I never lived in a dorm at Penn State, but I did for both of my years at Drexel University. When arrived at Penn State in August 1986, I lived in an apartment in Beaver Hill. The year after, I lived in the fraternity house. Every place I lived during my college years is still standing, though my second year dorm is now an administrative building.
Many of my friends at Penn State lived in the dorms, especially my best friend Dr. Dave. When I was at Drexel, I drove up a few times to visit him in his dorm room in Runkle Hall, which was part of "North Halls" at Penn State. He still lived there when I eventually enrolled at PSU myself.
I visited PSU the other day, and during that visit I visited my fraternity house. I walked around the house a bit and a thought.
The brothers living there now were creating their own stories, and had no idea what happened during my time there, nor of the brothers who lived there back then. It was just like I had no idea what happened in the years before me. The house was built in the late 1920s, so had seen hundreds of guys live there-some now long dead.
The same thought applies more to dorms. The occupants of a given dorm room can change semester to semester.
For example, Runkle Hall, like most of North Halls, was built in 1959, and renovated into suites in 2007. Most of East Halls (where most freshmen lived) were built in 1961-5. Watts hall was built in 1923, which I think is the oldest surviving dorm on campus, followed by Irvin and Jordan Halls in 1925 and 1930 respectively.
So, each room in Runkle, between 1959-2007 would've housed 96 students. Assuming double occupancy even during the war years when soldiers were quartered there, the rooms of Watts have seen 190 students each. 190 different stories.
And that's what I thought about- all those stories. Each year, new residents would move into the bare rooms of cinder block construction and make them into homes. Over that year, they create their stories; unaware of the drama, laughter, and secrets that happened in those same rooms over the years.
I think about the dorm parties I attended while I was an undergrad. I heard the stories about how in the year or two before, kegs were allowed in dorm rooms. I heard about the pranks they did, and the times I saw. Who hooked up with whom where.
How many love stories began within those rooms? How many ended?
How many died?
Do the walls hold in these emotions? Store them? Remember them?
None of this is anywhere in the students' minds during the excitement of move-in day. Everything seems so fresh and new. Never mind that your suitcase is in the exact spot where Walt puked up ouch, dinner, and so much beer. That mattress was where Todd and Carolyn had sex dozens of times.
Everything has been scoured clean in the dorms. Except in the memories of those who once lived there, or passed through.
I walked through the halls of my fraternity house the other day. The floor tiles have been replaced, and the dark stained wooden walls are painted over a sickly eggshell color. I remember who lived where those thirty years ago. I remember the drama, the laughs, and the secrets. The pranks. I could tell these stories to the current occupants, if they wished to hear them. But why would they?
After all, what's done is done, and they have their own stories to live.
Myers Hall, Drexel University, Sept 2018
Annex, Drexel University, Sept 2018
Many of my friends at Penn State lived in the dorms, especially my best friend Dr. Dave. When I was at Drexel, I drove up a few times to visit him in his dorm room in Runkle Hall, which was part of "North Halls" at Penn State. He still lived there when I eventually enrolled at PSU myself.
I visited PSU the other day, and during that visit I visited my fraternity house. I walked around the house a bit and a thought.
The brothers living there now were creating their own stories, and had no idea what happened during my time there, nor of the brothers who lived there back then. It was just like I had no idea what happened in the years before me. The house was built in the late 1920s, so had seen hundreds of guys live there-some now long dead.
Hallway in the fraternity house, Sept 2018
I lived in this room, Fall '87. Pic: Sept 2018
The same thought applies more to dorms. The occupants of a given dorm room can change semester to semester.
For example, Runkle Hall, like most of North Halls, was built in 1959, and renovated into suites in 2007. Most of East Halls (where most freshmen lived) were built in 1961-5. Watts hall was built in 1923, which I think is the oldest surviving dorm on campus, followed by Irvin and Jordan Halls in 1925 and 1930 respectively.
So, each room in Runkle, between 1959-2007 would've housed 96 students. Assuming double occupancy even during the war years when soldiers were quartered there, the rooms of Watts have seen 190 students each. 190 different stories.
And that's what I thought about- all those stories. Each year, new residents would move into the bare rooms of cinder block construction and make them into homes. Over that year, they create their stories; unaware of the drama, laughter, and secrets that happened in those same rooms over the years.
I think about the dorm parties I attended while I was an undergrad. I heard the stories about how in the year or two before, kegs were allowed in dorm rooms. I heard about the pranks they did, and the times I saw. Who hooked up with whom where.
How many love stories began within those rooms? How many ended?
How many died?
Do the walls hold in these emotions? Store them? Remember them?
None of this is anywhere in the students' minds during the excitement of move-in day. Everything seems so fresh and new. Never mind that your suitcase is in the exact spot where Walt puked up ouch, dinner, and so much beer. That mattress was where Todd and Carolyn had sex dozens of times.
Everything has been scoured clean in the dorms. Except in the memories of those who once lived there, or passed through.
I walked through the halls of my fraternity house the other day. The floor tiles have been replaced, and the dark stained wooden walls are painted over a sickly eggshell color. I remember who lived where those thirty years ago. I remember the drama, the laughs, and the secrets. The pranks. I could tell these stories to the current occupants, if they wished to hear them. But why would they?
After all, what's done is done, and they have their own stories to live.
I can imagine visiting there would be an interesting and powerful experience.
ReplyDeleteI haven't been back to my college in Massachusetts in 20 years but I would like to when I have the opportunity.
The dorm where I started out living, the unisex bathrooms actually connected one hallway with another. So you be in the shower and hear about of loud kids passing through.
And as I said the bathrooms are unisex--bathrooms shared by males and females. That experience really colored my perception of the so called trans "bathroom wars." I shared a bathroom with males and females so I would shower or use a toilet next to others of either gender so I *really* thought those bathroom controversies really stupid.
As a teacher of mine in high school when I preparing to go off to college, he told the class who couldn't believe unisex bathrooms (30 years ago) he said, "It's not sexy taking a dump next to a girl."
Later, friends of mine and I won a lottery to move into an on-campus apartment. There were six of us, both guys and girls.
I wasn't out as trans back then. But years later I found out a good friend of mine who lived in that apartment had come out as trans and had transitioned.
Then a few years ago I was chaffing with her and had come out as trans, she was surprised remembering me from those days she would never have guessed me as trans. I would never have guessed she was trans from back then either.
I think it's interesting that of a group of six friends (none of whom were out as trans then) that two of us would end up as trans.
Of course, where we went to college, was the most liberal college among several liberal colleges in what was a particularly liberal corner of Massachusetts.
My college was a hippie college with no grades and no tests. And the next town had been labeled as "Lesbianville USA" by the National Enquirer.
Back then there were a lot of gay and lesbian kids who were out (and this was 30 years ago) but not trans.
Trans is much more out there now, in fact I saw a video of commencement a few years ago and the student speaker (voted on by students) was trans.