Southeast Missouri State University - Sagamore Yearbook (Cape Girardeau, MO)

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5? Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things To yield with a grave to reason, And how and accept the end Of a love or a season. --Robert Frost Only in retrospect is one able to see the parts in relation to the whole, only then can all be held in a precarious, wonderful balance, only then can the drama of life be repeatedly savoured. And so the 1962 SAGABIORE will recreate, in restrospect, the memories of a year, two years, four . . . a time measured by friends, classes, instructors, coffee breaks, finals-a thousand things. To them we will add the sights and sounds, the minglings of mel- ancholy and mirth, the concentration and realizations which have made the pattern of 1962 forever memorable. Yes, memories are falling stars, and in this 49th volume of the SAGAMORE, we have tried to catch a few and hold them for you. Only in this way will we consent to bow and accept the endfOf a love or a season.

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iixik SW W Xujqg wt if A FALL A torrid summer faded into the premeditated bedlam of autumn, and with its fading a new cycle in human affairs began: over 3,000 stu- dents poured into Cape Girardeau, unpacked their bags, and resolutely faced a new school year. Newcomers to the campus watched in amazement as their initiated companions turned an institution of higher learning into a gigantic playground. Slightly dampered by registration and the beginning of classes, the inferno cooled to a steady flame that was to burn brightest on weekends. Sprinkled with parties, concerts, plays, and cultural lec- tures, the season found students struggling to keep up with classes without missing the events of their unique society. Soon football was under way and students began priming them- selves for a bigger-than-ever-Homecoming-and it was. The day saw a Queen crowned, an extravaganza called a parade stretch itself from Main Street to Houck Stadium, and a close-fought football contest spend itself on 3500 spectators. But above the whirl of fall activity, the days held mellower tones of thoughtfulness, questioning, and challenge. By the time the color had faded from the wintering hills, a new cycle of human activity had gotten well under way. But the old melody lingered on, never to be exactly repeated, never to be forgotten.