University of Rhode Island - Renaissance / Grist Yearbook (Kingston, RI)

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In Lieu To us who graduate in September, 1944, the dormancy of The Grist seemed irreconcilable. Irreconcilable to the extent that we waived our title to a Victory Grist when one appears, and withdrew our shares that we might for ourselves and for our classmates in the service publish a literary anil pictorial memento of the days we spent as a class. With a class of forty-one members, our efforts and re- sults in publishing a book could scarcely hope to equal the high standards that the Rhode Island State Grist achieved in pre-war days, when some three hundred students graduated and contributed to its publication. It is our earnest hope that our achievement in publishing a little war-time Grist, The GRIST ETTE, will at least be proportionate in quality to the editions that have gone before. We deeply appreciate and acknowledge Dr. Harold W. Brow ' ning’s willingness to return the fees we paid for The Grist, so that our GRISTETTE would be possible.

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The GRISTETTE September , 1944

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A DEDICATION . . . ... to our boys who fight “ . Where arc they now, it, hose sturdy hearts exploded With gaiety in class rooms , where the gold Star spelled accomplishment ? Where are they now. who tried to fit their legs Under the bigger desks, not big enough. Who scoffed at poetry, but scrawled brave poems On yellow paper to their shy young loves? — Frances Frost yours, to put into our class that pep which comes only from masculine ef- fort. We have honored you in our hearts, on our Service Flag, and in our Rhody Roll Call, and yet they were honors to which both a sadness and pride were attached. Yes, we will always be proud of you, proud that you left to fight for a freedom which, in its dearness, was also our duty to defend; but sad that you left us to spend our college days without you. How can we write with simple words a tribute to you who are not here ? How can we tell of our feelings for you . . . of our pride . . . our longing . . . and our sadness ? For three years we who graduate have lived in Kingston, in the gaiety, happiness, and safety of Little Rest. You knew a year of that life, only a year, and then, one by one, you went away. We have wished so many times that you were with us, to hold those campus positions which are rightfully