Sullins College - Sampler Yearbook (Bristol, VA)

Page 11 text:

“The happiest years of our lives.” You know, thinking back, just kind of rambling through the days we’ve all had together, I’m just beginning to think our folks are right. Surely, though, they couldn’t know quite how wonderful our year at Sullins has been. I’ll never forget all the little things — like hearing the cheery “Good morning, everyone” from the Alarm Clock Club while I sleepily dressed to make it to breakfast. I never did hear that seven o’clock bell! We seniors had a rule about chapel— never to go until at least three minutes after the bell had rung. We had to go to classes for some reason. Mr. Ingram hasn’t talked about “When I was in France” this year— I wonder why. Miss Watkins still talks about her “chappies” though, and Miss Guthrie has us wondering about “the psychology of the thing.” In the morning the Post Office was very popular. Mrs. Zach did her best to fill our boxes — even if she had to put in a card saying, “A free drink of yonr own choice at King’s Department Store.” We drifted into the Hut either dreamily or angrily determined to drown our sorrows in cokes; and we left carrying bags of lolly-pops and bubble gum. “There’s a good show in town — let’s go.” “Well I shouldn’t, but okay.” We chewed our pop-corn, and afterwards stopped at Jack Trayer’s for a hamburger, or at Bassett’s for a malt, or the Snack Shack for an Orange Julius. No wonder supper didn’t taste quite as good as usual. Thursday night, though, we saved room for chicken— or sometimes we splurged and had dinner down-town. We’ll never forget that hour after dinner. We played bridge or told the merits of the north— or the south. You know, I think we’ve done a good job of getting rid of the Mason- Dixon Line. We listened to the Supper Club and got all tangled up in our knitting, or we wrote that important letter. Then, study hall. The library building was a per- fect place to study if we didn’t happen to have to wash our hair or clothes or something. I’ll never forget how Mrs. Jones al- ways seemed to catch Dot just as she ducked into our room to tell us something so important. Ten o’clock, and the lights would go out. I guess hot plates are a little hard on electricity, aren’t they? We had wonderful messes though, everything from tea to artichokes. We crossed our fingers for Dick Page 7