew it: but it started at La Salle. 25