A Freshman Writes Home

Letters of Last Year by Member of Class of '43; Second Installment Describes the Winter Season

[The following letters were written tothe folks at home by a freshman in Hanover a year ago. This is the second groupof letters published in the series. Theywere selected by Prof. Herbert F. West '22,but not edited by him for spelling, punctuation, or phrasing.—ED.]

801 N. Hamp.Dec. 7, '39.

Dear Folks, It was certainly swell to get back home for a few days. (Thanksgiving recess.—Ed.) I guess that's what I needed. Dad is probably anxious to know how I came out in that French hour exam, so I will withhold the awful truth no longer. D plus is my claim to fame, and while it is far from flunking, the mark will at least prevent you, mother, from informing my intensely interested public that I am unreported low in any subject. Oh well, maybe I got something more valuable than just a bad mark out of it. I've been thinking the situation over, and the fact that I had done my daily assignments quite religiously leads me to believe that I just concentrated on the wrong points when I reviewed. It ought not to happen again. They marked the exam rather stiffly, and my friend Parker (the one from Iowa) got a top grade with an 81. Thus the best student in any section missed about go points somewhere. When you say that 39% passed the exam it sounds sort of silly, but that's the truth. Enough. SON.P.S. Am now out of stamps.

Dec. 16, 1939.

Dear Folks:

I was thinking the other day about Christmas, and incidentally, of course, what I most need about this time. Besides a new suit, a pair of nice, long, woolen, skiing socks (long enough for my new ski knickers) would be nice. Since I have out grown my flannel shirt, one of those would come in very handy.

Mother, I hope you'll be thinking up something nice for me to give Brenda. I don't think she'd want a Dartmouth dog (plush, stuffed.—Ed.) for a bed, do you? She might like a compact with seal, or locket, or something though. By the way, considering compacts with seals, etc., what and to whom am I going to give feminine gifts this year. Advice and suggestions would be well accepted. Maybe something nice for Joan, no?

The hockey team needs practice, but basketball looks good. The game with Fordham tonight was piparoo. Broberg -20 points.

Love, son.

Jan. 13, 1940.

Happy Birthday Dad!

I've lost count of just what one it is, but I'm just as glad. Anyway, you don't look a day older than 35 to me. Well, this has really been a happy year for all of us, hasn't jt? No kicks here at least.

With all this snow on the ground I certainly hate this business of studying all afternoon and heeling from 6.30 till about 9.30 every night. The pay-off on this racket better be worth the while!

Rec ski classes are going on at the golf course every day, and I also understand that it wouldn't have taken too much to make the Freshman ski team this year. A young gentleman by the name of Meservi (this boy is Professor Meservy's son.Ed.) is about the only guy on the squad with any real ability.

Right now it's snowing aplenty. I guess I better get in plenty of skiing during vacation or I won't even get a smell this year.

Love, Son.

Jan. 25, 1940.

Dear Folks,

A half hour to go before a Social Science final and I've just quitstudying, principally because I was running across too many things about which I did not know "nuttin."

All the exams are held in the gym, and my first one was quite an experience. English went pretty well, although I drew a blank on Tennyson. I sort of had a brainstorm and could hardly recall his name. The next day I had Class. Civilization, and possibly I guessed at too many of the true and false questions. I should have done okay in both of them, however.

Tell Dad his last letter was a swell one! I get quite a few letters from quite a few sources, but somehow the ones you folks write are way out in front.

Same day. Night now.

Well I postponed sending your letter because I had to beat it for the exam, and I didn't have time to finish. The exam was plenty stiff, but I got a kick out of it. It was wholly essay, and you know how I like to write. (Of course it's much easier if you know something about what you're writing about.)

After lunch I felt in a rebellious and devil-may-care mood, so I went up skating with a bunch of the boys in the dorm. I've never played on a regular rink before. We had a swell game, although I've got to learn something about the body check business pretty darn soon or suffer some horrible consequences.

Love, Son

P.S. Seeing Hedy Lamar in a show this evening not only convinced me that I'm not really in love, but also added finis to my financial status. Should I draw out some money before the new semester or what?

Feb. 13, 1940.

Dear Folks,

Once again we buy books, see new profs, and begin strange courses. I didn't write sooner about carnival because I figured that the A s would be going thru and would give you all the dope! But I guess they didn't, so I'll begin.

John and I collected our hard earned passes Thursday afternoon, and prepared for the "storm" of carnival. Thursday night we both went to a meeting for final instructions as to policing the Moose Mt. downhill trail. With enough jockeying around we both finally got ourselves located up on the trail, and Friday morning found us with front seats on the trickiest turn of the trail. Some fun!

I had a chance to work over at Stell Hall for the ski dinner Saturday night, so I didn't get to see the basketball game. Judith had one swell time, and don't let anyone tell you different! Friday night after the "Evening" (Outdoor Evening on the Golf Course.—Ed.) was Judy's only potential dead spot, and I sort of helped out there by escorting her to the Freshman dance. We had a grand time and danced to the Green Collegians.

.... I stood 2.4, and that was plenty good news. (First semester marks, about average.Ed.)

Colby Carnival next week end, but my hopes aren't too high. I think I'm taking a beating in that league.

Love, son

Feb. 20, 1940.

Dear Folks,

Colby! Ah yes. It was a grand week end and I met a wonderful girl. Art Brown and I went down, bumming both ways, and we had a swell time. I've had too much luck with blind dates lately. I guess I'm due for a real lemon pretty soon. The formal was a lot of fun, and after fooling around a little Sunday, we came back in time to do a little studying Sunday afternoon. At a church supper (we were plenty broke, both of us, and did things as inexpensively as possible all week-end) to which we took the girls I met Dot H. . . and her date. It was quite a shock to look across the table and see the "Carnival date" I had been nursing all fall. But, the new one is way ahead. Connecticut has won again. Marian S. . . . (that's the dream girl's name) comes from Hartford, and she is plenty okay.

It's been snowing up here for 24 hours, and if you don't strike ideal ski conditions, Dad, nobody ever will. Now please come up.

Love, son