Page 22 - 1917 February - To Dragma

1 1 4 TO DRAGMA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI
DORMITORIES—OUR COLLEGE HOMES
I . How W E M A K E OUR DORMITORY A H O M E
In a big fat book labeled "Dictionary" I discovered a horrible fact.
Dormitory signifies a place to sleep in, and a resting place for the
dead. Since, I have peered into the corners of M t . Vernon and failed
to discover anything resembling a dead body. M t . Vernon House,
dormitory, is not a burial place. It's the most wonderful home built
on a wholesale plan there ever was, and it is a home because of the
people.
A recipe reads usually somewhat like this: Take one egg, a pinch
of salt, and one teaspoonful of so and so. The recipe for our home
is unwritten, and as follows: Take thirty healthy girls, a lot of under- not fear to come back to us, we have our Sunday night lunch on the
standing, sift out all constraint, and add one housemother who is
unparalleled.
We study because the faculty says we must, " M a " helping us, and
we live because we love it. After dinner which is served i n a low-
ceilinged room with many small tables, a huge fireplace, and
unrestrained conversation, one very good feature, we dance in the
long hall between the reception room and the dining-room, to the
music of the victrola, which " M a " bought f o r us. You can't help
knowing a person after you have begged her pardon for treading on
her pet, tenderly guarded corn. Half of the girls know how to lead,
and play the man's part as well as true masculine followers of Mr.
Castle. The freshmen take care of the victrola, changing the records
and needles, but it is good to notice that upperclassmen will take
their place when the freshmen are farthest from the machine.
Sunday nights are the real "home" nights. Lunch is served in the
reception room where there is a cheery glow in the fireplace. There
are no lights, except two shaded ones on the serving tables. Upper-
classmen usually sit at the tables and the freshmen serve. We hold
our plates in our laps and sit in companionable groups, forget that
there are biology and psychology textbooks squatting complacently
on desks upstairs, and exchange opinions on the last fraternity dance,
while the little, fluffy, powder-puff dog runs about sniffing for wee
tastes of things, which dog etiquette will not allow us to give him.
Lunch over, pillows are thrown before the fire with an indiscrimi-
nate mass of home-loving girls upon them, and we sing the" usual
college songs, and possibly someone reads. It's home, rest, and
healthy diversion.
But you can't call any sort of a structure a home unless there is a probably or perhaps some fern, yet, however small the leaf and unpre-
mother. Ours is a home, and ours truly an understanding mother—
not the "rush-around-at-clubs" kind, or "many-cooks-leave-because-of-
TO DRAGMA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI 115
her" sort, not built with any special specifications, but she is what
each one of us wants her, for in everyone's life there is a time when
two arms are needed to hold you tight and a heart a bit older that
can tell you why.
Are you "scairt" o' finals? You're a fraid-cat. We're not. I n the
afternoons when we come in a l l tired out by a hard one, and pretty
much discouraged, we find " M a " serving cozy afternoon tea, and the
girls curled up in front of the bright, cheery open fire. Then when
the last final is over, we pull down the curtains in the reception room,
and every girl i n dressing gown and pigtail comes in, and may do
anything from reading Ibsen \o turning somersaults.
And when the snow slips away to just the hilltops and Spring does
porch, and it isn't what you're thinking. It's a long vista of shadows
that creep from the huge white pillars, and the fluffy white lace shrubs
at the edge have been sprinkled with perfume.
We're happy, that's all—but it's a lot.
JOYCE CHENEY, T '19.
I I . T H E SESAMK
I am wondering how many of you girls thought as you entered your
dormitory after the Christmas holidays "how unlike home it all is,"
and i f any of you longed for your own sweetest room at home. I am
sure that some of you did anyway, but I am not so certain that the
thought of home carried with it a thought of the things that make
your home so lovely. For instance, there is no need of "Sh-ing" in the
hall outside your room back home; no thoughtless person drops in to
borrow your best paper or pencil—and not return it. There was little
need of a "Busy" sign to ward off gossips during the time allotted
your studying in the high school days; all the family helped to keep
the house quiet for you. When you were sick in that dainty bed at
home, willing hands helped to lessen the tiresome hours of suffering
and little sister would bring up the prettiest plant or fern that it
might cheer you, and, too, someone's loving services daily ministered
to your comfort. Outside that room of yours which is possessed with
all of that individuality that your personality has lent it, there is not a
corridor lined with sentinel trunks, carpeted with linoleum, lighted
by day with windows, curtainless and staring, and by night with
swinging, white shaded globes. Rather is there a useful cheery hall
with a window seat at each end, freshly curtained windows, shaded
bracket-lamps and oh, most lovely of all—flowers; a window box
tentious the blossom, an abiding sesame of good cheer.