Fizzy Business - Regis College

52
REGIS TODAY
1948, a spirit that is often considered
unusual today, in the same way that
patriotism and love of country sometimes
seem, to some, to be out of date.
I remember Regis well, as everyone
remembers any loved time of life
which is past, with nostalgic affection
and fond memories. I remember the
first day as a freshman, full of confusion
and uncertainty and amazement
at the sophistication of every member
of the upper classes. I remember the
chugging blue buses which met the
trains at Kendall Green station and
I was more often
than not, glimpsed
running
furiously in the
wrong direction.
brought us up to Regis, up the hill
lined with poplars on the main driveway.
They seemed to wave in happy
greeting on good days and warn us
to mend our ways when we had not
finished assignments. I remember
the mail room crowded with eager
students anticipating a letter from
an APO Box number, so much a part
of our lives then. There were crestfallen
looks on faces that found an
empty box, and looks of relief when
there was news that a brother, beau,
or friend was safe, at least for the
moment. I remember the lane, the
very old lane with the large fallen
log, way down past the athletic field,
where the ground was always covered
in damp leaves and the smell of wood
almost but not quite obliterated the
smell of smoke. I remember the new
lane, down on the other side of the old
gym, in the apple orchard, where for
the first time smoking was permitted
and therefore not quite so much fun.
(We are a little bit smarter today!) I
remember the walks and rides to the
studio for those high-calorie Italian
dinners, and the trips to Wellesley
for slightly more upscale meals. Then
there were the long walks to Weston,
where we enjoyed ice-cream cones,
with the admonishments about ladylike
behavior ringing in our ears. We
always were aware that our presence
was only tolerated. I remember the
field hockey in the hockey field and
the race across campus to science
class still huffing and puffing. With
all that, I never did learn all of the
field Hockey rules. No one wanted
me on her team, as I was more often
than not, glimpsed running furiously
in the wrong direction. I remembered
the library on the third floor, where
we were always and forever, making
too much noise no matter how often
we were shushed by the person at
the desk. Sometimes it was a fellow
student, and, of course, then we
would be even more noisy and more
difficult to quiet. I remember the
carpools disgorging their occupants
as the sleepyheads, unlucky enough
to have a first class, were racing in a
usually vain attempt to be on time. I
remember the Boat, that near
bit of real estate on the prow
of Regis Hall, with S. Caroline,
CSJ, reigning on the third
floor, and S. Monica, CSJ, who
awaited our arrival back where
we gave her reviews of what
we had seen. We had only one
complaint about those treats.
They just did not happen often
enough. Who could forget
the dreaded World History
course with S. Jacqueline,
CSJ, which was the highest
academic hurdle for everyone
in the freshman class. We all
really thought the world was
much too large to be contained in one
course. Then there were the dances
where we pooled every male resource
so that everyone who wished could
have a date to fill in for the boys who
were away. The song that exemplified
this time was one we sang often,
“They’re Either Too Young or Too Old.”
We prayed for those in the service,
we wrote faithfully, we truly missed
them, but we really did love to dance.
Any of the big band songs I hear,
especially Glen Miller’s, takes me
immediately back to those days and
are still my favorite popular music.
¶ I do not have enough space to finish
this, so I will leave you wanting
more, I hope, and will finish in the
next issue. ¶ Please send me your
reminiscences or old stories, your new
news, or even (be kind) your criticism
or corrections. Share some of your
life with us or, I promise you, you
will hear more than you ever need to
know about me. You have the choice
of email, snail mail, or phone calls
to send information along. Become
a roving reporter and bring us up to
date about you. ¶ Au revoir for now,
my good friends. May God bless us all,
each and every one.
1949
✒ Betty Ann Hynes Elliott, 38 Oxford
Road, Wellesley, MA 02481, baelliott2@
verizon.net¶ After an exceptionally
hot and humid summer for many of
us, I hope you’re enjoying a beautiful
fall season as you read this. Sadly
we lost our ever faithful, most loyal,
extremely diligent fund agent of many
years this past spring. Pat Molloy
McDermott passed away in Apr. after
a brief illness. Pat saw to it every
year that each and every classmate
was contacted regarding the annual
fund. As a result, the class of ’49 was
at or near the top in giving year after
year. Pat leaves 5 children, their
spouses, and several grandchildren.
¶ Also in Apr. Barbara Calnan Murphy
died. Barbara had been living at St.
Patrick’s Manor in Framingham,
MA, in recent years. Jean McKenna
O’Keefe passed away in July. Jean
and her husband had retired to Cape
Cod. She leaves 2 daughters, 6 sons,
and 19 grandchildren. We extend our
deepest sympathy to Pat’s, Barbara’s
and Jean’s families and friends.
These classmates will be remembered
at the Memorial Liturgy in Nov. ¶
Four classmates lost their husbands
recently: Shirley Hession Hendrickson’s
husband, Robert, passed away in Apr.,
as did Charlotte Malone Corcoran’s
husband, Paul. Thomas Kilcoyne,
husband of Maryann Boyce Kilcoyne,
died in July, and also in July Ann
McLaughlin Brodbine’s husband, John,
passed away. We offer prayers and
condolences to all of these classmates
and their families. ¶ While trying
to do a small amount of Pat’s expert
fund-raising Cay Foley Hines enjoyed
chatting with many classmates. These
classmates are loyal contributors to
the annual fund even though many
are unable to attend our events. Mary
Nelson Cobb, a home economics major,
lives in Milton, MA, and continues
to teach at Curry College. Her fellow
teachers and students have been a
great support to her following the
loss not only of her husband but also
of her daughter, who was her only
child. Marion Comerford Cowie enjoyed
a 10-day cruise on the Canadien St.
Lawrence River and was looking
forward to another cruise, this time
in Italy in Sept. ¶ Norma Maloney
Crowley was saddened and shocked
to hear of the death of her dear friend
Barbara Calnan Murphy. She was
told the sad news when she called
Barbara at St. Patrick’s Manor for one
of her frequent phone chats. Norma
is busy overseeing the care of her
older sister. Barbara Phillips DiChiro
still resides in her home in Bethesda,
MD, where she raised her family.
She traveled the world with her late
husband, who was a physician for the
U.S. government. Even though she is
housebound with arthritis, Barbara
was very cheerful and interested in
her many classmates. ¶ Anna Marie
Davis Nappa, who has been battling
cancer for a long time, was also full
of cheer and interested in her fellow
Regisites. She was at a rehab, sitting
in a wheelchair most of the day, going
to therapy and hoping to return to
her new townhouse in Uxbridge, MA.