Fifties: Return to Alfred University for the reunion: Sweet Benign Mother, May I?

Sweet Benign Mother, May I?

Our Alfred Alma Mater refers to the school as our “sweet benign mother”, and we all love that term and sing it in great voice.  My fiftieth reunion did not disappoint me.  My friends were still friends, and conversation was, for the most part, not about medical conditions and deaths.  There was some talk about joint replacement, but that might have been my fault since my doctor suggested I test the water for my knee replacement by asking how many old friends had them and how they fared.  Serious conversation found most happy with replacements and quite encouraging.

One high point was a brief recitation from the handbook of 1965, the rule and laws that governed us at the time. Hilarious.  It got me thinking, though, about my grandmother who lived through the horse and buggy years to the Sputnik and Apollo times.  The Boggs family had one of the first automobiles in Woodstock.  No driving licenses were required at the time, and when, one day,  she decided to drive, she just got in the auto and went to the store. Upon arriving, she simply asked someone to turn the car around for her, she did not know how to do that, and then went on home.No permission was required.  She was always a terrible driver never recognizing those new flashing turn signals.On the other hand, she told me her mother would send her in for another petticoat if she could see even a shadow of a leg, so lots of permission was required.

At Alfred, we lived through the horse and buggy days of social regulations.  Women were protected by a series of policy statements requiring permission from “sweet benign mother” before leaving for an overnight or dressing in an odd manner.  My Spanish teacher required women to wear skits to class.  Her desk was actually set on a raised platform at the head of the classroom.  We laughed, but complied for the most part keeping skirts tucked in our purses and slipping them on over our slacks on the way to class.

The beauty of western New York, the unusual ceramic tiles of the buildings around Alfred, and the clear air reminded me why I still love Alfred. My class is full of interesting people from the spectrum of chosen occupations, doctors, lawyers, teachers, writers, farmers, and one forager, artists and engineers. I was the only librarian that I noticed, but one old friend has two sisters that are librarians and were Alfred grads.

I am still thinking about my theme of asking permission.  Regulation is still a struggle.  In my library career, I met with many stupid rules designed to keep collections in order, and with many people who wished to limit access to information or keep things "the way they always have been".  As I age, I try to fight the call of nostalgia, but I also am under the impression that an historical perspective might be important:  you know, the old saying about if you don't remember history, you are inclined to repeat it.