Fond Farewells
Farewell to you, Jolene Parks. You
have done a grand job as editor of the
deceased “Staff of Student Publications.”
It’s a brain-racking, time-consuming, and
usually thankless office, so we want to
take this opportunity to commend you,
Neal Harris, Ellinor Krieger, Betty Blount,
and the remainder of the Staff for the
Dialettes and for the lovely 1953 SUN
DIAL.
Good-bye to each Senior. Seniors are
a wonderful “invention”; it’s difficult to
imagine a college campus without them,
and it is especially difficult to imagine
our campus without you. Honestly, we’ll
miss you.
To the business students and all the
other students (like Dottie Todd) who will
not return to Montreat and to us in
September: we want you to know how
sorry we are that you won’t be among
us next year. Actually, you belong here!
Our thoughts, but especially our pray
ers, will be with you. Here are three
things to keep in your hearts and minds
the rest of your lives:
“And ye are not your own; for ye are
bought with a price: therefore, glorify God
in your body, and in your spirit, which
are God’s.” (I Cor. 6:19,20)
The abundant life .consists in sharing
the Lord Jesus Christ with others. God
does not call us to “selfish salvation.”
The things that you have heard, “com
mit thou to faithful men, who shall be
able to teach others, also.” (II Tim. 2:2)
When God chose Joshua to take Moses’
place as spiritual, as well as military,
leader of His people. He gave him these
wonderful promises. Because God has
chosen YOU, these same promises belong
to you also.
“Be thou strong and very courageous,
that thou mayest observe to do according
to all the law; . . . that thou mayest
prosper whithersoever thou goest.
“Have not I commanded thee? Be
strong and of a good courage; be not
afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the
LORD thy GOD is with thee whitherso
ever thou goest.” (Joshua 1: 7, 9)
Come back to see us!
With the fondest of wishes,
THE DIALETTE STAFF
Look Who Is In Among
THE DAVIDSON
BEAUTIES!
Jo Ella Dunaway
PROPHECY . . . Continued From Page 3
As she walked away, I mused, “She didn’t
mention the part of the day she spends
with that ‘camera bug’ of a husband of
hers. Well, Mary Ann always could get
twice as much into a day as anybody
else.”
The wind blows gently, and as the
breeze caresses the water’s surface, the
changing ripples bring Faye Britt into
view. Now here’s a real change of scen
ery! Faye is dressed in dark blue—why
yes, it’s an air force uniform. She has
just stepped into the cockpit of the plane
and I hear her say, “Here, dear, is your
coffee.” Her pilot husband, whom she
met while in basic at San Antonio, takes
the cup, and smiling, points to the plane
window. Faye looks out and down
through the fluffy clouds views a little
community nestled in the mountains. A
flood of memories overtake her. “Humm,”
she muses, “And to think I spent four
years (here studying to be a teacher!” The
plane then disappears into one of the
white clouds, which is itself reflected in
the water of the lake.
But the plane radio has not vanished,
for it seems I can hear over it a familiar
voice. Frances Davis. She is at the air
port working in second spot to Faye. She
schedules flights, and does many other
things that give her a chance to use that
mathematical mind of hers. Happily she
goes about her work, wearing the air
force blue too, but wearing also the
glasses that kept her down out of the
clouds. As a plane comes down the run
way, she rushes out to meet the flier
that is now her “special person”, and
arm in arm they walk chatting about the
skating party they plan for that night.
A cloud moves over the moon and makes
the shadows darker. But after a moment
I detect in the reflection, and perceive an
in'eresting story behind it. Frances Cur
ry sits in a circle of very attentive young
sters to whom she is obviously relating
an interesting story. She finishes, rises,
and turns to me. “I guess there’s just
nothing like teaching these first graders,”
she says. “Of course Ira thinks I should
give it up and just be a housewife, but
as much as I’ve loved these little people
during the past ten years and enjoyed
teaching them, I just can’t. Besides, he’s
away all day at work, and this quiet house
gets awfully lonesome.” She pauses, her
eyes rove around the circle of admirers,
and then she smiles lovingly at one little
blonde boy. “Meet my son,” she says
simply.
As her image faded in*o the obscurity
of the lake again, I thought, “Gosh, Fran
ces, it’s wonderful that all your dreams
came true! A happy home, kids, success
ful teaching. But it couldn’t have hap
pened to a nicer person.”
I watch intently as the shadows change
again. Two handsomely dressed women
come into view this time. I almost ri.se
from my seat when I recognize them to
be Pat Williams and my old roommate,
Martha Getsinger. They evidently have
just met, for after a gleeful “Montreat
hug”, they seem to be jabbering a mile
a minute, in fact both at once.
“Pat, tell me all”, says Martha. “Well
now, Martha, there’s not really much to
tell ...” was the modest reply. “Ten
years of teaching Shakespeare and Engli.sh
Literature . . . Right now I’m at the Uni
versity of South Carolina . . . It’s conven
ient that I can teach at the same place
as my husband . . . We do like teaching
there, it’s where we met six years ago
. . . Oh, thank you. I’m glad you like my
new book. It was just published two
months ago, you know. Tell me about
you. How have you been?”
“Me?” (Martha mischievou.sly laughs).
“That old preacher husband of mine ought
to be here to do that. You just ought
to meet him, Pat! He was just PRE
DESTINED to meet me while I was in
Hopewell working for Mr. Hill. My life
has been of the most simple and enjoy
able type. So happily complicated!
Preacher’s wife, part-time D.R.E., Bible
teacher—and Pat, you won’t know anything
about life until you’ve met my ‘four main
concerns’. Yes, we thought that was a
nice number too—two boys, two girls.
You must come to sec us soon! . . . Yes?
. . . Well, now! . . . Did you know . . .
Really? ...”
The two rush madly on exchanging out
standing information about the content
of the past ten years. Their pleasant
faces show their happiness at meeting
again. As they continue to talk, people
seem to come between them and me, hid
ing them from view. Oh, a fish splashing
in the water takes from view this whole
scene.
The ripples almost resemble mountains.
Maybe they are—or at least Kentucky
hills. And whose image should appear
among them but that of Helen Duke.
She says she’s been working in the same
area for all this long time, though not
always in the same church. “My young
people’s work is so challenging, and since
I do recreational work on the side, it
seems like an endless job. Oh, but I
love i.! I go to Montreal for the D.R.E.
conferences every summer, and always
sec dozens of old friends and alumnae.
Why, guess who I saw there about two
weeks ago. Kate Zuver. She and Mickie
were on vacation and just drove by for
old time’s sake. Kate says life is rather
uncomplicated now. Kathy is away at
college, and Byron is a senior in high
school.”
—Please Turn to Page 6
Dialette