Wheaton College - Tower Yearbook (Wheaton, IL)

Page 24 text:

Listening to the sound of Christmas. It's a Saturday at Wilmot. Every house has a tree in the window. On almost every door hangs a wreath. Everywhere waiting, listening to the sound of Christmas. Carolers step through air that is very cold and very still. An organ entices. Parties are background bows and silver tinsel. All in December but only a scapegoat. A few more days and it will be time to go home. Everybody wants to be home for Christmas. 18

Page 23 text:

will M 1 'Wai' Another complication but not a damper. 4-nf A beautiful girl steps into a framework of white to halt expectation for two folded hands. The frame- work becomes a painting of triangle composition in silk roses. Still-idle talk, day-old news, tapping fingers. Classrooms denote the fortunate ones. An empty brown desk discloses occupancy elsewhere. And elsewhere, warm sprays bathe while puffs cloud the humid air. Hard white boards stand re- signed to the steel's pressing steam. Lipstick, Chantilly, Trifari form a trio of enchantment. All until afternoon appointments are sprayed and pearled nails dried. Only then can the picture come into focus. Fall, ROTC, Dorm, Washington- it matters not. The men encroach the mansioned walls. Familiar composure displaced by tenseness. 17

Page 25 text:

lllinois license plates in blue and gold. A one hundredth year. A celebration where the bounty was The pertunctorily colored metal. Really more Than metal, though. Really a symbol. A symbol ot The hundred years between The sixties. The story is told this year and it will be told next. Because a centennial is more than blue and gold license plates. More than a multi-layered birthday cake. January is not to be wasted. Pretension surrenders the snow to the world of reality. And to the world of skiers. lt's a Saturday at Wilmot or a semester break at Boyne Mountain. They call it enslaving where only novices heed stitched eyes and broken limbs. But everybody doesn't ski. ln tact, every- body doesn't like January. A symbol ofthe hundred years between the sixties