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THE TWIG
April 22, 1950
OPEIS LETTER TO STUDEiSTS
With this issue the present staff turns
over its positions to a new staff of
enthusiasts. It has been a great pleasure
to serve the student body and the entire
staff has enjoyed their tasks. The going
has not all been easy, but most of the
time it has been fun. We only hope that
we have served you in the capacity in
which you wished to be served.
The policy of the paper has been to
present the college as it truly is to you,
the students, and to the other readers
whom our circulation reaches. All
phases of its life—the good and the
bad. This effort has not always met
with success but each of us has been
improved by the experience.
We turn over our office, our desks,
our sheaves of paper, our pencil stubs
and worn out rulers, our worries and
our satisfactions to a new staff. The
work will always be hard and the
duties many, but with a little co-opera
tion from you the new staff will present
you with a paper far exceeding our
efforts. Help them and encourage them
as you have us and make the Twig
of next year truly the “publication of
the students of Meredith College.”
The 1949-50 Staff.
LORD, / WANT TO RE A
CHRISTIAN!
Nine weeks ago today, what should
manifest itself as the greatest week in
the life of any Meredith girl drew to
a close. And yet, if the week had any
significance at all this close must be
only a physical one, just as any Friday
draws any week toward its end.
The messages during Focus week
were presented in every style and man
ner; messages of enough varieties that
there should have been one to touch
the heart of every girl on this campus.
Don’t, therefore, allow our campus life
to slip back into its old routine. It is
each girl’s responsibility to take up the
message that she received and carry it
forward that in the days, months, and
years to come Meredith will be known
everywhere for the truly Christian way
of life that is carried on here.
Don’t fall victims to the easy way
of life, but back up, through the rest
of this year and all the years to come,
all the pleadings your heart made
during that week; and if you felt the
cry inside, “Lord, I want to be a
Christian,” don’t let it die out to whim
per; and if it has begun to die out,
renew it; keep it strong and let the rest
of your fellow men know that you have
cried, “Count me in,” as the curtain
goes up on a new act of the drama of
your life!
Mcmbex
F^sociotecl Golle6*ate Press
EDITORIAL STAFF
Sally Lou Taylor Editor
Nancy Walker Managing Editor
Barbara Schettler Feature Editor
LeGrace Gupton Art Editor
Frances Altman Alumnae Editor
Joanne Mason Music Editor
Lois Harder Sports Editor
Shirley Bone Photo Editor
Betty Lou Rogers Fashion Editor
Carolyn Covington Columnist
Sue Page Exchange Editor
Reporters—Micky Bowen, Anne Marie Mor
ton, Mary Jane Utley, Marie Edwards,
Sarah Jane Newbern, Patsy Spiers, Dot
Haight, Rosalind Knott, Rebecca Knott,
Anne Creech, Elsie Williams, Ruth Ann
Simmons.
Typists — Anne Fouche, Carolyn Crook,
Joyce Bailey.
BUSINESS STAFF
Jane McDaniel Business Manager
Annette Miller Advertising Manager
Sue Smith Circulation Manager
Members of Business Staff—Martha Hare,
Jane Luther, Dwan Swindell, Barry Bare
foot.
Kntered as second-class matter October 11, 1923,
at postofflce at Raleigh. N. C.. under Act of March
8, 1879. Published semi-monthly during the months
of October, November, February, March, April, and
May; monthly during the months of September, De
cember, and January.
Subscription rate, $2.00 per year to students.
Alumnae membership associational fee $2.00, of
which $1.00 covers a year's subscription.
Member of
Intercollegiate Press
Tliroiigli the Smoke and Flame
If we can see through the smoke,
maybe we will be able to find out what
is going on in the Day Student’s Room.
There’s the perpetual bridge game.
“Don’t look in my hand, you goon . . .
Have you got the queen? . . . Yes—I
mean— wouldn’t you like to know? . . .
Wake up and play . . . We made one . . .
Down two ... It can’t be my deal . . .
but it is . . . I’m going to New York next
weekend . . . Yeah, and I’m going to
China in May . . . Let’s throw in this
lousy hand . . . Deal again.”
Is that prone figure on the couch one
of our crew? Those feet don’t look
familiar. Besides, she is studying and
that can’t be true in here. She’s memo
rizing something. “Breathes there a
man with soul so dead. Who never to
himself hath said . . . uh, has said . . .
Let school go on. I’ll stay in bed . . .”
Are we having a football squad next
fall, or is that huddle just a discussion
of last week end? “Bill said . . . and then
I said . . . and then he said . . . and then
I said . . . But let me tell you what
else . . .” Well, anyway, no matter what
who said, “there is no conversation,”
so they tell me.
Hey, duck. You might get hit with
that proverbial whip she is carrying
around in her hand. “But that is just a
snack . . . honest, it’s not my lunch . . .
it’s cold in the other room . . . crowded,
too . . . Confound it, I won’t leave this
room no matter what you say . . .
Blackmail, huh? . . . Okay, you win.”
As usual, the subject of lunch is
pretty popular around the room. “Are
you going to Roy’s today? fpd. adv.)
. . . See ya at one o’clock . . . There’s no
where else to eat (not pd. adv.) . . .
Maybe she’ll give us a ride today since
it’s been paved . . . I’m tired of rocks
in my shoes . . . Your head, too, don’t
kid us . . . My shoes were full of rocks
from walking home last night ... I
thought Johnny had a car . . . That was
what I meant . . . I’m starving.”
There goes the bell for class. “Where
are my books? You don’t study enough
to know, do you? . . . Does anybody
know the exact time? . . . There’s the
last bell . . . let’s cut . . . it’s not too late
. . . Come on, it’s never too late for
anything . . .” Whew, peace in the
library at last.
Problem of the Year
Is Finally Analyzed
We heard last fall that pay phones
were to be installed on every hall. To
prepare ourselves for the new arrival,
we began to stuff our glass piggy bank
with nickels.
It seems that the stork (Family
Martinas, Species Zeno) has been too
busy to bring the little bundle of joy
to our hall or to any other hall, but
our nickels are being devoured by other
strange animals. The Biology Depart
ment has analyzed these creatures and
has sent us the following report which
we deeply appreciate;
Animal number one (which has been
taking a large portion of our nickels)
belongs to the Phylum Drinkum. Be
cause of its effect on the human organ
ism, scientists have placed it in the
Class Burpis. Its hard exoskeleton is
characteristic of the Species Machinus
and the blood content associates it with
the genus cokus.
After much controversy, the Biology
Department classified the other main
nickel devourer. It was somewhat diffi
cult to catch and study this animal be
cause of its rapid movement, but the
authorities were able to inspect it at
the periodic stops which the animal
was found to make. It is a member of
the Phylum Transportatium, Class
Busts. Because of its complex structure,
the genus and species of this animal
are as yet undetermined.
Now that we have solved the mystery
of the missing nickels, we’re beginning
to accumulate more nickels in our
piggy bank. Now we would like to
know where our pay phones are.
Here and There
By SUE PAGE
I have an “opinion” from the Old
Gold and Black which is probably
shared by some Meredith lassies.
Late hours aren’t too good for one.
I’ve found that this is true.
But though they aren’t too good for one
They’re wonderful for two—
Looks like the readers of the Guil-
fordian have a situation similar to ours.
Anyhoo, I quote a paragraph from their
paper. “We like the strategy here. . .
They didn’t just mount any light of
those porches. These are bright enough
to give ‘long-standers’ sun blindness
and third degree burns.”
If she says good night quite coldly
And in the dorm she trots
It might be halitosis
Or two thousand mighty watts.
The Clemson Tiger sports cosmopoli
tan anecdotes this time and so we take
their hint:
Cairo, Egypt
“I had a rather rotten date last
night.”
“You did? What did you do?”
“I spit it out.”
There were other countries mentioned
but for reasons of the censor we will
leave them out—especially France.
The Citadel’s Bull Dog tells a sad, sad
story.
Joe didn’t listen, look, or stop.
So they dragged his flivver to the
shop.
It took only a week or two
To make the car as good as new;
But though they hunted high and low
They found no extra part for Joe.
Little cuts from classes.
Little slips marked late
Makes the student wonder
If she’ll graduate.
Now I lay me down to rest;
Before I take tomorrow’s test
If I should die before I wake
Be thankful; I’d have no test to take—
In college days I must confess.
I’ve often heard it said:
“The biggest block to one’s success
Is usually one’s head.”
. . . Did you take a nap?
. . . No, is one missing?
Whether you think so or not it is
true! The last three additions to this
merry column came from the Twig—
1925 issue!
And don’t forget the most popular
songs of the week—Be sure to hear
them on the hillbilly hit parade:
1. “I Got Tears in My Y’ears”
2. “Petticoat Lever”
3. “If I’d a-Knowed You Were a-
Coming”
flAROLYrS
^ORJIER
“We are starry-eyed and vaguely dis
contented
Like a nightingale without a song to
sing.”
That is, some of us are starry-eyed
because some of us have said “yes,”
and consequently are wearing those
beautiful diamonds on that certain
finger! Then some of us are vaguely
(!) discontented ’cause we don’t
even possess a frat pin! But our time
will come, so it might as well be
spring.
“But how can we have spring fever
When it isn’t even spring?”
Well now, that’s a debatable ques
tion. The time of year tells us that
it is spring, but the weather tells us
sometimes that it isn’t. But having
spring fever is fun, and it’s a good
excuse for a lot of things!
“We’re as restless as a willow in a wind
storm;
We’re as jumpy as a puppet on a string.”
These lines of the song might be
reserved solely for the freshmen as
they sing the “term paper blues.”
’Betcha the rest of you were nervous
when you did your first ones too,
remember? But I’d rather have
spring fever than remember!
“We haven’t seen a crocus or a rose
bud,
or a robin on the wing.”
I’m not so sure about the crocuses,
but I can tell you about the rosebuds
and the robins. The only rosebuds
around here so far have been the
ones in the Easter corsages. Probably
some more will appear for Junior-
Senior. The only robins-on-the-wing
I’ve seen have been those flying back
to Florida after listening to Sam
Beard’s weather forecasts.
“But we feel so gay in a melancholy
way . . .”
’cause it’s almost graduation time.
But we won’t talk about that, because
we don’t want the seniors to be too
melancholy during their last six
weeks of gaiety!
“It might as well be spring.”
cedes company. Of course, at Meredith,
there is always company which is the
O • TT 1 • best reason why there should always
bprui^ Housecleaning be housecleamng. state is doing its bit
L O O to help by carrying off stray paper dolls,
why don’t we do our part by putting
waste paper in the garbage and empty
coke bottles in the containers? O.K.,
don’t do it, and you’ll find that your
feet will stumble over scattered rubble
even if your head is in the clouds.
There’s still poetic justic!
By BARNEY SCHETTLER
Spring is come.
The grass is riz,
I wonder where
My fellow is!
No doubt about it! Spring has come.
Proof that “in the spring, a young
man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts
of love” is seen reflected brilliantly
from those symbols of undying love on
those lucky, lucky girls’ fingers. There
seems to be an epidemic of announce
ments that “we’re that a-way about
each other.” Perhaps the thing most
needed at Meredith is a course on “How
to Get Your Man and Hold Him.” There
seem to be a number of able teachers
available.
For those who decide to bystep
romance for the present, the vocational
guidance program is just the thing.
It’s time to sweep out those dusty
tentative plans and get a clear view
of prospective careers and their
advantages. Who knows? Maybe there
is a future president hanging around
preparing to be a trail blazer in wom
an’s equality.
The sunshine is calling everyone
from their scholars’ cells and the term
papers are due next week. Who can
resist the lure of having the earliest
suntan? By rationalizing, one may
justify her laziness by sunning her
blankets at the same time she takes
her sun bath. Confuscius was wrong,
though, when he said that a watched
pot never boils—but then perhaps
broiled is the better word.
Spring housecleaning usually pre-