The Arches connected the 2 College Buildings |
A Sophomore, I am living in residence at Mount Mary College. I have a room on the 4th floor which I share with a roommate. All my housing needs are provided within the college plant, which in the forties consisted of 2 main buildings. The Mount Mary Arches is a walkway separating the resident hall called Caroline Hall from the adjacent college hall, Notre Dame Hall, where all my classes are held, including the chapel on the 2nd floor. I am free to wander through the college and within the rooms as long as no class is in session. This is my home away from home. Always fun for me to take the elevator to the 4th floor and observe what the art students are up to . The library, too, was a quiet place to study. When not studying I would frequently search the stacks for Children's Literature, so readily available, sit down and enjoy. To move between buildings on bad weather days, blizzard, blowing snow, wind, hale, sweeping rain, I would hunch up, gathering my clothing around me, open the outside door, and bravely make a run across from one building to the other building, yank open the heavy door opposite and welcome the warmth therein. Or I could choose a warm tunnel beneath the Arches and cross underground. The tunnel was gray cement with large, covered pipes running end to end along the ceiling.
September 18, 1946 is the evening I wrote a letter in my dorm room to Bruce Stewart who had enlisted in the Army Air Force. I felt prohibited from writing a letter to Bruce previously, [Emily Post]. Today much of this faded away from long, long, long ago Victorian days. Both sex and table proprieties. I ask myself if my grandchildren are even aware of life lived by ordinary folks in the years preceding World War II [grandpa and me and families preceding us]. We were told ʻif ever we were to make something of ourselves we must behave properlyʼ [meaning Emily Post manners]. A far cry from the public burps, curses, farts and bodily freedoms and girth and addictions which are common today. Somehow, unbeknownst, we, as a people, in spite of ʻthou doth protest too loudlyʼ are well along in recognizing our animal connection. Good? Bad? Is what it is. Perhaps some balance, some refinement to find some middle ground is wisdom here. Are we more than animals? Now I feel I am free to write because men in service need our letters, especially from girlfriends. Isn't that so? Permission granted. Should this seem incredible to you I checked it out a few days ago with a friend of mine and she said this was definitely so. Her mother would have been very stressed had any one of her 3 daughters been so feisty.
Bruce' ID# changed when he went to Shaw AFB South Carolina. This letter is transcribed from the actual letter I hold in my hand.
Bruce' ID# changed when he went to Shaw AFB South Carolina. This letter is transcribed from the actual letter I hold in my hand.
I sent my letter off to the
Hebron address and Mrs. Stewart forwarded it for me. Crossed out Mr. and wrote:
Pvt Bruce Stewart R.A.16032521
Flight 895 SB-23
3543rd BU AAFMTC
San Antonio Texas
Dorm evening fashion |
This is a first letter. I would spend many evenings sitting around in my robe, listening to radio, studying, writing letters home and to my serviceman friend.
Plain Bates bedspreads were practical decor |
Chenille was in for robes but some chose chenille bedspreads. Bates spreads were collegiate choice as best for lounging around on our beds. Our twin spreads were light blue Bates with a white sailboat motif. The furnishings, bed, dresser, desk, were metal. I wrote to Bruce frequently now, every 2 or 3 days, except winter-spring of 1949 when I was steady dating Bob Durocher from Iron Mountain MI who was enrolled in the College of Business Administration at Marquette, University. Reading these letters today it is as if I am looking into a diary or journal. I have them because Bruce saved my letters, as did his mother after he returned home in 1950. Daughter, Joan, a diary keeper, respectfully valued them through our many family moves, keeping them safely in their original shoebox. I have the collection from 1946 through summer of 1950. These are a resource for dates and what occurred in that period of time. Pray you enjoy. One can easily spot my immaturity yet additionally how much I was expected to conform as a female in society and did-- a profile.
Hat, scarf, nylons, little heels. Seems I forgot to wear my gloves. |
And perhaps further that profile of a young, Catholic female prior to Vatican II with the right to vote yet not so much equality otherwise. I was to keep to my pedestal, as Jesus Mother Mary, my model, and hers but a flat profile I must emulate, not the substantial woman she truly was. I am at this Catholic Women's college which in the forties retains some of the finishing school qualities providing this girl with the kind of formation required to become the best kind of woman this religious culture needs her to be. I sopped it up. Called enculturation. My mother tried her best. My hunch what helped create a more real young woman profile for our school were the 'day-hops', many working to pay their own fees as well as living at home. They rode bus rather than taxi transportation. Later years my youngest cousin, Karen, spent days at Mount Mary. She will share her version if you ask.
How come I never heard you ever say, "Pweese, Brucey!" as you did then ?????? LOL
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