Written by Maria Peters ~ Guest Writer
Photo of Maria Peters. Photo provided by Peters.
When we arrived at Lynchburg College in September of 1969, we were still in awe of Neil Armstrong’s dance on the Moon on July 20.
We could still feel the tremors from a farm field in Woodstock that turned the world over to a generation of young people who wanted things natural and earthy, “Make Love and Not War,” and wanted to “Give Peace a Chance.”
Some of us thought it was okay to have “love-ins,” “be-ins,” and sit-ins” and moratoriums that stopped governmental and educational institutions because “what we had was a failure to communicate.”
“Women’s Lib” became a new phrase and “I Am Woman” was played in the dorm rooms at Westover Hall.
And women – yes, even here at Lynchburg College – burned their bras, called themselves “Ms” and were certain that if they acquired another last name it would be preceded by a hyphen.
On January 22, 1973 (our graduation year) the Supreme Court ruled in favor of a decision known as Roe v. Wade whose impact still divides the country. Homosexuals not only came out of the closet but took to the streets as “gay liberation” evolved.
We went to Ft. Lauderdale on spring break but we were not old enough to drink. We were old enough to be drafted but not old enough to vote until March 10, 1971 (our sophomore year) when the voting age was changed to 18.
We did not know it yet but the meaning of “Staying Alive” four years later would not be staying out of Vietnam by keeping off of academic probation, but by John Travolta dancing in a white polyester suit in a place called a disco.
On campus we fought for open dorms on Sundays, and saw two of our classmates expelled after they were “caught” making love in a dorm room. We also won the right to drink beer on campus.
Our dorm rooms had typewriters, big stereos, candles, macrame wall hanging, incense and sheets that doubled as curtains.
Women hung posters of Mark Spitz and his medals, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid or a poster that said: “You have to kiss a lot of toads before you find your prince.”
Men had posters of Raquel Welch in a loin cloth or Farrah Fawcett in her red bathing suit.
Our college wardrobe was only a step up from Salvation Army thrift shop digs. Our cars on campus were Volkswagens, MGs, Pintos, Mustangs and Datsuns.
We wore wily, smiling, yellow “Happy Face” buttons, had pet rocks, gave the peace sign to strangers and mulled over what happiness is.
Before we accepted a date, we wanted to know, “What’s your sign?”
We saw Easy Rider and Love Story at the Pittman Plaza and went to the Lynchburg Drive-In by carloads to watch Deep Throat and Planet of the Apes.
We found out that Paul wasn’t really dead but the Beatles had only broken up.
We, the Class of ’73, came not only before live streaming, the Internet and the iPhone.
We were before People Magazine, CNN, Fox and before Westover was demolished. We were there before the Dillard Fine Arts Center, before the Schewel Hall Campus Center and before the Alumni House.
The impact from our generation is still felt.
We turned “war” into a dirty word not a patriotic one by both serving in it and helping to stop it.
We celebrated and gave the world the first Earth Day on April 22, 1970 (our freshman year).
Global Warming was not even in our vocabulary yet. It was in this Age of Aquarius that we chose to enter the institution now known as the University of Lynchburg and it is this place, these times and these friends that we celebrate.
