Newspapers / Salem College Student Newspaper / Feb. 20, 1948, edition 1 / Page 5
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February 20, 1948 THE SALEMITE Page Five Roommates by Anne Moseley “But, Mother, it’ll just be my luck to get a short, spoiled room mate without a smidgen of person ality.” I wailed as I flung a dirty saddle shoe into the trunk. Mother went on sewing the bright red name tapes on my socks as she answered, “This time tomorrow you’ll know her, and if you do just yoifr part you can get along with anybody.” I decided to let both the subject and the lid to the trunk drop. I fell on my bed, exhausted, and was asleep before Mother could cut off the light. If I had been quiet and tired the night before, I was certainly ex uberant as I stood in front of room No. 4 Sister’s House. I had bright ened considerably the minute I en tered it, the oldest dormitory on Salem campus. It was such an ugly, decrepit old building that I felt sure that fate would feel obligated to give me a cute roommate. I stood outside the door wondering what she would be like. I finally flung open the door, only to find the room empty. I dumped my things in the middle of, the floor and, glancing into the mirror, I realized that I looked almost as dishevelled as the room. I turned around just as a tall girl tripped over my shoe bag, which had fallen in the door way. “You’re hurt,” I exclaimed. “No, I’m Anne,” she replied. The crucial moment was over. I had met my roommate, and we were soon chatting like old friends. “Do you go steady?” Anne ask ed me. “Well, not exactly. Do you?” “Yeah, I’ve been going with him for two years. I certainly did hate to leave him too. “Oh! What’s his name?” “Well, that’s the only thing I don’t like about him. His name is Willie.” “Where does he go to school!” “He doesn’t. He works for his father. ’ ’ Anne didn’t talk about Willie much after that first dajf. But, as the weeks wore into months, she was still hearing from him every day. And, although she was as con scientious about her school work as anyone could be, she would drop everything when it was time for her to write him each night. In November, a month later, I was invited to Carolina for the Car- olina-Duke game. My winter coat, ordered in September, still had not come. I was frantic. “I can’t go.” I declared. “Don’t be silly. Certainly you’ll go. How about my blue suit and white top coat?” Anne offered. “Oh, Anne, I just couldn’t. You haven’t even worn the coat. . . . ugh, what size is itf” Yes, Anne was thoughtful and gen erous. She had all these virtues and something else too, a good look ing brother at Chapel Hill. Anne declared that next to Willie, her bro ther w'as the nicest boy of all. And he was. “No more days till we get out,” Anne finished the song which the faculty had forbidden us to sing. She was happy; everybody was happy. We were going home for Christmas the next day. Two days before Christmas vaca tion was over, I got a letter from Anne. She got a fur coat and a new radio, that she was bringing back to school. Oddly enough,^ she didn’t mention Willie. I gathered that she hadn’t gotten the ring she’d wanted so much. Finally that inevitable day came when we were all back at school. All, that is, except Anne. The day drag ged on. She missed three classes that she couldn’t cut. At seven o’clock I went to the Dean’s office to cheek for the fiftieth time. Miss Pangle said that Anne’s mother had just called. I guess I looked scared be cause she said, “It’s not too drastic OUR NEW SHOE SALON has an exciting collection with low wedge heels by Mel Preston for on aind off campus MARGO, the style shown here, is of light weight suede in blue red, baleneiaga, black. You will also like the ankle model in suede and the sling typfe in cobra. 13.95 MONTALDO’S Shoe Salon — Main Floor “Reznicks For Records” Complete Stock of Becords & Sheet Mnsic CCZNICI\»S 440 N. Liberty Dial 2-1443 Across FroiQ State Theatre The two compositions, “Eoom- mates” by Anne Moseley and “Thanksgiving” by Mary Por ter Evans, are examples of the current interest and activity in the field of creative -writing, stim ulated by Mr. Edwin L. Peter son’s approaching fomm. Thanksgiving Miss Shush Seen ya with dark hair Dark eyes and skin most fair. If you have ate plus eleven more Untangle sir, you’ll see I’m shore! it; « « Who is Miss Shush? The first per son who leaves the right answer in the Salemite office; with an ex planation of at least two clues, will be rewarded with a CARTON of the right cigarettes—-Chesterfields! —Anne and Willie eloped on the way back to school.” Dear Mother, and Anne is really married. Isn’t that romantic? But, Mother, second semester I get a new roommate and I just know she’ll be short and spoiled, without a smidgen of personality- PASCHAL BROTHERS Sho® Compnay 219 W. 4th St. FflSHON SHOP by Mary Porter Evans When I was five years old, I spent an odd Thanksgiving. Uncle Ben, who had been thrown from a horse several weeks before and had in jured his knee, spent an uncomfort able vacation. His knee bothered him, and the crutches bothered me. In fact I wouldn’t even come down to the Thanksgiving Dinner and be in the same room with crutches. I had anxiously anticipated dinner, not because of the food, but because there were little clay turkeys, with tiny candles in their backs at each place. Furthermore, Mother had told me a secret—we were going to have an ice-cream turkey for des sert. j Getting my sister and me dressed was always left to the last half hour in an attempt to keep us clean. W hile we donned our white socks, patent leathers and lavender party dresses, Carol and I decided it was like Sunday without Sunday school. Then we waited for our cousins to arrive. Finally, after a long fifteen minutes, the big brown car full of Coles pulled up in front of the house. Carol and I thought it would be fun for us to hide and have them find us. Even at our tender age we realized that stifled giggles from be hind the sofa would be too easy to find, and so we ran up to the twist in the stairway and there we sat. Triumphantly, we heard someone say, “Where are the girls?” Snickers and snorts gave us away. We were found. Carol skipped down stairs. I ran upstairs. A few minutes later ^Mother called me, but there wasn’t any answer. I was in my room, looking out the window, waiting for the cars to go by. When the family realized I wasn’t going to budge, they began speculat ing on why I suddenly became so antisocial. Everyone thought Uncle Ben’s crutches had scared me. Each t)nc was confident he could make me want to sit at the table. Annt Dotty assured me there was nothing really wrong with Uncle Ben, that he just needed the crutches to help him walk. Then Aunt Lucy came. She tried the “ now-you-are-a-big- girl” technique. That didn’t work. Getting Mary down was now a contest and each contestant was sure he could win. Everyone brought bribes: the clay turkeys, little crepe paper baskets of nuts, olives. Noth ing moved me. I can imagine the conversation at the table. Aunt Dotty, in an effort to smooth things over, probably said to her oldest boy, “Now Benny, you have a way with Mary. You try.” Benny wasn’t successful either. Then the young est Cole cousin was sent. It was one of the first times I can remember Tommy’s being “nice” to me. In his eyes Carol and I were brats any way, and this situation probably confirmed his opinion. Carol came up. She had been prompted on what to say. She stood in the doorway and re-quoted, “Mary, please come downstairs. Uncle Ben is all right. The turkey is good. We are going to have des sert soon.” .Even Uncle Ben himself painfully hobbled upstairs to show me he was all right and that he wouldn’t hit me over the head with the crutches. Finally Marie came up to see me. Marie was our nurse and cook whom I just adored. She brought mfe downstairs. I don’t remember what she said or what she did, but the next thing I knew I was at the table dividing my attention between tne ice-cream turkey and those long yellow crutches leaning against the wall. Victor, Columbia and Decca Records 217 West Fonrth Street 4th at Trade Immediate Delivery MONOGRAMMED PLAYrNG CAEDS SALEM BOOK STORE ARDEN SALEM STORE on Salem Square Formerly Arden Farm Store New ownership, but the same management Mrs, J. W. Ferrell, Owner Miss Elizabeth Magle Mrs. Mary S. Smoot 'i T 1 ¥ $7.95 Tan or Tan with White vtc. Always the Best—Nissen Bldg.
Salem College Student Newspaper
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Feb. 20, 1948, edition 1
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