This story is from my mother’s journal during her sophomore year of college, October 1959. The statute of limitations is long past for misdeeds at Eastern Mennonite College, but names are still changed. I think “Janet” was a commuter friend whose father was an EMC employee; she was waiting for him to finish work so they could go home together.

It happened during Freshman Days. We had talked for two hours and Laura was thirsty. Janet’s dad was working on some accounts. He had called earlier to suggest that Janet go out in the car to wait for him and let us sleep. Well, we had pointed out to Janet our willingness to forget sleep in favor of a gabfest and now it was 11:30. We were getting a bit giddy and needed drinks. 

So we laughed down to first floor and entered the dark lobby. After each had taken a couple bubbling swallows at the fountain, Janet moved to the door and announced her intention of going to the car. We followed her to the door. Laura slipped out – in her red, flowing duster – and I held the door only because I didn’t want to be locked out. Laura and Janet discovered the neat pattern of railing shadows cast over the steps by the campus lights. Laura came then and held the door while I reveled in the illegal pleasure along with Janet. I finally turned back to the smug-looking dorm door. 

I don’t know what imp of the night whispered it to Janet, but she whispered it to us. “Come on up the hill. It’s a perfect night. Come on. Put something in the door and let’s go.”

Laura and I looked at each other. Oh, no, we wouldn’t do it. We’re counselors. 

“Oh come on. Just a quick run up and back.” 

Laura and I got the same gleam in our eyes at the same time. Maybe it was a fanatical gleam, but we both babbled nervously. “I will, if you will.”

“Sure, come on! You need a view of Parkside at night. Your girls aren’t here yet anyhow.”

The deed was did. I tried a bobby pin, but it was too flimsy to keep the door open. Laura pushed the mat inside and the door hung open about a foot, but we were in a fever to go, so we left it and crept into the full glare of campus lights. Shrinking as small as possible, we scurried up the hill into the shadows. The wind whipped us, but the night was all it promised and more. We sat on the hill and chattered giddily. After spotting the two Dippers, and the moon, we began our uneasy descent. 

Right in the middle of the lamp glare two bright lights rounded the boys’ dorm and shone full-glow on us. Laura in her red flowing duster, all three of us in a windy whirl of hair and skirts. Janet’s dad! She deserted us and ran to the car, her crazy laugh floating back. By that time Laura and I had sought “darkness rather than light.” 

When the car disappeared, Laura and I fled to the front door and stopped – petrified! The door was shut!

“Oh, Laura! It’s locked!”

“It isn’t!” And Laura yanked the door handle. It wasn’t!

We crept in and scaled the seven flights of stairs in a state of delirium, collapsing on our beds at the top, to toss on a sea of laughter, misted over by tears of hysteria. 

Later the sea subsided, the mist cleared away, and we approached a degree of sanity once more. 

Was it wicked? What will Ella Mae think? We must fess up – she knows it anyways. What must Janet’s dad think?

After a half hour of contemplating our misdeeds we were sure it was not wicked, whatever else it was. Laura even thought of God up there on the hill!