Performer: The Moody Blues
Songwriter: Mike Pinder, Peter Knight
Original Release: Days of Future Passed
Year: 1967
Definitive Version: None
Jim pitched the idea of
having a house party during the winter of my sophomore year at Wabash; I liked
it. Ed wasn’t against it per se, but he wasn’t really for it either. However,
because he worked as a paramedic, he’d be gone, so it wasn’t an issue.
We had the party in
January—post Comps for Jim (and Ed)—and as I recall, Jim took care of all the
particulars. I invited some friends, but Jim invited practically the entire
football team (he was one of the captains) and everyone who lived in the dorms.
And Jim through his
connections invited women from a few sorority houses at DePauw. You know that
stereotype that women will show up anywhere and hang out with anyone as long as
there’s free drinks involved? It’s learned early. Why else would 20 college-age
women go to a party held by two guys at a different campus?
Anyway, we closed off our
bedrooms and left everything else open, including the screened-in porch, which
we heated for the occasion. The party was a huge success: We probably had 50
people there, and the only thing that got broken was one wine glass, by Jim.
Wabash’s only rule that “A Wabash man must act as a gentleman at all times” was
definitely followed that night.
And I met Amy, one of the 20
or so DePauw coeds. She was an attractive brunette who wore the de rigeur attire of the day: dark blue slacks with a tuxedo
blouse and bowtie. Her hair was curly but not teased to an inch of its life.
That’s a look I like to this day.
We chatted a while and
danced a while, and I got her number at the end of the night. Coming up was a
formal Valentines Day dance for the independents in the student center, and I
asked her to attend. She heartily accepted.
But then a funny thing
happened: By the night of the dance, I had lost interest. Amy looked great, and
I suppose in a different state of mind, I might have tried to convert that, but
I didn’t. I didn’t want to—even though I had her back at the house by
ourselves.
It was a strange night. The
dance was pretty busted—almost no one was there—so we split, but when we drove
back to the house, what normally was a 5-minute drive took literally an hour,
because a fog had risen that was so thick you couldn’t see three feet in front
of you. The last thing I needed was to plow into a buck, which was a potential
problem along that road.
When we got back to the
house, I put on Days of Future Passed, which Amy knew and liked. We talked for
a while, and she waited for me to make my move, but I didn’t. After about 30
minutes, we had to make the torturous drive back because she had a ride back to
DePauw from a friend who went to a frat party there. And that was the end of
that.
Clearly, in retrospect, I
passed up a golden opportunity. But at the time, I didn’t care. Why? Sometime
between the house party and the dance, I had realized that I was really in love
with Beth, and I really didn’t want to cheat on her.
I remember clear as day
sitting at Dr. Herzog’s rolltop desk on a snowy-icy afternoon around that time
looking out the window and thinking how much I missed Beth. So I wrote her a
letter—Beth loved getting letters; it was very old-fashioned
romantic—expressing my love for her.
I didn’t feel like I could
cancel the date with Amy, which I should have, but I more or less blew her off
for Beth. It’s easy to say now—based on how that turned out—that that was a bad
call, but I had no regrets at the time. I decided then I was in for the long
haul, and I had no further romantic dalliances at Wabash.
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