Sarah Lawrence College - Yearbook (Bronxville, NY)

Page 66 text:

Ha. say, “a time when the Students realize, en masse, that they have all the symptoms of mononucleo- sis and all the responsibilities of Atlas; a time when nothing remains but to forget these horri- ble facts in sleep . . .” And who can sleep with those worries preying on the mind . . . The Hits and Misses pulled a show together in record time, (encouraged and aided by an actor with a genius for punctuality.) ’Sworth—the new name for that self-conscious dormitory—had its usual avant garde and distorted view of the production: everything that went on backstage was old news to them by the time “Take a Number was ready for the public; but it looked quite different from the audience. L. Primo Canasta was the man whom crime payed, (final- ly!); Annie Williams was crazy with canaries; and there was a Groucho Marx-ish psychiatrist, whose patients attested; Were sold on freud With Dr. de Thoid Psychiatry can be fun. (Between that and the Cocktail Party , psy- chiatry seems to be taking over the theatre.) . . . Parents’ Day: they showed off to advantage, (and to our disadvantage), in class. And they didn’t even think the noon meal was strenuous! It’s not the younger generation that wears rose- colored glasses. Repercussion of their visit: one lather was so upset by the memory of Mr. Gregory’s holding conferences in a poorly con- verted coat-closet that he started a new fund . . . someday, no claustrophobia. “Take your hands off my libido, young man!'’ 62

Page 65 text:

A freudian Slip. speakers name: Swami Nikilananda; anyone with such a poetic name must have something important to say. What did he say?—I don't know; hut he had the most beautiful hands! . . . Amazing feat of imagination: Bates became a chapel for one fantastic half an hour, as televi- sion cameras recorded us marching to “Onward Christian Soldiers.” . . . Mr. Gregory paid his an- nual visit to the cafe and made a vast deduction: I am DELIGI ITED to see that the cafeteria has become a common meeting-ground for the students and faculty.” . . . The S.S. Scholarship Dinner: a horrible grinding sound and Bill Head’s much-magnified voice saying “NOW HEAR THIS!” (How could we help but hear it?) l ags on the silverware at our left hand: “Fork Over. (This is the first time they've asked us lor donations colloquially!)—and the Faculty show: a new singin' and dancin’ sensation in |. P. Birdbath: Three Little Maids From School: Esther, Margaret, and Alice B. Why should we be so introspectual? We’ll be completely ineffectual; (ringing despair) Sometimes a girl has feelings— (sotto voce) —which are not intellectual. Script-writer 11 ill’s directions. Why don't we all just move to Broadway? February began with a film to end all Friday night films, with the END OF REEL ONE coming in the usual critical spot: “Dead of Night.” I don’t think Charlie McCarthy's very funny any more ... I lard work was beginning to derange us a little. Announcement at dinner: There will be a meeting for all those interested in having a meeting at seven o'clock in the Em- ployees’ Lounge.” NOW YOU IIAVE A GOOD OPPORTUNI- TY TO REST UP. Interim week: . . . a week will be set aside early in February to enable Students to finish up back work . . . and, generally, to relax.” A most inaccurate generalization. They meant to You can't get a wan with a gun

Page 67 text:

Proportional representation. Mysterious busses came and went again, with the same heavy-skirted crew. Bach seems to have instigated this migration, judging from the shouts of “MAGNIFICAT” that preceded it. Our arch-rival, Bennington, appeared in the per- sons of two very couth and intelligent girls who spoke of Bennington’s “geographical drawbacks” —(and it takes us half a month’s allowance just to get to Stowe!)—but their “wild surroundings” didn't seem to have affected their erudition a whit. We're practically twins! . . . “Three Sisters —Joxer Daly, disguised as a Russian, with another deathless expression: “chikchik, chik- chik!” Busses, black skirts, shouts of “For God, for country, and for etc.” MacCracken did its stint toward money-raising for the Universal Cause: jewelry sale. We dis- covered our discarded bijoux looking suddenly magnificent on our friends. Well, we can always borrow . . . Remnants of the olden golden-days: two spruce equestriennes, chests ablaze with green ribands, leaving Wcstlands at sunrise to ride in the St. Patrick’s day parade . . . Spring vacation at last! We left while the metaphorical lion was still roaring and returned to find balmy breezes blowing. Some of us looked more anaemic than ever, and made frantic visits to MacCracken’s roof; but while the ex-Bermudans retained their bronze magnificence, we only got cold, or red. But, tanned limbs or no, the men- tal rigours continued: just see the drawn faces of those seven who must put all their Thoughts and Imaginings about the “Divine Comedy” into the cruel confines of a test—(a form of self- examination that has become distressingly preva- lent this year. Is progressiveness regressing here?) ... St. Joan was becoming more and more impassioned, striding up and down Nancy 1 lamburger’s France; you could hear her shout- ing, I am AFRAID to die”, almost every afternoon at four . . . Bronxville was becoming curiouscr and curiouser about the recurrent ap- pearance of the Diaper Service truck at Perkins; the Bendixes were rather startled, too, having tiny dresses to contend with in lieu of the usual blue jeans. The answer: Mitzi is getting her degree. (Mrs. McIntosh was right: she answered her own question with “Yes!” . . . Three girls from Smith came for a day or two, “To follow knowledge like a sinking star—”