| Subject: Re: Who Were Pierpont's Heads of Residence? |
Author:
Peter Lewicke
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Date Posted: 04:14:11 07/19/04 Mon
In reply to:
Jo Yaffe Kjosness
's message, "Re: Who Were Pierpont's Heads of Residence?" on 03:46:35 07/19/04 Mon
"Whoever was in charge of Pierpont, I think they gave up early, when us gurls refused to abide by the curfew policy. (*snort* Can you just imagine a curfew policy in Pierpont???)"
As in all other female dorms, there were sign-in sheets in the lobby until someone chucked them. I remember on one of the first days when I was at UM that I was with Dinkin, Mary Whiston, Reb, and maybe some others. Somewhat after curfew time Dinkin remembered that we were there late,so he dragged Reb and me to Pat and Twink's room so that we could get thrown out. He explained to Twink that since it was after 11 we should be thrown out. Twink, with a laugh said, "Get out. Come on in and sit down. We continued gabbing for a while.
That was when I found out what the zip code was, and Pat agreed that it was really easy to remember that zip code.
"I'm not sure it is a curse. I wish I could remember all this stuff. Somewhere along the line, I must have sacrificed some brain cells in the name of higher education. Or something."
Having a good memory is often unpleasant, but it is also useful sometimes, and sometimes it is just a waste. Consider the above reminiscence.
My observation has been that most people who are involved in "higher education" either lose some mental capacity, or they simply stop using some mental faculties, because they are concentrating on their specialty.
">Now, this is downright scary. I can't even remember
>many conversations with Marsh. What were we doing
>that day? What was the conversation about? That
>wasn't the day of Jethro Tull, was it?"
That was the day when Marsh had crushed a hundred, or so, vitimin C tabs into a green glass jug, and the two of you wandered around trying to get someone to drink from it or take it off your hands. I met you on the third floor of Moore, where you explained the situation and encouraged me to have some. I begged off, explaing that I had been tripping all day and was tired.
"At any rate, when you get those memoires published, I will buy a copy. Will do you me the honor of signing?"
If I ever finish enough to make it worth printing. I would be happy to sign a copy for you. I didn't write it for the purpose of publishing, but to remind me of what I have done, been, etc. I have never kept a journall, so I don't have such records; but dredging up those memories was interesting, to say the least.
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