the collegiate
PAGE THREE
.■TheMissLonelyheartsofthe
■ ■ York Post-Dispatch (Are
in ffouble? - Do you need
_ Write to Miss Lonely
S and she will help you) sat
ffnfisk and stared at a piece
; *t?cardb«.rd. On it a
' “mJ IX*" P"”““ "y
Shrike, the feature editor.
■SoulofMissL, glorify me.
B^.ofMissL, nourish me.
SofMissL, intoxicate me.
Tears ofMissL, wash me.
OhgoodMissL, excuse my plea,
Ind hide me in your heart,
y defend me from mine
enemies.
Help me, Miss L, help me, help
Insaeculasaeculorum, Amen.
This is the opening passage
from the novel, Miss
Lonelyhearts, by Nathanael
West, The novel, of course, is
about Miss Lonelyhearts, a
newspaper reporter who writes
the daily agony column. Being
(his type of columnist. Miss
Lonelyhearts comes into contact
with many different types of
people who write to him, asking
for advice — about a wide
variety of personal problems,
people write to Miss
Lonelyhearts about problems
ranging from troubled
marriages to bad weather. I will
give you an example:
“Dear Miss Lonelyhearts,
I am in such pain I don’t
itnow what to do sometimes I
think 1 will kill myself my
kidneys hurt so much. My
husband thinks no woman
can be a good Catholic and
not have children irregar-
dless of the pain. I was
married honorable from our
church but I never knew
what married life meant as I
was never told about man
and wife. My grandmother
never told me and she was
the only mother I had but
made a big mistake by not
telling me as it don’t pay to
be innocent and is only a big
disappointment. I have 7
children in 12 years and ever
since the last 2 I have been
so sick, I was operated on
twice and my husband
promised no more children
on the doctors advice as he
said I might die but when I
got back from the hospital
he broke his promise and
now I am going to have a
baby and I don’t think I can
stand it my kidneys hurt so
much. I am so sick and
scared because I can’t have
an abortion on account of
being a Catholic and my
husband so religious. I cry
all the time it hurts so much
and I don’t know what to do.
Yours respectfully,
Sick-of-it-all
As you can see. Miss
Lonelyhearts of the New York
Post-Dispatch had a great moral
responsibility to the people who
sought his advice, and now, as
the Miss Lonelyhearts of The
Collegiate staff, I have this same
Walking Past A Window
While walking past a window
on the second floor of Hines
earlier this semester, I chanced
upon two people staring into the
space of a thousand people’s
fates that ranged over the
liistory of the entire human
struggle. I talked to the in
dividuals to find out what was
outside the window that was
worth such concentration.
■Neither could reply, but neither
(I later realized) was dreaming
the dreams a young man
dreams, A young man’s dreams,
like clay strands of straw, can be
crushed under the hard heels of
the trained troops of fate and
Mown away with the winds of
time. A young man’s dreams
range from those of race
superiority of the radical Nazis,
to the business empire of young
Rockefellers, to young
Berrigans who dream of peace.
Getting back to the window, I
^lized that somehow these
young hardened souls were
THE HEADHUNTER
A UNISEX SHOP
2001 W. Nash St.-Wilson, N.C.
jimmy KOENIG
DANNY HAYES
responsibility. There are many
students at Atlantic Christian
College who need help, just as
Sick-of-it-all did. For those of
you who need advice from me.
Miss Lonelyhearts, this column
will be reserved for your letters
seeking advice and my reply to
your letter.
I will be glad to help you with
any of your personal problems,
and try to find a practical
solution by giving you sound
advice. I cannot guarantee that I
will solve all your problems. I
can only promise to give my best
in trying to help you help
yourself.
Do you need sound advice? Do
you have a special problem that
you need to discuss with
someone, and yet remain
anonymous? Do you feel
frustrated? Is life such a
bummer that you feel like
quitting? If so, you could use
some good advice from Miss
Lonelyhearts. I will be glad to
help you in any way that I can.
Address your letters to:
Miss Lonelyhearts
The Collegiate
P.O. Box 5737
ACC
Wilson, N.C. 27893
dreaming the softer dreams of
old men, dreams that have no
substance you can grab hold of.
They come and go day by day.
They live in the peace that
comes with the acceptance of the
material things that bind man.
These dreams live in the silent
testimonies of those people of
God who struggle not with
worldly desires but with their
own relationships with other
people and God. Led by the
Spirit, they choose to do the will
of God, to which they so
carefully listen, instead of the
evil which lurks behind their
own prideful passions.
Where does all this lead us? To
a little more speculation. Why do
people continue to get upset over
a single flunked test? Why do we
still retain ourselves to a few
friends instead of many? How in
the world did two young students
begin dreaming old men’s
dreams?
Bob Sills
I
\
H)*! t.
■'(C.U
Night
You get up every morning at the
sound of the bell
You get to work late and the boss
man’s giving you hell
Till you’re out on a midnight run
Losing your heart to a beautiful
one
And it feels right
As you lock up the house
Turn out the lights
And step out into the night
And the world is bursting at its
seams
And you’re just a prisoner of
your dreams
Holding on for your life
’Cause you work all day
To blow em away in the night
The rat traps filled with soul
crusaders
The circuits lined and jammed
with chrome invaders
And she’s so pretty you’re lost in
the stars
As you jockey your way through
the cars
And sit at the light, as it changes
to green
With your faith in your machine
Off you scream into the night
And you’re in love with all the
wonder it brings
And every muscle in your body
sings
As the highway ignites
You work nine to five
And somehow you survive
Till the night
Hell all day they’re busting you
up on the outside
But tonight you’re gonna break
on through to the inside
And it’ll be right, It’ll be right
And it’ll be tonight
And you know she will be waiting
there
And you’ll find her somehow you
swear
Somewhere tonight
You run sad and free
Until all you can see is the nignt
Bruce Springsteen
The Imagination
Do you remember the
imagination you had as a child?
Do you not wish that you had it
now? I can remember when a
snowfall transformed Stevie's
back yard into a winter won
derland, inhabited by
abominable snowmen. They
were very real to me then, as
visions to all children are. Today
when we imagine something, we
are aware that we are imagining
it; back then the things we
imagined became our absolute
reality, I was Frederick, the
great arctic explorer, not
Freddie, the little boy in baggy
pants, rubber boots, and a pull
over hat.
Some people never lose their
power of imagination; those
people are the artists in a given
society. Their visions become
their art. It is because these
people live in the world of their
own mind that they sometimes
have a tough time getting along
with their environment. Where
was Poe’s mind when he was in
the process of imaginging one of
his stories? 1 can not say but I
sure as hell would not have
wanted to be there. Did
Coleridge stand next to his hero
in “The Rhyme of the Ancient
Mariner.” exploring a ghost ship
ins strangely calm waters’’ On
what plane was Blake’s mind
when as a child his mother found
him carrying on a conversation
with a tree’ When Jack
Kerouac, a controversial writer
of the fifties, was a child he used
to imagine that the canal under
the bridge he was crossing was a
field of raring white horses,
softly calling his name.
Have you ever wondered what
it is about these men that makes
their imagination so unique?
Perhaps it is because they are
not afraid to explore the
outermost reaches of their
imagination. Many of us are.
How many times have you let
your mind go completely,
without fear of where it would
take you? Probably not many.
The next time a situation arises
where your mind starts wan
dering to far and exotic places,
don’t call it back too soon. You
never know where it will take
you!
Alpha Omega
(Continued from pagel)
one difference between himself
and the Greek, “,,, I have no
taste for hemlock.” As a suc
cessful statesman and a man
who loved life. Sir Thomas did
all he could to avoid martyrdom,
“A Man For All Seasons” is the
story of this struggle. Finally,
Sir Thomas chose death rather
than deny his conscience.
“A Man For All Seasons” first
appeared in 1954 as a BBC radio
play. It was later adapted for
television by Bolt, who is an
English playwright. The play
opened in New York in 1961 and
ran for a year and a half, a truly
phenomenal run for a serious
play. It was awarded the New
Little Big Man
Movie: Hardy Hall
York Drama Critics’ Circle
Award for the Best Foreign Play
of the 1961-62 season. In its final
incarnation as a motion picture,
“A Man For All Seasons” was
released in 1966, and won six
Oscars,
The troupe coming to ACC is
one of three such touring
companies in Alpha-Omega.
Every year each company
covers 50,000 miles, playing one-
night stands in communities
from Maine to California. Their
production style is simple, using
a minimum of props and scenery
and creating their settings In the
imagination of the audience. The
players who will be performing
are Ken Zinck, Carmen Rupe,
Shelley Russell, and Jim Fuqua,
7:30 P.M.
Sunday