Golly, do I love the detail on these two.
Another day, another dorm, another opportunity to ask, “Why?” This here is a shot of the ladies of the dorm labelled simply as “2-A” in the 1973 Indiana University annual. I’m not sure what catches the eye first: the look of ennui and apathy from Heavy-Lidded Ladyfingers in the front row, or her barefoot buddy holding a bottle of Vermont Maple Syrup on her knee. Or is it not maple syrup? Yes, I skipped vested turtleneck woman.
Then we have the skipper, whose eyes are shut, holding some sort of stuffed animal, a girl with a violin, a girl with a tennis racket, a girl with a GOLDFISH BOWL and a shirt that reads “Jesus” where the Pepsi logo should be. We make our way back with the wallflower, the trio of alcoholics, your nobody (she called today), the one in the unfortunate circus pants, the two Jan Bradies (prone to suffering from the Jan Brady Effect), and the girl in the classic mannequin head with a shag hairdo on a platter pose. It never gets old. Speaking of the two Jans, chances were high that one of these girls was actually named Janet or Janice, which ranked high during their birth year.
But the top five names were:
Still, who wouldn’t want to be a Marcia (other than Gloria Steinem, who turns 80 today)?


I realize one day I will have to defend the 1980s to my son. He will ask the big questions, and I will do my best to make sense of that decade. Everything in excess, big and sprayed and sparkly. But NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING can defend the 1970s. What were you thinking? The entire country did not collectively drop acid in 1973, but you could have fooled me. Witness this scene from Indiana University.
I realize the times, they were a-changing. The times are always a-changing. I understand that having your friends and family drop dead right and left in a war we didn’t win was no picnic. In fact, I read just today about a six-foot college man who weighed 145 lbs at the time he was drafted and forced himself to drop down to 123 (officially underweight) to fail his physical and consequently avoid service in Vietnam. Now that’s drastic. The fact that 145 was not underweight for a six-footer is equally absurd.
When the clock chimed New Year’s Day in 1973, our boys were still overseas. The stats are staggering: over 8 million GIs were on active duty during the Vietnam War from August 1964 to March 1973. EIGHT MILLION.
Other things that happened in 1973:
Anyway, this was what 1973 looked like in Bloomington, Indiana and perhaps most of the country. It’s enough to make a girl staple her knees together and live the celibate life.
I believe it was Grace Slick who said, “And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you’re bound to fall, well, tell ’em a hookah, a smoking caterpillar has given you the call.” What on earth?
You think that’s odd? These college kids listened to a sermon from a blind Viking named Moondog. I did not make that up.
These were college-educated lucid students who KNEW it was portrait day and yet CHOSE to show up looking like this.
Yummy! A Hollywood Squares of hot bachelors! You KNOW I choose Bachelor #2. I’ve never dated a scarecrow hybrid.
Inflation caused gas prices to skyrocket from 36 cents in 1972 to 40 cents in 1973. I know that’s like COINS, but it was a big deal at the time. They had to resort to alternatives.

Again I stand by my celibacy comment.
These folks may have missed a ticket all aboard the Love Train, but fortunately they found themselves (wasted) in the back of this Chevy truck. I guess The Levee wasn’t dry that day. If only that truck were a DeLorean, they could time-travel to the 1980s, put a clean Izod on, get a shave, a haircut and a hot shower! Far out, man.

Yay, I scored a new yearbook today! You Indiana people (who know who you are) should feel excited! You might want to defend your public university here and explain why these ladies would have posed for a portrait in their towels. Why would they agree to that? Plus, towels then were so small. Think about those awful scratchy towels in your grandparents’ linen closet. Yuck. We don’t even use towels in our house, only “bath sheets” as tall as we are, plush and soft against our skin. Come to think of it, my dorm never took a group shot at all. Not in clothes or out of them. So much about the 1970s that doesn’t make sense…
You think that’s odd? Check this out.
And all this time I thought Zongola Pledge was an Namibian wood cleaner and furniture protectant…
I can’t tell if Dan has a lizard tongue or just drank grape Nehi or if the owner of this yearbook Sharpie-penned his tongue, or if he has an oral condition, but I know he’s not right. And it’s not because he could have had a V-8.
This is why I never joined a sorority; I don’t like humiliating myself for the amusement of others.
These girls couldn’t take the pressure; they resorted to spending time with a stuffed poodle.
Cheer up, gals. Even if you don’t make it into the sorority, there are always other options.