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hard against our east-facing Bethune Residence window. When I happened to look out the window at the storm, I realized that rain was leaking in - a lot of rain was leaking in. My roommate, Heather, and I moved everything we could away from the window and off the floor, and set every pot or bowl we owned underneath the gush of water. By the time we awoke the next morning, the pots and bowls were overflowing with water, the towels were soaked, and the puddle in the carpet had made its way across about a third of our room. But, this is not a story about how old and rundown the residences were, and how they needed new windows. These were brand new windows, replaced just before we moved into residence in 1995.
Suzanne P. Currie [BSc'00]
My first year roommate was unforgettable. When you share a room with a guy who throws a birthday party for Joan Crawford, and he's the birthday girl, from the generously applied ruby-red lipstick to the high heels, you carry that memory to your grave. He did a fine impersonation of her too. Luckily, I was not attracted to Joan Look-alikes, and he was only attracted to hairy-chested Italian men. A honeydew melon has more hair on it than my chest does.
While I took being a student rather too seriously, he barely took it at all. I would often return to our room, having survived early morning swim practice and two classes, to find Joan still sleeping. Study habits reflected hygiene, and at one point you could actually draw a line down the middle of the room dividing his litter-strewn side from mine. I remember one night getting fed up with it and tossing a piece of his trash - a spent Mennen deodorant dispenser - into his garbage can before I went to bed. When he arrived later he noticed this, and indignantly put it back among the litter on his desk. I lay there in the dark, fuming. Eventually I leapt out of my bed, grabbed the offending piece of plastic, and hurled it against the brick wall with raging force, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The next day I apologized meekly as he gave me a withering Joan Crawford stare.
Jonathan Balcombe [BSc'83]
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Going off to university for most kids is their first big rite of passage and it's usually accompanied by parental advice. So what bon voyage speeches are York students hearing?
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"I was a 'wild-child' growing up so my parents already went through a lot before I left for university; but that didn't stop them from giving me advice. Before I left to move into rez, my dad came up to me and said 'Whatever you do, don't get pregnant or become an alcoholic.' So far, so good."
- Lindsay, Arts
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"My parents live in another country and when I was packing my suitcases to move to Toronto, my parents made me stop my packing and gave me a long speech about the virtues of staying single while in university. This was somewhat unnecessary because I am really driving to succeed so I wasn't planning on sharing my time with anyone except my books but I guess they wanted to reinforce this idea in my head. Fine. However, I'm not sure of the confidence they had in their little speech because they established a spy network composed of my family members that live here. They come by at all hours, unannounced, to check up on me. I finally had to tell my parents to call off the dogs because I was becoming a nervous wreck."
-Sharon, Arts
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"My Mom thought that going off to university would be a great growing experience - I would learn how to take care of myself. She 'trained' me for an entire month on how to do my laundry, how to make healthy dishes, stuff like that. Well, I don't know why she thought that I would suddenly become independent when I moved into residence. My roommate cleans our room (because if he leaves it up to me, it will never get done), the various food places on campus take care of my nutritional needs, and I bring my laundry home every couple of weeks and my mom does it. I may never leave university at this rate."
-Craig, Arts
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