When I recently went to the postoffice to get our mail a piece in the mailbox caught my attention. The bright red printing on both sides of the envelope almost demanded a quick opening. It proclaimed, in big red letters, “The Huskers are coming to Wisconsin” and “No Better Place, No Better Time.” Inside was a promotion for the Badgers vs. Huskers football game played in Madison last week.
The mailing certainly caught my attention. After all, it will be 70 years next June since I was a student at the University of Nebraska School of Journalism. I had very little contact with the school since I picked up my diploma, with my parents and soon to be bride watching. Through the years my (and our) mailing addresses have changed several times.
A lot of other things have also changed. With Thanksgiving in the near future I recalled the year when I and another student decided to hitch-hike home for the holiday. Students hitching a ride home from college was quite common at that time. It was not a pleasant experience, although several nice folks gave us rides during the 175 mile trip. Neither I, nor my buddy, did that again.
My memory-bank spilled out some other things that were different then than now. My first college experience was at Wayne State Teachers College where I lived in a school dormitory. At that time Nebraska was a hotbed for pheasant hunting and many male students did it. Although it was against the rules, many guys had a shotgun in their room, hoping to go hunting on weekends.
Probably half of the dorm rooms had a shotgun hidden in it – against the rules, but a well-known secret. My roommate accompanied me to my small town home to go pheasant hunting one weekend. We had a successful two-day hunt, bagging several birds. The problem was – how do we get the birds to his home for a pheasant feast the following weekend?
Our birds were put in an old gunnysack that we hung out a dormitory window that was located above the front door of the building. My hunting buddy was called the Office of the Dean of Men regarding the sack. The Dean learned we were keeping dead pheasants where they would stay frozen for the next five days.
We had to find a different location to hide the frozen meat. In today’s world, shotguns in dorm rooms and meat hanging over the front door of a dorm would probably be a hot national story for the evening TV news
The mailing certainly caught my attention. After all, it will be 70 years next June since I was a student at the University of Nebraska School of Journalism. I had very little contact with the school since I picked up my diploma, with my parents and soon to be bride watching. Through the years my (and our) mailing addresses have changed several times.
A lot of other things have also changed. With Thanksgiving in the near future I recalled the year when I and another student decided to hitch-hike home for the holiday. Students hitching a ride home from college was quite common at that time. It was not a pleasant experience, although several nice folks gave us rides during the 175 mile trip. Neither I, nor my buddy, did that again.
My memory-bank spilled out some other things that were different then than now. My first college experience was at Wayne State Teachers College where I lived in a school dormitory. At that time Nebraska was a hotbed for pheasant hunting and many male students did it. Although it was against the rules, many guys had a shotgun in their room, hoping to go hunting on weekends.
Probably half of the dorm rooms had a shotgun hidden in it – against the rules, but a well-known secret. My roommate accompanied me to my small town home to go pheasant hunting one weekend. We had a successful two-day hunt, bagging several birds. The problem was – how do we get the birds to his home for a pheasant feast the following weekend?
Our birds were put in an old gunnysack that we hung out a dormitory window that was located above the front door of the building. My hunting buddy was called the Office of the Dean of Men regarding the sack. The Dean learned we were keeping dead pheasants where they would stay frozen for the next five days.
We had to find a different location to hide the frozen meat. In today’s world, shotguns in dorm rooms and meat hanging over the front door of a dorm would probably be a hot national story for the evening TV news
