Our “first date” almost did not happen. I had returned to Kent early so I could celebrate New Year’s 1957 there with friends and be ready for the arrival of dormitory residents on January 2. The other dorm counselors and I had a great party on New Year’s Eve.
The following day I began to suffer, but not with the usual hangover one might expect. The joints of my fingers, wrists, elbows and feet began to itch like blazes. Welts developed and I even went to the infirmary for a diagnosis (unknown etiology) and Benadryl to help relieve the symptoms. The good thing was Karen had also returned to Kent and we were able to resume our communication in person.
On the second day of January, in addition to the itching, I had been awakened by maids and smoke. The former were noisy about the latter, which had filled up the hallway of Johnson Hall. During the vacation, the incinerator had not been turned on. Being overstaffed with the debris of returning residents, it billowed with pounds of smoke. It looked like a foggy night and portended the discouraging days which followed.
In order to attend the DU winter formal being held within 72 hours, I needed to find a means of transportation for Karen and me to get there. Apparently, every fraternity brother with a car had already arranged for others to double date with them. Finally, brother Marvin Katz offered a ride, but his problem immediately became worse than mine – his date canceled on the afternoon before the formal.
Confusion also reigned with the start of classes, discussion of grades for last quarter and assistantship funding sources for the remainder of my term at Kent. It was not a hopeful beginning for my final year as an undergraduate. The continued itching did not help my disposition.
The end of the week, fortunately, concluded much better. At noon of the day for the DU formal, one of the brothers, Bill Mottice, said we could double; suddenly, and at the last minute, I had a way to take Karen to the dance. She wore a red sheath dress with a tail – a stunning look. We enjoyed the pre-dance cocktail party held by one of the brothers and the dance, itself. Yes, the week for the start of the year had a magnificent finale.
The only remaining “problem” was that there were no additional journal entries for the rest of the quarter! My final months as an undergraduate were so filled by living them that I had limited opportunity to record what was happening.
The entry, dated January 5, 1957, was followed by a copy of a letter of March 22. Evidently, I had taken a train to Ithaca, New York in order to visit Cornell University for the first time. I applied for graduate school, but my choice had been based on information from a published catalog. I had never seen the campus in person and was impressed by the ivy-clad buildings located between the deep gorges high above the town. The line, “High above Cayuga’s waters” made magnificent sense!
On my return trip from Ithaca, I briefly wrote Karen about my meeting with the dean of the Graduate School and with those who might be able to provide me with a position as a dorm council for undergraduate Cornelians. The university had positions for married counselors and offered them small apartments in the dormitory complex – along with a very modest salary. Everything reminded me of those old-time movies and novels about university life in English schools. I looked forward to what might be next in my life as I passed through Batavia, New York, on my way back to Kent, Ohio. The next few years of my life had a great potential.