Riding in cars with boys

A month ago I left the blogging scene sitting on my little foot locker in the hall on the top floor of Cotten Hall, the freshman girls dorm- September 1947. My parents had not wanted to hang around to see who my roommate might be. Daddy's parting statement was, "If I hear about you riding in a car with boys, you will come home!"

I knew he meant what he said, and I was not going to have my dreams shattered by disobeying him. After sitting there a while, seeing no other students about, I was surprised to see a beautiful girl approaching, asking my name. The dean must have told her I was there, and she announced that she was my "Big Sister". The YWCA had a program to help incoming freshmen. I moved over and she sat on my locker and answered a few questions I had. Then she suggested we walk over to the student center where she could show me my mailbox, where to get my meals and other aspects of student life. We hung around a bit while she talked to several students checking their mail.

Suddenly the skies darkened and a downpour commenced. Fifteen minutes later it showed no signs of letting up. Two guys had driven up to the building in a cute Model A Ford coupe. They dashed into the post office and recognized my friend. Seeing that we were stranded, they suggested we get into the car and be driven across campus to our dorm. It was a squeeze, but better than getting soaking wet. I prayed that Daddy had not forgotten something and was returning with another bit of sage advice. It was a chance I had to take, because I would have looked like the biggest idiot in the world to have done anything else. No, I had no guilt feelings. It really hurt to not be trusted. My behavior was not deserving of that distrust. I knew where I was going, and nothing short of disaster was going to stop me.

I went back to my room, lay down on my bed and cried as I remembered Mama's face as she looked when they left me. I was determined to never disappoint her. I fell asleep, and when I woke the storm was over and my roommate, the Belle of Hobsville, entered with her parents laden down with designer clothes. The next few days were traumatic for many reasons.