1 H E SAL EMITE
January 16. 19S^
WUo. Ale. A(ua?... Christmas In Provence
Who are we now? Have we changed in
any way during the years or months that we
have bgen at Salem?
Knowledge has changed us . . . We have
changed! Through the study of science we
Irave leajmed that our world is an ordered
one with laws to govern it. We have realized
the vastness of the universe and our own in
significance in comparison. Through the study
of history we have discovered the necessity
of governing well such a world. In spite of
our insignificance, we have learned the part
tiiat man plays in the course of events.
Through the study of religion we have found
the Power from which comes our own power
to enable us to do these things.
Great characters of the past have changed
us ... In philosophy and theology we have
come upon such characters as Plato, Augus
tine, Calvin, Descartes, Locke, Marx people
-who, eitlier by our agreement or disagreement
with them have added and given strength to
our own beliefs. Ideas of men of literature,
too — Milton, Shakespeare, Goethe, Sartre,
fJoyce—we have absorbed and made a part of
our lives. They have given us new methods
of expressing ourselves. Great historical char
acters, whether they be Napoleons, Elizabeths
or Lincolns, have given us ideals by which
to shape our lives.
Teachers have changed us . . . They are the
ones who present the knowledge and the ideas
to us. It is the same knowledge, the same
ideas, but with each person the interpretation
is different. So we are confronted not only
with our interpretation, but with that of Dr.
Singer, Miss Byrd, Dr. Welch, Dr. Lewis and,
all the rest. One puts the emphasis here,
another, there. And we take all of it, put it
together, and arrive at another seif.
Other students have changed us . . . We
have learned that people from Texas and New
York are fundamentally the same as we. More
important still, we have learned this about
the people from France, Germany, Finland,
Austria and Holland. We have learned fur
ther that in spite of the sameness, there are
differences, and those differences which we
liked we have tried, perhaps unconsciously,
to make likeness. New environment has
brought new ideas, new expressions, which
we adopt or discard. AVe hav'e gained under
standing of wli3' our friends act as they do,
and thus understanding of our own feelings
Who are we now? We are ourselves, un-
deniahlj', for there is nobody else like us. But
we are new selves because of other people.
AVe are a part of the past, a part of the pre
sent. And this new, broader self enables us
to become a useful part of the future.
OFFICES Lower floor Main Hall
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Published every Friday of the College year by the
Student Body of Salem College
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By Guillemette Roussel ! sided stable. Behind rises a green
The atmosphere of a Christmas hill. Paths lead down to the sta t
celebration in Provence is extra- and
on these paths
folks of Provence hurry to adore
ordinary. In this old French pro- . enfant Jesus,
vince on the Mediterranean coast | An old woman on her donkey
the people have very strictly kept ' rides down clasping a great coiin
the ancient traditions. They use jj-y loaf as big as a wheel, w i e
to play—in fact they really live— • ^ young mother, carrying her ba y
the story of “Noel” with a wonder- ^ wooden cradle on her head,
fill simplicity and devotion of spirit, swings downhill with the unimi-
Christmas Eve is clear. The keen table bearing of a peasant accus-
mountain air smells of snow; the tom'ed to headloads; a granny, in
whole village, actors and audience f,er hand the sticks she has been
together, is making its way through gathering to warm the Child, an-
ancient, narrow streets to the Qther with eggs in a bucket; an-
twelfth-century church. Open other spinning wool as she ambles
doors and lighted windows give along on donkeyback; another
glimpses of shepherdesses arrang- woman driving a couple of tur-
ing their “fichus”, of angels having keys; a seller of nougat; an orange
their hair arranged by their seller.
mothers, while church bells clamor Then the village “tambourinaire ,
through the night. without whom no gathering is com-
Near the church the “creche” is plete, arrives to play some of his
installed, set out in traditional man- store of tunes to amuse the new
ners with real actors. born babe. He wears the musi-
An altar bell is rung, an Ave is cian’s traditional dress, short coat,
sung, and the choir of angels sud- broad hat and white leggings,
denly bursts forth from one knows The Biblical characters begin, of
not where. Then silence. Deep, course, with the shepherds. They
waiting silence, fired with expect- kneel near the crib, their sheep
ancy. From a side of the chapel Jying about them. The head shep-
a moving light is seen; St. Joseph herd carries a lamb which has on
comes forth, leading a young and hs head a little wheel stuck with
iveary virgin. Dim lights through- five candles; the second shepherd
out the building denote the closed leads a ram decorated with candles
windows of “mas” and cottages, and flowers, and is accompanied by
In front of each stands the house- children all dressed up as little St.
holder, wondering who has awaken- fohns.
ed him, who these may be who Rams are selected and their wool
travel so late through the wintry washed and painted in colors; rib-
night. bons are woven about their heads
The Innkeeper wears his night- and lighted candles fixed to their
shirt and a night cap; according to horns. These sires of the flock
his traditional role he is as crdsty are brought to kneel before the
as an innkeeper may be. The creche.
conversation between himself and Under the sheltered roof, the
St. Joseph is carried on in song; Virgin kneels by the crib, a very
then he sends off the tired couple conventional young virgin; St.
roughly. So they seek the shelter | Joseph stands as conventionally be-
offered by a stable which becomes I hind, while the two beasts complete
the birthplace of the Infant the group.
Saviour. All are assembled before the
After this, all becomes marvel- creche. A spokesman greets the
lous. When the angels’ voices, Child; a final chorus salutes the
shrill and soulless, suddenly ring Holy Family and, in true medieval
out from unseen nooks about the manner, the actors make a vow.
church, everyone looks upward, j They solemnly undertake to per-
every heart beats quicker, all is
marvelous. And from every cor-
, ner a shepherd’s voice replies. This
heavenly-human dialogue goes on
for hours. Angels, of course, sing-
in Latin, shepherds in Provencal.
The crib is situated in an open-
form their Pastorale again in the
future with an engagement to com
pose new verses during the inter-
\al. After the vow is made, the
congregation comes into the dim
old church where it composes it
self for Midnight Mass.
Edilor-in.Chief Eleanor McGregor
Associate Editors Anne Lowe, Peggy Chears
Managing Editor Jean Calhoun
News Editors Jane Schoolfieid, Lorrie Dirom
Feature Editors Eleanor Johnson, Connie Murray
Feature Assistant Cynthia May
Copy Editor Sally Reiland
Make-up Editor Allison Long
Art Editor Ruthie Derrick
Pictorial Editor *. Jeanne Harrison
Feature Writers: Laurie Mitchell, Ruthie Derrick, Sally
Reiland, Emma Sue Larkins, Francine Pitts, Margie Ferrell,
Betsy Liles, Betty Tyler, Jane Brown, Betty Lynn Wilson,
Elsie Macon. Jo Bell.
Reporters; Betsy Liles, Diane Knott, Dot Morris, Alison
Britt, Bessie Smith, Jean Edwards, Allison Long, Sara Out-
land, Mary Anne Raines, Edith Flagler, Elsie Macon, Anne
Simpson, Jane Smith, Barbara Allen, Connie Murray, Laura
Mitchell, Myra Dickson, Sue Harrison, Drane Vaughn.
Business Manager Faye Lee
Advertising Manager Joan Shope
Circulation Manager Jean Shope
Faculty Advisor Miss Jess Byrd
By Hadwig Stolwitzer J
Have you ever seen a princess
in her Fed chamber? No? You:
should see Mit. The royal air with !
which she dismisses me after I
have helped her unbotton her dress,
saying with a wave of her hand:
You can go now. Of course I must
come in again some minutes later
to tell her goodnight. By then she
usuallv has already nearly dozed
I had never dreamt to pass a
Christmas vacation in an American '
family, playing with the children.
If anyone had told me this a year
ago I would have thought he had
gone nutty. When 1 first heard
about it I was a little skeptical.
What would American children be
like? Were they going to be ex
tremely self-assured or extremely
shy of a stranger.
Actually they were neither. And
compared to European children
they have one great asset: They
are much more self-reliant. Just
look at Mit. She is six years old,
but she is really nearly grown up I
already, (At least she thinks so.) i
Of course she has a boyfriend. :
She has picked him because he has i
such handsome teeth. He rides '
with her in the same school bus |
every morning. Unfortunately the '
friendship has not gotten beyond
the stage of distant admiration yet.
She has only talked to him once,
over the telephone, when he could
not make out who she was.
The next oldest is T. He is
eight. His hobby is large game '
hunting. The other day he spotted
an owl in the backyard. I was very ’
excited when he offered to take
me on the hunting trip with him.
Even though at that particular !
moment I was wearing my best
dress and nylon stockings, I de
cided to go at once.
I was the kuli and carried an old
skipping rope and a gray paper
We were going to lasso the
first and then put the paper
bag over her head. We stalked
the owl carefully. I was nearly
flat on my stomach with my best
dress on. Unfortunately the owl
was gone when we at last arrived
in the back yard.
K. is the eldest. Her hobby is
cooking. So we decided to make
sweets. The preparations were
long and complicated. We had to
get nuts, evaporated milk and all
kinds of sugar. Then we had to
cook it to a soft ball stage. So
we kept dropping the sticky mess
into a glass of water to see if we
had already cooked it long enough
so that it would make a ball.
The glass was nearly filled with
the concoction and the pan was
emptied considerably when finally
our patience was at an end and
we decided to give up cooking-
ball stage or not. Besides the room
was beginning to smell suspiciously
of something burning.
So the next step was to mix the'
mess with chopped nuts. We did
it in the electric mixer. But when
we finally turned the current off,
even the bowl of the mixer seemed
to have been mixed with the sticky
stuff which had by that time turned
stone hard. So we scraped with
the kitchen knife to save whatever
The resulting sweets finally
tasted delicious. But our pleasure
was considerably diminished by the
amount of dirty dishes and pans
which it took us literally hours to
After my days were thus pleasur
ably spent, the crucial moment
came for me with bed time hour
(in case there was no parental
authority present). I had to make
the children go to bed. I needed
all my persuasion to move them to
quit television. But I have done it.
By Betsy Liles
Pierre’s Basement was a fog of smoljt
Couples swayed to and fro to the soft musii
of a juke box in the corner. Draped ovet
the juke box, ripe for adventure, lurked Sail;
Salem. With a bored air she was chantin;
a few hundred lines of Paradise -Lost. Sail;
was truly a tvoman of moods, for suddenl;
something within her caused her eyebrows to
lift and wiggle like antennae. Then sit
noticed him. It was as if Destiny was draw
ing Sally; she slinked over to him.
Harry Street looked up tvith a dark drcp
scowl at Sally Salem, who pursed a cigaretfe
between her lips. Gazing at him througl
half-closed eyes, Sally leaned over the countei
at Pierre’s and batted her eyelashes. Zippei
into her roommate’s red velveteen aal
swathed with a purple veil, she looked hall
witch—and she knew it.
Harry looked into Sally’s exotic eyes, anl
he was swept up by the waves of her per
fume (it had been on sale at the book stoii
and Sally couldn’t resist it either). You'n
. very beautiful.” Harry choked.
Sally gurgled oh, you really shouldn’t sa;
that. Cutting her way through the smofa
she slid into the booth beside Harry. Ha
eyes slithered over him as he lit her cigarettf
He’s so cuddlesome, her thoughts raced. Hi
sweet watery eyes, the way he chokes wliti
he smokes, his three day beard and his grea
big nice fraternity pin.
‘T need you,” Harry murmured,
melted. “I can’t pay the check,” he addel
She managed to smile and slip a nickel und(
the coffee cup. Then Harry whispered hnsH
in a soft soprano, “Let’s hippity-hop right
of here.” And dragged Sally and the purp:
veil out of Pierre’s.
Sally and Harry walked out into the nigli
There was a magicness in the air. The M
raviaii band played gently in the backgrouii
and some sweet buzzards cooed to each otto
in the treeL They stopped by the lily po
and looked at their images in the water, at
then, as the clock began to bong, Han
walked his lady back to her dorm. Swishii
her purple veil around her, she signed in wi
her left hand and caught Harry with t
right. “You’ll call again, wontcha?” B
Harry was the artiste type ... he only snarlt
mysteriously and stumbled out the door.
But Sally was undaunted.; she knew Har
would call; she ate her meals in the teleph®
booth so .she would be sure to hear the photo
But alas, Harry didn’t call. After that, daj
became nightmares. The little buzzards
longer cooed in the treetops. Sally used
her cuts hanging out across the street
Miserably, she wasted down to 155 pouni
She had desperate thoughts of joining H
French Foreign Legion and being an amb
lance driver. But worst of all, she even
visions of Harry holding hands with a bloni
—the kind that calls everybody “dahliai
Finally, Sally admitted it to herself—she ff*'
Then one afternoon, as Sally sat pincliinl
her straw at Pierre’s, her hair stood on
Her blood began to boil and she felt dh*!
Wheeling around, she saw HIM. HaarrrrM
Harry said not a word, but gathered 1
up in his arms. “Can you ever forgive me'
he choked. With tears flooding down i*®
cheeks and mussing her purple veil,
mutely nodded. And outside she heard
cooing of the buzzards build into a cresceni’
Then Harry Street shyly took hold of
hand and sweetly snarled at her. You
Harry was snowed too!