The Nittany cub. (Erie, Pa.) 1948-1971, January 17, 1961, Image 4
Tuesday, January 17, 1961 Upon a moonless, starless night, Two lights along a rutted road Came into view and neared a gate; Behind the lights two soldiers rode. One in, one out, the change is made. The gate is locked. The two lights fade. The post, enclosed in a barbed stockade, Is left secure in the snailish gait Of one lone man. Carbine shouldered, clip In place, he scans the length of snow He'll walk and with a sigh starts out. The path, boot-worn, can barely be Discerned, the fog so dominates. The guard walks on, and recreates The scenes that and filled his past. The things he's liked, the things he's learned, Unstore to bring relief at last To. thoughts of home and happiness, To thoughts of weary, icy feet: Aloud he speaks the poems he knows. Aloud he sings his repertoire. Though cautious, lest his idle "shows" By some passing personage be heard. Then when song exhausts and not a word Resounds, the problems that exist Throughout the world, both near and far, - He views and whisperingly solves As on he walks, while time goes by ... till His eyes, through heavy lids, keep watch On gate and road beyond to catch Headlights cutting through the foggy patch Between his post and vital sleep ... They shine ... in, out ... the two lights fade Ask If You My Opinion By JOE BENNETT In view of the present diplomatic crisis in Cuba, the Cub inquired of a number of Behrend students what their opinions were concern ing the situation and got the fol lowing answers: Rick Reynolds—l think it will be another Korea. Jim Slater—Looks like we'll be finding summer jobs down there. Mr. Gallagher—l think breaking ofd relations with them was the right move in order to save our prestige. Mike Mulligan—l feel that condi tions in Laos are much more serious than those in Cuba. Dick Merriman—Castro can't last much longer. He'll either be forced to leave office or be assassinated. Jill Freese—Castro no; Yanquis si. Fred Hetzel—Eventually we'll probably be forced to go to war. Bruce Clark—lt might be a good idea to have Castro assassinated. John Reeder—l believe we should drown Cuba with foreign aid so that they become rich and soft and decadent. Art Winschell—The Gillette com pany ought to start an advertis- Guard By GENE NUTTER Merriman Predicts .. . A certain student will be named "Matchmaker of the Year" ... Elliott Ness will raid a certain night spot in New York ... A new course called Pinochle II will be offered next semester ... The Dorm girls will get cookies from now until June. These, however, will not make -up for the dirty linen and fantastic color schemes in the dorm ... A certain sophomore girl will soon be allowed to smoke at home ... Midget binoculars will be on sale in the bookstore - during exam week . .. The Inaugural Ball will be a farce ... City detectives will enroll in night classes next semester. They will take the new Pinochle course ... Zoology stu dents will have to buy snowshoes for field trips next semester . ing campaign there. Mr. Hover—Considering the re starictions the Cuban govern ment tried to place on our diplo matic corps, we had no choice but. _ to sever relations with it. Gene Meade—lt's apparent that the "Moses of the Cane Fields" is short on razor blades. Gene Nutter---Should provide a guillotine fund for the Cuban peasants. Mr. Thomas—Castro has proven that he can fool ail the Cubans all the time. THE NITTANY CUB Hail, The Heroes Will Return! Much as college students detest to ridicule him when he rides his the inevitable, most of them will, bicycle down the middle of the nevertheless, be willingly or fore- street and yells at people driving ibly members of our "peace-time cars. Keep cool if he purrs like a Army." The Army that will no tomcat at the slightest mention of doubt take them to far-away places alcohol or pours gravy on his des like Bethel, Alaska; Juarez, Mex- sect and mixes peaches with Sea ico ; Stuttgart, Germany; Columbia, gram's VO. Never blow a whistle 'South 'Carolina, and any number of near him as he may jump out the eagerly-sought dung heaps in Ko- window for fear of being late for rea. At any fate, they also will that formation. Humor him if he have the honest-to-God excitement should, in his first week at home, and apprehension of getting out, ask, "May I pick up my pass?", and sending home a Notice of Re- "Where is the sign -out book?", turn: and "Is there a curfew in town ?" This document is issued in fair Above all, don't ask him if he ever warning this sth day of March to did, or even tried, to save money the friends, relatives and acquain- while in the service. This may put Lances of PFC Fred Fredricks. him in a state of shock in which he Very soon, the above-named soldier may blubber something about Sol will once again be in your midst, dier's Deposits, Taxi Fares, Black dehydrated and demoralized, to Market, Craps, Poker, Income Tax, take his place once • again as a Binge, Red Cross, March of Dimes, human being with the feeling of Community Chest Heart Fund, freedom and justice for all, to en- Overseas Campaign Fund, State gage in life, liberty, and the some- meat of Charges, KP Fund; inflated what belated pursuit of happiness. beer prices and the cost of cigars In making your joyous prepara- for promotion. It is very possible tions to welcome him back into that all of these could apply to society, you must make a few al- him. lowances for the very crude en- After he is home for a few vironment that has been his home weeks or until he becomes house for the past 36 months. In other broken, you should be especially words, he might be a little Euro- watchful of him when he is in the pean, suffering from Kraut-itis, company of women, particularly and must be handled with care. So, ones that are beautiful. His inten show no alarm if he prefers to tions are sincere, though dishonor wear leather pants and carries a able. Treat him with kindness and briefcase full of hot dogs, old tolerance and occasionally a quart bread, and beer. Don't be shocked of whiskey, and you will be able to if he wells, "Wo is der Bahnhof, rehabilitate that which is now the Schatzi ?" and drinks Steinhager holloW shell of the once proud man from a musical beer stein. Refuse you knew. I began having these dreams after my first big disappointment in love. The girl ran off with a wealthy Marlboro salesman who played for the Cleveland Browns in his spare time. At first these dreams seemed rational enough. I was trying to find out how many angels could dance on a pinhead, but I always tried to cram too many angels on one pin and they didn't have room to dance. Besides, they kept falling off. Unfortunately this tranquility was not to last. My next dream found me chasing the Abominable Snowman across the Himalayas. Seven dreams later I caught him and he asked me if Eloise Stumpfagle's daughter was still driving a beer truck in Bradford, Pennsylvania. Soon I was transported to the Congo with a tattoo on my chest 'saying, "Recommended by Duncan Hines." I had dinner with Patrice Lumumba, and he was delicious. In my next flight of fancy, I was covered with grime from head to foot engaging in mortal combat with Mr. Clean. I was a photographer for Playboy and they made Elsa Maxwell Playmate of the Month. So I crawled inside the little blue bottle and tried very hard not to fizz. I drove the speed way at Indianapolis; roaring madly at some fantastic speed with fifty odd cars behind me: Then, surging with ungodlly power, we all smashed into the invisible Gardol shield and all that survived was my Timex. Hoping to end my haunted nights, I took the problem to an analyst. He was a quaint old Austrian who had studied under Freud for ten years, attempting to finish a two-year course. I asked him how I could end 'the nightly fantasies and with all his eighty-odd years of, wisdom he said he did not know. He was a sweet old man who charged me thirty-five dollars and kissed me goodbye. So, overwrought with despair, I left his office, walked into the street and met my future wife ascending from a manhole with a pipe wrench in her teeth. 'She was to be the turning point: the last nightmare for the rest of my life. Dreams By JOHN REEDER