Page Two
THE SALEM IT E
October 10, 1952
sfasn)
jHeti. . . .
Now that the novelty of a new year at
Salem has begun to wear off, let’s realize that
we have the privileges and responsibilities of
being Salemites in the true sense of the word.
One important phase of our campus life is
taking a part in the major activities of' each
organization. Let’s not sit back and miss out.
The spiritual activities on campus give us
the chance to put the most important things
in life first. One of the main objectives of
the “Y” this year is to build up the atten
dance at these spiritual activities. This in
cludes “Y” Watch, Morning Chapel, arid Ves
pers.
In addition to the spiritual lift that it
would give us individually, good attendance
would give a better • impression of Salem to
people outside of our campus. Just imagine
what an outside speaker must think when
we ask them to speak at Sunday night Ves
pers and only 15 students come. This is the
Vesper service for the whole college, and yet
only 15 people are interested.
Remember, whether it be Vespers, Morning
Chapel, Y Watch or “Spiritual Emphasis
Week”, attend, not because we want a big
crowd, but because we feel you will miss
something.
Marilyn Summey
President, Y. W. C. A.
Wluf Studif? . . .
Why study? This is a question that per
plexes most college students, but more es
pecially the freshmen. The freshmen, not
realizing the great gap from high school to
college, come to college with the idea that
college is just another form of high school.
When they are confronted with a problem
they cannot solve, they think what’s the use?
Why is it necessary to learn so, much? Col
lege is not made up of formulas and theorems.
If that is the idea that one gets from college,
it is all wrong.
We come to college to learn how to better
ourselves and our environment. We study
the different subjects so that we may learn
how different writers express themselves, and
through this we broaden our own minds.
The names, the formulas, the theorems, the
rhyme schemes—we will forget, but we will
not forget the impressions all this made upon
our minds.
After studying the many different subjects,
we will leave college with a' better under
standing of human nature and what makes
human begins act as they do. This is the
reason for studVing.
L. M.
Published every Friday of the College year by the
Student Body of Salem College
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Editor’s note: The above cartoon is a reprint of one draVy^n by Mar
garet Raynal, a student at Salem several years aigo.
C«np Holiday
By Jane Smith
Fourteen years old is an excel
lent age for children to go to
camp, and what could be more fun
than a co-ed camp ? This was the
salestalk used by two teachers in
Selma to win my parents' consent
to send me to their camp—Camp
Holiday near the lovely Gulf of
Mexico. The two maidens, Miss
Matthews and Miss Turner, were
also successful in getting about
nineteen other boys and girls to go
to camp.
On a July morning we left Selma
on a chartered bus and were so
excited w'e hardly kissed our par
ents good-bye. The -first inkling
we got that it was not going to
be tlie most glorious month of our
lives was when we arrived and saw
the campsite. It simply consisted
of two houses—one tiny, for the
boys, and the other rather large
where the counselors, all the girls,
and tiie cook were to stay.
The houses were in a state park
in south Alabama and adjoined a
lake with water that w^as warm
. and tea colored — just right to
cause ear fungi. The Gulf was
two miles aw'ay, at least that is
what the counselors said. I am
convinced it was five miles, since
we liad to walk over once a day.
But our spirits were still un
daunted, and all w'ent well until
around ten o’clock that first night.
Then I remembered my parents
were in Mobile, only 30 miles away,
attending a golf tournament. How
easy it would be for them to come
by camp, pick me up, and then the
three of us go home together. As
I tliought of them, I began to cry.
Suddenly I was jolted to reality
l)y a voice which said, “You are a
yellow dog with no guts. If you
want to go home just start walk
ing.” It was the soothing voice of
my counselor, Miss Amy Mat
thews. I was so frightened that I
dried my tears and told her I
loved the camp and wanted to
; stay the whole month. From then
until camp was over, I cried only
when I was in bed, though I re
mained somewhat a problem child.
Miss Matthews and Miss Turner
had previously been in charge of
a work camp in North Carolina;
therefore, they were both advo
cates of campers working. We
made our beds, cleaned our rooms,
set the tables, peeled and cleaned
vegetables, scraped the plates, and
anytliing else to help the cook
liave a good time.
We complained among ourselves
about our duties and began calling
the camp Work-a-month rather
than Camp Holiday; however, per
forming the tasks must have made
an impression on us, at least on
me, for when I returned home I
amazed my mother and the cook
by helping around the house for
the first time in my life.
Every camp must have a stren
uous sports’ scliedule, and Camp
Holida}: was no e.xception. Never
athletic, I did not like tlie sche
dule, and T let it be known quite
openly. After a lecture on the
matter from Miss Turner, who was
a physical education teacher, I did
make a conscious effort to enjoy
the volley ball games, the two
swims a day, the long hikes and
the competitive events.
During camp V. J. Day came.
When we heard the news, we all
knelt in prayer, we were so thank-
(Continued On Page Three)
City Bred
By Anne Hobbs Helsabeck
I was city “born and bred” and
when I moved to King in July, I
was plenty skeptical about how I
was gonna’ like a small town. I
was typical city gal goes to the
country, and “I ain’t never had it
so good.”
King has advantages Charlotte
never thought of. First of all there
is only one stop light. Now any
one who drives knows the fewer
lights he has to contend with the
better, but the stop light in King
holds a rather peculiar position.
The people in town fought ’till
they got it and ever since have
been bragging about it—but no one
ever pays it the slightest bit of at
tention when it’s red. They just
keep right on going, and “Bad Eye
Beasley” — our law enforcement
agent—never knows the difference.
The second great advantage is
the party lines. At first it upset
me no end to have an audience
every time I made a phone call, but
tlien it dawned on me that I could
listen, too. The, first time I tried,
I got a new recipe for spagetti and
.found out Mrs. B. was going to
(have another baby. Day before
yesterday I heard that my husband
was taking a couple hours off to
watch the World Series on Mrs.
S’s television—it was the first I
knew of it.
Then there is the garbage ser
vice. The most unique part of
this is the man \yho collects it.
He drives a- beat-up old Ford truck,
is always dressed in white shirt
and tie and is extremely crossed-
'eyed. The first morning he came,
we became involved in a lenghty
discussion on the various types of
garbage, during which I kept shift
ing and moving trying to get in
his line of vision. Finally he
quiped, “Just might as well give
up Miz H. You’ll never look me
straight in the eye.” Since then
when discussing garbage with him
I always stand stiff as a board
and stare at the bridge of his nose.
Then there is the hospitality. I
(soon learned that no one ever locks
their doors and that after you’ve
visited someone once it’s quite
proper to just walk in the next
time and scream for them. How
ever, I find that this has a few
disadvantages. One morning I was
in the kitchen and heard someone
♦v'andering around the house. I
Walked out and walked smack into
a perfectly strange man in our bed
room. Undecided whether to run
or faint, I just kinda’ gasped and
stood still. Slowly he turned and
said, “Howdy, Miz H. Em Lem
and Eye come for Dr. Bill’s dry
cleanin. I was just looking around
the house.” I was so relieved I
gave him practically everything
wool in the house and I haven’t
gotten the bill paid yet.
What else will happen I don’t
know, but King is much more fun
than the city.
By Betsy Liles
Fanny Freshman was making her nightly
pilgrimage to Moe’s shrine on her dresser
when the lights blinked.
“Suffering Sophomores,” squeeked Fanny
grabbing Moe’s picture (the one taken in his
Waughtown Valley Academy uniform).
“Eleven thirty and I haven’t written Moe a
letter since yesterday. And, ’lo, I’ve just got
to fell him about Rat Week!
With a sly smile and an evil look in her
eyey Fariny gashed to the closet, tossed out
her furs, and tossed in a lamp, her stationery
and a copy of “Guide Sheet to Love Letters
and Term Papers.” Her mouth screwed up in
a bitter chuckle as she strung black curtains
across her transom. Slithering on her stomach
into the closet, she bade her roommate sweet
dreams and uncapped her fountain pen.
“Moe, my dearest,
’Lo, if you had only been here these past
days. My lily whites are reduced to red
nub^ from washing socks and more socks.
The Kinston mob was fiendish — they wore
their socks inside and out for two weeks.
And our costumes, ’lo, how lowly! But I
was quite conniving—the first day in Old
Chapel when they stripped me of my black
skirt and sweater, they thought they had me
stymied. But Moe, now dig me, I had. five
more black skirts and sweaters and I didn’t
give out of outfits ’til Tuesday night.
I was truly pierced to the roote when a
hand thrust some scented papyrus and a style
at me and snarled “Write!” IT stood over me
while I scribbled in Arabic hieroglyphics
(now, Moe, puh-leze don’t be peeved) a love
letter to Davidson. As inexperienced and shy
as 1 am, I managed to fill one page. I was
mildly surprised when I received four frater
nity pins by return mail and some few hund
red boys serenaded me outside my window
last night. And Moe (you’ll be proud of me
for this) I was selected as “the girl with the
most R. A. (rat appeal).”
Intelligently speaking, the cerebral nuerons
in the sophomore craniums are definitely in
hibited. One sophomore had me translate her
French—and, dig me, Moe, I did every sen
tence wrong! Lo, I’m inclined to be suspicious
that it was she who squirted green chloro
phyll toothpaste on your picture, Moe.
But Moe, dearest, we frosh really swept
over the sophs at Rat Court. That night in
Old Chapel, the tension was mounting whei^
I was given my Rat Court assignment — to
propose to the Biology professor. In the
glare of the footlights, I strode up to him
masterfully, bent him back from the waist
like a lily and whispered to him in a thrilling
low voice that I acquired at Miss Reigner’s
speech lab. Everyone afterwards told me it
was a breath of pure passion.
After rat court was over, it was a touching
sight to see the sophomores drag themselves
to bed with great shaking sighs of relief.
After I had carried several more delicate ones
to the infirmary, I did my nightly pushups
and I must, I must” exercises.
And Moe; dearest, that is the tale. I hope
you are fairing as well as I. Don’t forget to
drink your Ovaltine every night. My thoughts
are constantly and forever with you and the
other Waughtown Valley Boys.
Kisses, Kisses, Kisses,
Fanny
As the church clock struck' two, sweet
Fanny s little form curled up around her shoe
rack as a tender sneer escaped from her lips
and she fell asleep dreaming of next year’s
Rat Week.