I had two roommates: Sue and Beryl, both of whom I still correspond with today. Our room overlooked Keuka Lake, and it was hard to get up on those very frigid mornings to make an 8 a.m. religion class in the chapel. Spring improved things with an 8 a.m. golf class instead, except for the fact that those were the mornings my roommates could sleep late, and they never appreciated me trying to get my golf clubs out of the closet — it was always met with some serious groaning.

We also had junior residents on our halls with mandatory meetings, which took place on the hall floors. Usually we wore our pajamas, and it was a nice time to catch up with girls you hadn’t seen in a while. There were no phones in our rooms… just one pay phone in the hall, so it wasn’t very easy to make or receive calls. There were no computers, either; we bought our own manual typewriters to type our papers on.

When we wanted to go to town, there was a yellow school bus that would make daily trips in and out of town. If the bus didn’t go at a time convenient for you, you could find other girls who wanted to go and would be willing to share the $1.25 cab fare with you. My friend Pam and I often walked to and from town on nice days. It was a long walk, but there was always something to talk about.

One night my roommate, Sue, was looking out from our room toward Richardson. She said, “get up; you’ve got to see this.” We saw a couple of girls on the balcony throwing off pillows and blankets to someone in the shadows. Then we could see them go down the stairs and disappear into the night.

We had to go to the dining hall to sign up for dinner — there were two seatings. The food was always remarkably good, except for Sunday nights, when it was usually “scoopies:” tuna salad, egg salad, etc., served with an ice cream scoop.

I guess the year — with its trips to mixers, the R&M and the Wagner, where seniors were usually dancing on tabletops — was a typical freshman year, but at the same time, it wasn’t. The Viet Nam War was raising our consciences. In the spring of 1968, I awoke to my clock radio hearing the news that Dr. Martin Luther King had been shot. My friend Carol was particularly affected by this news. There was a march by the entire student body, led by President Glick. There was also grief and outrage. Then before we went home for the summer, more bad news came out of the clock radio: Bobby Kennedy had been shot as well.

In between those two major events, in April 1968, I met my future husband, John, in Ball Hall. I was helping to set up an oriental flower exhibit done by Ms. Hsu’s class in the lounge at Ball Hall when Caroline came and asked if I was willing to on a blind date… the rest is history. I guess you can say much of my life was shaped during my unforgettable freshman year living in Ball Hall.

Sophomore year I was in Davis Hall, but did go in and out of Ball Hall occasionally. I was also invited to the teachers’ lounge at the base of Ball Hall, which I thought was an honor and which I enjoyed as well.

In 1962 Mary Agnes Thompson gave me her watercolor painting of the view across the lake in the early morning from the top story (no student rooms up there). I still treasure it. I think she must have chosen me because I’d go up there before sunrise to study, and always loved to watch the sun come up over the lake.

I too waited tables…never got to wait on the faculty in the Buffet. I did work at the Buffet tho.

Speaking of the large oval trays… one night we has snow and a group of us raided the kitchen and slid down the lake side lawn on the trays. They were none the worse for the outing when we returned them. We had a great time too.

Helen’55