University of Tennessee Chattanooga - Moccasin Yearbook (Chattanooga, TN)

Page 18 text:

ww ?m s A misty morning, dodging the puddles on the steps, the glassy-bright doors, trying to open the wrong one, the couch to the right with its perpetual faces, glancing left into vastness of detail, entering the hall, the T.V. is on but you can ' t tell if anyone ' s watch- ing, into the din of the snack bar, friends, what a relief to put your books down, the line, the inevitable indecision as to what kind of donut to get, getting coffee, forgetting sugar or a spoon, borrowing a friend ' s spoon, small talk, We didn ' t have to write out that lesson did we? Think we ' ll have a test? the inadequate comfort that everyone ' s in the same boat, a stare lost across the room, a momentary gloom — a memory of a letter that didn ' t come, THE BELL — shattering all consciousness, noise increases quickly, all around people begin to move, finish your coffee, the tension builds, a slow resignation to real- ity, getting up, gathering books and courage, an inward stoic smile ... a launching into another day. We love it.

Page 17 text:

And there are inward moments that are moods . . . of homesickness, depression, or just loneline ss. We all feel them. They are important to happiness: having been there, we cherish it more. If moments could talk there would be much to say. Among the mazes of moun- tains is Chattanooga cradled, and in the bends and crooks of her fertile river she settled summers past to thrive quietly. And the spirit of the land was on it all. With a free breeze rushing up out of cool twi- light hollows twittering russett patterns all around and the hard feel of a forearm on a kindly birch, we greet the ad- vent of a nocturne and the sealing of another span of light. And the earth drifts . . . on and on and many things will bereave you, but these mountains, guardians of the spirit of the land, once in your blood, will never leave you. The true kindred never part . . . never. And this is our legacy . . . our land.

Page 19 text:

In speaking of the poetry of Robert Frost, Robert Penn Warren remarked that all good poems . . . drop a stone into the pool of our being, and the ripples spread. Miss Isobel Griscom herself is like a fine poem. Those who know her and have been touched by her influence can personally testify to the experience of the spreading ripples. In the classroom she creates an atmosphere of enthusiasm and appreciative wonder, and in that spirit she breathes vitality and meaning- ful life into literature. She makes it glow. She questions everything. She shatters naive complacency, stirring into awareness even the most dormant minds and spurring into sen- sibility the most lethargic souls. With her knowledge she does more than instruct; she inspires. For more than forty years she has been a vital stimulation to the growth and intellectual life of this University. She is like a fine poem: enlightening, ele- vating, powerful and unforgettable.