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LETTERS Life Interrupted I have been Mrs. Wilfred Hellmers Charbonnet since June 7, 1943. We had lived on the waterfront of the Gulf Coast for 35 years [in Ocean Springs, Miss.], when our home was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. This was in spite of the fact that our home sat on a “plateau” 18-1/2 feet above mean sea level, and the fact that our house was built in 1895, and so had survived many previous hurricanes. Another remarkable thing: There is a giant “live oak” tree still sitting in our front yard. It survived the hurricane, even though our house did not. Not only that, but this tree is estimated to be 400 years old, and so must have survived almost countless other hurricanes… Jackie Charbonnet, ’42
Many people on the coast have made great strides in the last 11 months while others continue to struggle with insurance adjusters, FEMA and endless searching for building materials and workers. I was especially proud to read that Kent State shook off the apathy that infects so much of our society and proactively became part of the solution. Please know that volunteers sometimes represent the only forward progress on the slow road to recovery. Thank you for caring and even more for doing something to help. David Carstens, ‘73
On this ... anniversary of the storm, there is still much that needs to be done. As your article stated, most people aren't really aware of the devastation, so we like articles like yours so people can realize that many people are still struggling. Thanks again for all the volunteers! Gary Lipely, ‘75
The Good Old Days (As a little old lady, pushing 90, and a Kent alumna, I feel challenged to write a piece for Kent State Magazine describing Kent as it was in the good old days — 1935-39.) We had lived through the Depression, somehow, and a few of us, hoping to further our education and our eventual income, enrolled at Kent. It had been a two-year teacher education school and was now a four-year liberal arts college. I had just enough money for the tuition, but for room and board, it was a matter of waiting tables in the Lowry Hall dining room, wiping dishes in the kitchen (no machines to do it then) and working at the dormitory front desk. At that time, the New Deal had set up a student work program and the lucky ones were assigned to work in some professor’s office. I was assigned to a new young professor who was setting up the first class in journalism. I also enrolled in his class. His name was William Taylor. All students were required to attend a weekly meeting in the auditorium. Sometimes there was a performance by a student from the music department or the theatre club, but often just the president (James O. Engleman) talking to us. We went from our dorms (there were two and just for women) to the two classroom buildings or down the hill past the Teachers College to the library. There, we might find a newspaper (the Cleveland Plain Dealer or the Akron Beacon Journal) to catch up on the news. Radios in our rooms were forbidden, although some students did have radios and secretly tuned in to the news and sometimes listened to music. All the buildings were at the top of the hill. A driveway circled up to and around in front of them and down again to the main roadway. At one corner there was Captain Brady’s where, if we had a little bit of extra money, we could buy a milkshake or a dish of ice cream. ... At graduation, we walked up this hill, passing professors in their black gowns, lined up on each side of the walk. Our diplomas were handed over to us in the auditorium. I was in the first four-year liberal arts graduating class in 1939. Not so long after that — Pearl Harbor — and, of course, many of my young men classmates went to war — some never to return... Frances Waterbury Richardson, ‘39
Barb Wolfe Kendeigh, ‘69
Comments and letters for Kent State Magazine can be sent to: University Communications and Marketing, Kent State University, P.O. Box 5190, Kent, Ohio 44242-0001 or magazine@kent.edu. | ||||||||||||||||||||
