WEDNESDAY, MAY 15, 1974
THE DECREE
PAGE17
i
In the last four years a lot of
water’s gone under the bridge,
or perhaps better put a lot of
beer has gone down the ol’ pipe.
And so, now I’m faced with
finishing up the column for the
last time. I’m faced with either
trying to recap four years of
college life or with writing
some masterful epilog that will
send tears down the cheek of
even our meanest soccer
player. Or I could always do
another half-true funny story
and call it quits with even less
fanfare than I started the
column with four long years
ago. But I don’t want to do any
of those things. What I want to
do is make a stab at trying to
tell you all why I wrote this
column in the first place and
what happened to it on the
way. I want you to know what
I’ve been trying to do for the
last few years.
I can remember four years
ago, walking into the Decree
office and meeting Julie
Robinson, who was then editor.
I wanted to work on the paper
and wanted to know how I
could help. About five minutes
later I walked out of that office
glassy-eyed and amazed. I had
become, in that short period of
time, a full fledged column
writer—subject: freshmen.
That’s how the name “A Presh
Look” was born. What came
about then was that first
column about all the guys
playing up to that cute little
freshman girl in the pool room.
What was supposed to happen
in that issue was to see a side of
human nature ever realized
before. But something else
happened too. That column
made me realize that I should
not and could not specialize in
just freshmen. After all, what
was so funny about it was that
the guys were seniors and were
trying to impress “a kid”. So
then the real thing got started.
I decided that my work should
try to show every day college
experiences in light and funny
ways with the end result trying
to be able to draw from that a
simple human truth that always
seems to get overlooked in the
day to day activities of life. I
wanted you to see yourself in
the characters I presented and
I wanted you to realize that
were are all the same.
I ended up writing a lot about
personal friends (Me and 01’
Rope) and things like tidbits
about the Sooner Club because
I came to believe that what
most seemed to be lacking at
Wesleyan was an intense and
true feeling of loyalty and
comraredy in all aspects of
campus life. Me and 01’ Rope
had that loyalty and so did the
Club. And we had it in all
aspects of our college life. And
so, with all those endless trivial
columns about our escapades I
was attempting to display that
loyalty while all the time I
wanted to print in big bold
letters . . . HEY, FIND
FRIENDS, BECOME CLOSE,
DO SOME SILLY THINGS
THAT MAKE YOU CLOSE
AND WE CAN ALL ENJOY
LIFE HERE TOGETHER. (My
God, I finally did it.) It wasn’t
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that everybody had to be nuts
like the Sooners, or had to run
for Homecoming Queen, but
that to really exist meant more
than cramming your head
inside a book.
I guess I’m afraid it didn’t
work and that’s why the long
explanation. I threw in some
things to be controversial and
threw in some columns that had
no meaning whatsoever, but all
in all I did have a plan. It was
supposed to be about people .. .
people who enjoy living and
enjoy attempting to do it
creatively while confined to the
rigors of day to day existance
within a college community. I
guess I got the message
through to some of you,
because you always would
comment on the column, but I
missed with a lot of you, too,
because some of you never read
any of the paper, much less my
column. And that’s what hurts.
It was you I was after . . . the
ones out there who can’t or
don’t attempt to do anything
but complain and whimper. I
wanted to show you how some
other people stay happy.
Maybe one day . . .
Now that I’ve gone on with
this long explanation I want to
try one more column On you.
And this is it, the last one.
I’ve been fortunate here. I’ve
done about everything I could
possibly do. I thought about it
the other day and realized that
I was president, worked on a
publication, worked on produc
tions, but “M.C. ing” the
basketball games is the closest
I ever came to college athletics.
I was never a jock. And I’ll
never have a letter sweater to
show my kids. I mean, I could
show ’em the ol’ Decree or the
Cup but they would really like a
jock sweater better, I bet.
The closest I ever came to
being a jock was when we (yes
. . . me and ol’ you know who)
went out for soccer. We lasted
about a week until I bruised my
heel in an inter-dormitory
water fight and until Neal
pulled a muscle in his stomach.
(He was really just sore from
push-ups, I think.) Anyway, we
went in gung ho with the whole
thing. We quit smoking and
curtailed drinking a little.
When we both “got well” we
went back out as if nothing had
happened. But something did
happen, at least to me. It was
raining like crazy that day and
for three hours I sat on that
cold, wet bench waiting for ol’
Horne to let me schimmage. I
never did. Neal did, and all the
fatties did, but not me. He was
nice enough to let me do wind
springs, the mile run and push
ups with the team. Well, that
was that! I had had it. I quit, eal
lasted about three more days
and took to drinking again for
after-class amusement.
We gave up. It’s clear to me
now that ol’ Horne was testing
us. We just didn’t have what it
took to be a jock. We did well in
about everything else we did
but that. But at least we knew
when we were beat.
We all need a realization of
our shortcomings, and now as
graduates we should have a
pretty good idea as to what
they are. If we know what our
shortcomings are and if we
know when to quit we’re half
way victorious in any battle.
And I think I should quit
now. Good Luck, and congratu
lations. See you Homecoming.
can IB sniec
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