A ways back I posted about my one year at Stephens College in Columbia, MO. I wasn't going to embarrass myself by giving up more details about that time but, what the hey. If I can't laugh at myself who can I laugh at? Wait - that's not a good example because my life revolves around laughing at people.
If you need to refresh your memory or if you're tuning in late - feel free to go back and, you know, refresh.
Here's a picture of Stephens taken off their site. Nothing looks familiar. Is that bad? Well, it has been over 40 years so - what did you expect? Also, let's remember I was only there for a year which is, in reality, 9 months.
Here's my dorm, Roblee Hall. And, no, I didn't remember the name. I looked at the list of dorms and by process of elimination I came up with this one. I was on the 3rd floor. There was an elevator but we weren't allowed to use it except when we moved in and when we moved out. From the web site I see there is a dorm that allows pets. That hadn't been invented when I was there. Lucky girls now, eh?
I also got a look at some of the rooms. We didn't have lofts back then nor did we have the luxury of ceiling fans. Wow, things sure have changed over the past 40-some years.
Greek life: back in the olden days there was a local sorority - nothing national, though. It sounds like I cared but I didn't. We, in the Brachman family, have a long-standing tradition against fraternities/sororities. My great nephew, Cody, has broken through that particular barrier at American University. We haven't decided how we feel about his rebellion - yet.
My classes: they were grueling. 1) Flower arranging. I had to know the scientific names for the flowers. Wait a second - you mean a rose isn't a rose? I still kind of suck at the arranging thing too so I'm thinking that was a waste of money. 2) Art. I will never forget a painting project the class had. Afterward we put our pieces up in front of the room for the professor to critique. His words were, "Brachman, I can tell which one is yours from here." Not in a nice way. The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife. Bastard scarred me for life. Not really, I just wanted to call him a bastard. 3) Dance. I believe I talked about my experience in dance class in another post - something about what a fabulous dancer I am now but I'm not sure so here's a recap. I had never taken a dance class in my life before walking through the doors of Stephens and it was glaringly apparent when class began. Think "Ellie Mae" from the Beverly Hillbillies. I couldn't even get my leg up on the barre. I did, however, kill when it came to castanets. Too bad I was supposed to be doing something with my feet at the same time. That was a mess. 4) Lastly. I'm sure there were more classes. I periodically have horrid flashbacks, still to this day, of my time spent in English class. Ds all the way through. What the hell was she talking about anyway? But let's talk about something less horrid: my newspaper reading class. I'm pretty sure that wasn't the name of it but that's all I can remember. It sounded like a cinch. All I had to do was read a newspaper everyday. It was even delivered to my dorm room. You're already getting an image of a mountain o' newspapers (unread) in the corner of my room, aren't you?
As I said in my earlier post (you've gone back to read it, right?), I don't regret my time at Stephens. After all, that's when I met Petey. No he wasn't a student there, silly. Remember? All girls college? It was a good experience and I met some cool people.
We will not revisit that time again. I promise. How much can one take, eh?