May is cooperating beautifully. The weather is warm and sunny. Family groups have been wandering around the campus everywhere. You can feel the excitement in the air. My parents are here and delighted to be sharing this great event. Sheldon is working for the seismic crew this summer, but his boss gave him time off so he could join us. My sister and I graduate tomorrow. Considering the rocky start I made of my first year, it’s amazing to be here. I’m on cloud nine!
Three years ago the two of us boarded a bus and headed for Edmonton. Doris was nineteen and I was eighteen, leaving home for the first time. We were entering a new environment with anticipation and no worries about handling it. After all we were “grown up”, and just going on with our education. What was there to worry about? Continue reading
September 1940, and back-to-school time – but what a difference this year. We’re in Edmonton, in order to go to University. My sister Doris and I arrived a few days ago, and are living at Pembina, the women’s residence. She’s nineteen, and I am eighteen. We feel very grown up, but a bit scared too. Everything is so new, and so different.
First the business, the official registration. We fill out papers, choose courses, and follow directions until our heads ache. Classes start right away. We have to learn where the right buildings and classrooms are. Advice is coming from all sides. On top of everything there are signs everywhere announcing that this is Frosh Week, with special, not-to-be missed events. What in the world is Frosh Week?
No time to find out, we are due back at Pembina for a meeting with the Matron. She runs the place. All the new girls–the Freshies, as we’re called–go to Miss Gregory’s special meeting room. She gives us a serious talk about the dangers of alcohol, how to dress and behave properly, and the house rules which all residents must obey. For example, curfew time is 10:30 PM, for evening engagements of any kind. If we fail to make it on time, we lose our permission for evening dates “until further notice.” Seems rather juvenile to me, but there it is. The older student residents keep sneaking us information about how to get in after hours, without being caught!
What’s a new gal to do? Getting “properly” dressed, and putting on white gloves as well, just to have tea with the Matron, does not qualify as fun! Not knowing what Frosh Week is all about makes it hard to choose what to do. Continue reading