Sarah Lawrence College - Yearbook (Bronxville, NY)

Page 62 text:

SEPTEMBER 20: Nothing seems to have changed: Harry's at the Spoon ( good to see ya, doll ); Earnest is still here to keep us on our tip-toes; the Freshman advisees advise the ad- visers; the three courses we picked are filled up —and so are the tennis courts; Nina’s post-cight- thirty heart has grown no softer, although the medium eggs have, (Thank God!) . . . Oh, there are two changes: there are now dormitory rooms underneath the ground in Gilbert where they used to raise mushrooms, and I have a new ring:-----. Another year’s moss-gathering has begun. THERE WILL BE CHEST X-RAYS ON TUESDAY: NO PINS, HOOKS, EYES, OB SNAPS. (I’m all yours in buttons and bows.) You know there is no smoking in here?” (Nina, these mental blocks play havoc with my memory.) ... 1 he entertainmen. Committee, in the vigour of its youth, imported Columbia and Eordham for a square dance, prompted by some- one’s remarking: I wanta know more men!” (More than you'd wanta remember came.) “I should soy, my dear, that your problem is psycho-somatic. Tragedy?”, anyway? (But Mr. Fitzgerald, I thought a goat song was simply Baaaaaa”.) I DON’T WANT TO FRIGHTEN YOU GIRLS: BUT ONE OF THE STUDENTS II s COMI DOWN WITH I 111. ll sl is. RI PORI TO Illi INFIRMA BY AT THE FIBS I SIGN OF A RASH. (Good grief! Suppose this isti't acne!) Ars Longa Perkins began the Scholarship Drive with a card party and an empty house; and Mr. Lautcr- bach showed a fdm called “The World Is Rich.” O unworldly SLC! . . . Well, for I leaven’s sake: look what Bryan Green has done! . . . They’ve given up trying to decide whether the Sales- man’s Death is tragic; new problem: “What is An Athletic event! Gilbert, abetted by Mr. Bab- ban (out of uniform) vs. MacCracken: volley- ball. MacCracken had two ringers; Gilbert won a moral victory . . . Hallowe’en: leaky milk- straws, cider, and a body that got itself out on a limb. The Freshmen roused our curiosity with enigmatic little signs, and then satisfied it with their show: Somebody’s Always Looking”, an interpretation (whimsical) of John Dewey’s fair-haired girls. Grande finale: We are as arty as pictures by Rembrandt We are as nutty as butter pecan All the ivorld thinks xve are hioh-powered drinks And a menace to civilized man. (The tune was rather familiar.) Buses came and went one night early in De- cember, full of girls in heavy black skirts;— something about a chorus concert.

Page 61 text:

57 Summary

Page 63 text:

Another trifoliate course has been opened for us: generally, to be characterized by the new word CLEAN. Division A deals with that roily ulcer-bed, the dining-room: herein one is battered through the kitchen to witness the endless life-and-death struggle between the cooks, to be galvanized by the blood-curdling shrieks of the dish-washer: “Over heRE! ”; one is obliged to play the role of a pendulous vulture, and to realize with horror that the hands, at the end of a week’s plate-snatching, become un- controllable. self-motivating birds of prey. Di- vision B is less wearing: the community is its concern. (How we ramify into zillions of abilities here! Once it took me half an hour and a broom to sweep the hall; now live min- utes’ mopping does it. I think the air is getting cleaner, or something.) Division C: the room. Closer to the floor, one comes to know all the dusts: the feathery little individuals, the less independent colonies, and dust condensed to grime. Oh much-lamented maids! my knees threaten to give out; and where will cleanliness be then, poor thing? Hidden underneath the ring around the tub. But we have survived such drudgery; life is embellished by other things: psychology films are a pleasant diversion, if only because of their titles and sequence: “Life With Baby”, “Over- dependency”, “Feeling of Rejection”, “Grief” . . . And then “Cat in the Puzzle Box . (It’s Dust we are, to dust returneth—” “Ours not to reason why— become more obvious why Betty Bennett calls those volumes about psychology “bug books.”); and as for more legitimate drama: “Juno and the Paycock”. December may not have been a winter wonderland, but surc’n I’m after thin kin' 1 saw one too many leprechauns dart- ing around corners, and “darlin” is not such a darlin’ word any more, Joxer Daly! Worksheets and a prom before Christmas vaca- tion: the one attended to with universal lack of enthusiasm; the other attended by some, and cursed by a great many others whom the din kept awake . . . Beau geste before the mass exo- dus made by Miss Weismantel: the Christmas Dinner. If only Charlie Dickens had been there: Boar’s I lead, Apple, Plum Pudding, and all. (But shades of Scrooge! They sat like miser’s gold, untasted.) The Scholarship Committee descended with another money-making scheme: If you bought tickets you could answer ques- tions. Who was Emmeline? Miss Milligan guessed Emmeline was an erstwhile resident of Sheffield: a cow. Miss Milligan won a pink shirt. (Mr. Martinelli made a very vivant tableau as he ate six pieces of pumpkin pie.) . . . The Chorus finally performed at home that night!