Transitions are never easy. We are habitual creatures and enjoy life when all goes along as usual. Move-in day my freshman year of college is a memory like none other. It is representative of life going any way but the usual.
My parents drove my roommate, Nancy, and me to the small town of Pulaski, TN, about 70 miles south of Nashville. Daddy had done his very best at getting everything into the trunk or between Nancy and me in the back seat.
When we arrived at the address we’d received for our dorm, we found a mass of cars, parents, and other students. Dad began to unload the car, and Nancy and I ran ahead to the front doors of the building. When we gave the receptionist our names, she had less than a large smile on her face.It was not good news. The room assigned to us was on the first floor. Unfortunately, the first floor of this brand new building was still under construction. The first thing that popped into my mind was where would we sleep that night. But better yet, where we would shower the next morning?
Our housemother arrived just then with new living arrangements. We would be living on the third floor of the home of the Dean of Students and his young family. The dean’s home was in an old Victorian house. This meant no air conditioning and no bath on the third floor.
The Housing Office had gone out of its way to provide comfortable accommodations. Finding space for eight freshmen girls and one sophomore “big sister” in one place was a challenge. However, the situation provided the nine of us with the opportunity to get to know each other in a smaller community. Solid friendships were formed during this time.
Many good memories grew out of this experience. We did get noisy at times. Dean White had a clever way of alerting us to lower the noise level. He used the light switch at the bottom of the stairs to douse us into total darkness if we were bothering his family.
Spending your freshman year in college at “The White House” is not something everyone can brag about!
That was clever of Dean White. Hopefully he didn’t leave you in the dark too long, Sherrey. The college campus looks beautiful. My grandfather was a Methodist minister
Dean White was not only clever, but also a good prof and friend for years to come. The school has grown since 1964-66 (it was only a two-year college at the time), and I am amazed at changes I see when I read newsletters. Nice to know where your faith came from. I was raised in the Methodist church, and when Bob and I married, we landed in the Presbyterian church, where he had been raised. Not much difference between the two.
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