Seeing the incoming college newbies, both here and at PSU via online pics, I try to remember my arrival on campus back in 1970. These are the things I recall, although I will not swear to them because memory, many splendored though it is, often fails me.
First thing I remember is meeting my roomie, Sandy C, who seemed a nice guy, although in the long run that turned out to be not as accurate as it could have been. And then, second thing, I couldn’t wait for the parental unit to disappear. As soon as they did I found my way to another kid, Dave C, whom I asked where I could find some pot or hash. It was kind of a dumb thing to do because I had no idea who or what Dave C was. But Dave C said his roomie, Bruce L, could satisfy my needs. So I went to Bruce L, who was equally dumb because, not knowing me from Adam, he immediately told me I could score some wonderful red Lebanese hash from him. So I did.
Third thing I remember is hearing that there was some sort of welcoming speech by the president, also a newbie on campus as it happened. Together with a couple of other kids we agreed that on the whole we’d rather skip that BS. So we did.
Fourth thing I remember is the “house” meeting in the dorm, when the RA, Tom E, gave us all sorts of interesting things to think about, especially two things. First, he told us about something called “jammies,” which were outdoor music/dance parties sponsored by the various dormitory areas on campus, and that there’d be one that very evening, down at Pollock Halls. That evening, then, a group of us went down to Pollock Halls for a nifty evening. And Tom E told us of the party that he himself was going to host, in the study lounge in the “house,” that weekend, when he would be supplying us with two or three tubs of alcoholic entertainment. I’d never had any alcohol at all, pot being my drug of choice. But that weekend I got drunk for the first and last time. Why? Well, I woke up the next morning in a bathroom stall, with puke all over me. Did I need that to happen ever again? Nah.
As I recall, there was absolutely nothing of the cheerfully welcoming hand-holding that seems to be the default mode nowadays. No team building. No introduction to the campus and the mysteries of how to register for classes or how to do anything at all. The only “welcome” was my fifth memory, an announcement that we would all have to endure a swimming test to demonstrate that we wouldn’t drown as we walked across campus in the rain. And that we would also have to endure a “fitness” test, which entailed running a mile around the track in Rec Hall in seven minutes or less.
The swimming test was not a problem for me. I’d been swimming for longer than I’d been walking, so swimming across the pool was a doddle. What they didn’t tell us was that we were required to bring our own swimsuits. I walked over to the Natatorium in my trunks, so that was no big deal either. But a lot of kids didn’t do so, and didn’t have swimsuits with them. So they had to do the test naked. The tests were sex-segregated, so there was that. But I suspect that approach to things would not fly nowadays.
The “fitness” test, on the other hand, I failed miserably. I’d been smoking cigarettes from age thirteen, and was up to about two or three packs a day by the time I came to campus. There was no way I would run a mile, not in seven minutes, and maybe not even in seven hours. That meant that I was condemned to take remedial phys ed. Along with the other losers, though, I had a great time since the “remediation” entailed hanging around the indoor track in Rec Hall, making believe we were really trying to improve our stamina. I’ll admit that that “class,” which was actually graded, as were all the phys ed classes we were required to take in order to graduate, and single credit though it was, brought down my GPA. Instead of a 4.0 at the end of my first year, I ended up with a 3.98. That meant that I missed out on getting the President’s Freshman Award that year—although I did get it the next year, for some reason.
Somewhere in there, maybe at that first jammie in Pollock Halls, I met the young woman who would be my first love. To begin with she dated my roommate, but he blew it with her, and I was fortunate to have her accept me—how that happened I cannot remember. She must have been extra kind to me since I was, and still am, a dead loss in the dating game. We lasted together for about five months, and then I also blew it.
But that was long after my introduction to the university and the “orientation” that, for better or worse, none of us had.
