Home > The Antiochian > Coupled
 Spring/Summer 2011


In January we sent a call for submissions to Antiochians who had fallen in love with other Antiochians. This feature is a collection of those stories.


Chuck first saw me when I was playing in a tennis tournament against my twin sister (Rebecca Ganoe Nussdorfer). He almost didn’t ask me for a date because he wasn’t sure how to pronounce my name. Then his classmates told him everyone called me Norie. Our first date was an all-day trip with another couple to Hocking County. Chuck was one of the few students who had his own car on campus. On our way home, we stopped for a picnic, and he winked at me across the campfire. I liked the music he played on the car stereo.


We met at Antioch in the fall of 1959 when we were both 19 years old. Bob had just transferred from a military school and I was a hillbilly from West Virginia, not exactly the sophisticated beatnik types who inhabited Antioch in those days. Bob’s big come-on line was: “Do you want to come up to my room and hear a great Gene Krupa drum solo?” I liked that he had a car, which meant a ride out to G. Stanley Hall on cold, windy winter days. We found lots of romantic things to do in Yellow Springs. Glen Helen was, of course, a great place to find seclusion – except for the chiggers. One of our favorite date spots was Com’s. The fried chicken and jazz on the jukebox were wonderful. The separation for co-op jobs was hard, but we made it through the next four years and got married in Rockford Chapel the day I graduated in 1963.


Nancy Welton and I met on my return to campus after a co-op job in Antarctica. She had just graduated and I was starting my third year. Nancy had a job and a great apartment in the area. After a year she moved to Cambridge and I muddled through to graduation. My first jobs were a lot like co-op jobs: intense and short. Coming up from Georgia, she invited me to visit. We said we would like to see each other more, but I was off to Alaska for adventure. The next summer, like the scout she is, Nancy traveled across Canada rail, then fly-by-night airlines to Cold Bay, Alaska. We huddled in WWII Quonset huts, surrounded by active volcanoes, with numerous grizzlies under foot. In the fall, it was Cambridge for Nancy and I moved to Sitka, Alaska. She joined me there the next summer. We fished and boated for another year while I was an environmental engineer for a pulp and paper mill. Then we sold my cabin and took months to wend our way back to the abandoned family farm in Ashfield, Massachusetts. Thirty-five years later we are still here. We have grown two generations now. Our larger family has joined us on the farm and we hope our kids can do so soon. We all keep busy with gardens, firewood, biodiesel, wind power, and life itself.


Marj: I considered Art a “big man on campus” but didn’t know him. I spent that summer at the Jackson Lab in Bar Harbor, Maine. In between injecting mice with Ectromelia and hiking through Mount Desert Island, I had time for the occasional cultural excursion with my fellow summer students. One Sunday afternoon we hitchhiked to Southwest Harbor to attend a concert. In the audience I spied B. Chandler, a fellow Antiochian. Seated next to her was Art Dole. I spoke to neither of them.

Art: I was vacationing with relatives in Southwest Harbor that summer. My cousin B., her mother, and I went to a concert in the village one Sunday. At the end of the concert, B. pointed across the hall to a klatch of people and said, “There’s Marjorie Welsh from Antioch. Would you like to meet her?”

“No,” I replied.

Marj: The following summer, Art went to Ohio State to start a Ph.D. in psychology. Al Kilburn, a friend from the Antioch years, was attending OSU and suggested to Art that he join the men’s co-op. Not only was living there quite reasonable but it included eating at the women’s co-op for dinner every night.

In the meantime, I was working on my master’s at OSU and had become the housemother at the women’s co-op. I didn’t see much of Art for quite a while as he was concentrating on his graduate studies and not socializing very much.

Art: Although I didn’t pay much attention to Marj at first, I was impressed that she had great management skills in organizing meals for forty and that she mentored without hectoring her undergraduate charges.

Marj: One night there was a party and, after imbibing a laboratory alcohol mixed drink, we ended up on a sofa together. We became great friends that night! It wasn’t long before we were engaged. We didn’t have enough money for an engagement ring. One night we were walking together on a Columbus street and came to Woolworth’s. Art said, “Pick out the biggest, most expensive ring.”

When I wore that beautiful “diamond,” I got all sorts of compliments. I was also asked how Art was able to afford it. Art did manage to afford a diamond wedding ring, which has been on my finger for sixty-two years.

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  • Peter & Barrie Grenell— then.
  • Peter & Barrie Grenell— now.

Barrie dropped out of Antioch after two years because she panicked that she would have to declare a major, didn’t have a clue, felt totally out of it, confused, not up to the academics, not as smart or prepared as her peers. Still, she managed to stay connected to the College where she had grown up and continued to live as if she were still a student, renting an apartment in Boston with two students on co-op and getting a job where Antiochians were actually on co-op.

She loved the apartment she found in the heart of the North End Italian neighborhood, not noticing it didn’t have a working kitchen or bath. An old boyfriend from Antioch introduced her to some Antiochians in Cambridge near Harvard Square. They told her she could use their shower.

One day, Peter, who had been subletting to those Antiochians while on a summer job at the Berkeley Planning Department, walked in and found Barrie wearing a muumuu and squatting on the floor while talking on the phone. He asked what she was doing there.

“Taking a bath,” she said.

He was an Antioch graduate and his father had once worked at Sarah Lawrence with Oliver Loud, her favorite professor. His father had also produced those Young Peoples Records that she had listened to as a child; his mother had written the songs that she could still sing.

Peter and the old boyfriend took Barrie around town and helped her find a more appropriate apartment on the back side of Beacon Hill. He took her to the urban renewal neighborhood of abandoned houses where they found “furniture” for the apartment – doors to be made into beds, with one-inch plumbing pipes screwed into flanges for legs. He used to pick her and her roommate up when their swing shift at the mental hospital was over and drive them back home, listening to their winding down from the evening’s drama on the ward.

They were married in the backyard of old family friends. That was forty-eight years ago.


Sonya Hruschka and I both entered Antioch in the summer of 1964. During our first year, I tried to date her Birch Hall roommate to no avail. I also tried to invite her to parties at our South Hall dorm, but the Birch Hall girls were always off to very elaborate parties at Maples. Taking the hint, I joined Maples and soon got to spend social time with Sonya. When we agreed to go on a co-op job together at Camp Union in New Hampshire, I knew there might be a future with her. We had a great time and were a steady couple back on campus. She went to Germany with AEA for a year and I fought forest fires in Idaho that summer, but we wrote regularly. When she returned in 1967, she helped out wonderfully when my dad died in the fall. We married in 1968, our last year at Antioch, and went back to Camp Union as a married couple. I gave up my office as the fire chief of Maples since I couldn’t live in the dorm when we returned to campus. We graduated in 1969, entered the Peace Corps, and went to Jamaica.

We have now been married forty-two years and consider ourselves twice blessed for having the Antioch experience and finding each other. Our sense of adventure and critical thinking has continued to grow over the years.


Marc Mason and I met in the winter quarter of 1974 during my first year at Antioch, his second. We were both living in Mills, along with a really good group of people. We all spent a lot of time hanging out and having fun (that was the winter Helen’s VW ended up in the common room).

Marc and I were both science majors and had a class or two together and we gradually became good friends. At the end of the quarter, we had to go to opposite ends of the country for six months of previously arranged co-ops. We stayed in touch and managed a couple of visits back and forth, and that fall we went together to Vancouver Island where Antioch had an environmental studies center. We’ve been together ever since!


Steve Crevoshay introduced Rhodes to Jane in Yellow Springs in 1965. They had both dropped out of Antioch but were hanging around Yellow Springs. They spent a few months as sweethearts. Rhodes wasn’t interested in marriage and children, but Jane was, so the budding partnership turned into a friendship.

They led separate but parallel lives for a time, first as rural hippies and then as urban professionals.

In 1978, both finally finishing their degrees at Antioch San Francisco, they ran into each other on Mission Street in front of the school. They exchanged phone numbers and kept in touch as friends over the next decade, visiting each other with their various partners.

In 1988, on Valentines Day, with no partner around, Rhodes found himself thinking of Jane. They made a date for a weekend away and spent the time doing their taxes. (Rhodes thinks this is how to woo a CPA’s daughter).

Soon they moved in together and, after a few struggles over autonomy vs. intimacy, married in 1991. In 1998, they moved to Seattle, and they’re still in love after all these years.


Larry A. Smith and Renae Scales Smith met and fell in love at Antioch in 1971. We were married on March 30, 1974. We have three sons and one granddaughter. Celebrating forty years of love and thirty-seven years of marriage. Yes, love has kept us together.


It was the summer of 1944, a presidential election year, when I returned to Antioch on leave from my Civilian Public Service camp.

I had a date with a young woman I had known before the war. While waiting for her in the Willet common room, I struck up a conversation with Rachelle, then a fresh-faced 16-year-old freshman. We quickly got into a heated argument. She was supporting the re-election of President [Franklin D.] Roosevelt; I ardently supported Norman Thomas. She was hopelessly wrong, I thought, but surprisingly articulate and well informed.

In 1946, I returned to Antioch for my senior year. As fate would have it we met again, now in the bookstore. We recognized each other, resumed the argument, began dating, and were married in Rockford Chapel hours after receiving our diplomas in June of 1947.


In January of 1966, I was a 22-year-old fifth-year student who had just returned to Antioch after an eighteen-month absence – two co-op jobs and nine months at the University of Bristol.

Barbara was an 18-year-old first-year student. We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance in the Yellow Springs supermarket. Instant attraction.

At the end of the winter quarter, Barb went off to Washington, D.C., for a six-month co-op job. She made two visits back to Yellow Springs. On the first visit, I proposed. On the second, she attended my graduation and met my parents.

In June of 1968, we were married in Rosslyn, Virginia, about a mile from Arlington Cemetery where Robert Kennedy was being buried that same day.

This June, we will celebrate our 43rd wedding anniversary. A week later we will celebrate our grandson’s third birthday.


A volunteer would put records on a player in a tower and turn the loudspeaker toward the front of campus – then facing Corry Street. In the fall of 1947, I asked Lorena Estlow to go to one of these Vic concerts with me. We spread a blanket on the grass and listened to D’Indy’s “Symphony on a French Mountain Air.”

We had several dates after that. On one occasion there was a Div dance. Neither of us was much into dressing up. I told her that I would take her to the Div dance if she wanted to go. She said she was glad to be asked, but didn’t really want to go.

At the end of the Div, we hitchhiked to New York together where we both had co-op jobs. In December we walked the deserted streets of New York after a historic twenty-seven inch snowfall.

Time passed and we went different ways. It wasn’t till 1950 that I was sure that this was the girl I wanted to marry…


Tom and I met the first day of college. But it took four years to figure out that we would make a wonderful couple! We casually arranged to drive together out West for our post-graduation plans. One thing led to another and we moved in together only a few weeks later. That was twenty-eight years, two kids, and two careers later. Thanks to Antioch for bringing us together.


I met Jane Parmenter when I returned to Antioch after WWII. It happened at a Saturday evening dance. I courted her over milkshakes in the dining hall! Following a year’s courtship, we were married and transferred to Ohio State, where Jane received her degree in med-tech and I in metallurgical engineering. After sixty-two years and raising two children (both successful in their careers), the light went out of my life when Jane lost her life to leukemia. I continue to grieve for her and will, until I join her at a later time.


Jacqui Slone and I were friends long before we became involved. I had just come back from a study abroad in Japan and was on campus for a short time before going home to Pittsburgh. Jacqui was on her way to study in Brazil for three months, and then she would co-op for three more. I kept my cool, but really I was sweating for six months while I urgently awaited her return. We followed each other all over the globe. I dropped out of Antioch and went on co-op with her in Alaska.

She convinced me to return to Yellow Springs with her and I could not refuse. After she graduated in 2005, I asked her to join me on my co-op in Japan. In 2008, we had our first child, Era. Since graduation, we have had twin girls, Hazel and Inez. We married each other in the Glen Helen building last spring.

It was a deliberate decision to lay our roots in Yellow Springs so that we could raise our family in this special community. Thank you, Antioch!


We met on the Union stoop one warm July night around two in the morning. Two third-year men, intimidating and older, were hanging out when I wandered up. David Tilove and John Keuster were both interested in the insomniac freshman. John, being the more voluble, flirted in a genial way but soon gave up the effort. Intuitive, handsome, and bold though John was, David kept his eyes on me, and I watched him. In a decisive, graceful gesture of compassion, for which we are still grateful, John acknowledged defeat, reached over, and put our hands together.

Our connection seemed best suited for warm nights; so without a plan, shy to the bone, we found each other often in the late hours – walked, murmured, touched tentative hands, chanced a kiss…

That was the summer of 1961 and we were 17 and 20. Military service, one marriage apiece, two children for David, and many jobs and cities later for me, we found each other in February of 1982. We married in 1983.

We have four endlessly interesting sons (two from David’s first marriage and two from our own), who have also enriched our lives beyond measure with the people they love, one precious grandchild, a very sweet aging Chihuahua, and our fair share of joy, sickness, health, worry, conflict, and grace. Occasionally, we can’t take our eyes off each other.


They met at a dance in 1960…The critical date was the Apple Butter Festival. June and Tom helped make doughnuts and crepes in the kitchen. Then, they sat around the cauldrons of apples cooking outside while others threw in more apples. The cooking went all night and June found herself sitting on Tom’s lap comfortably watching the fire and falling in love. The walk back through the woods was very romantic, and they paused at the last bridge before the climb out of the Glen. She thought he was going to kiss her, but the moment passed. How nice he wasn’t that forward, she thought.

Her roommate asked her about him later that night. She answered, “I’ll probably marry him.”

They’ve been married forty-eight years, raised three children, and enjoy five grandchildren.


We met in 1960 at a hall party arranged by our respective hall advisors, who were dating. My future Valentine and his hall mate were on one side of the room and my friend and I were on the other. Impatient even then, I suggested to my friend that we stroll the distance and introduce ourselves…Nevertheless, we started dating and continued to do so long after our advisors parted. Three years later, we married and spent part of that honeymoon year separated as I finished my fourth and final year at Antioch as a chemistry major; he transferred and graduated from Cal State Los Angeles in a major not available at Antioch. I eventually received an MD from UCLA and he a master’s from USC. Forty-seven years later, we are still together with two grown children and three grandchildren.


Mila McGarraugh and I met during the fall of my fifth year at Antioch. When we realized that we were serious about one another, and that this love affair would last, our dilemma was what to do in June. I would be graduating and heading for a job with the Peace Corps in Washington, D.C., while Mila still had two years to go. We didn’t want to separate, but Mila’s father had vowed to cut her off if she got married before finishing school.

We decided to marry anyway, defying Mila’s father’s wishes but confident that she would complete her education. We married in Rockford Chapel on June 22, 1963 – my graduation day – in a double ceremony of sorts with Fred Schmidt and Ann Warren. We immediately headed off to start our new life together in Washington, D.C., where Mila enrolled at the George Washington University. As it turns out, her father relented and agreed to pay her GW tuition on the condition that she graduate before any babies came along. We barely met that condition; at her GW graduation in June of 1965, Mila was six months pregnant.

The marriage has lasted now for more than 47 years and produced three wonderful children and five grandchildren.



Ohio girl and Michigan boy
Used to dance in the Antioch gym
It was ’46 and peace was a joy
For every her and every him
Nothing formal, like wearing a pin
But they soon became a campus pair
Basic assumptions to lose or to win
Mutual seduction in the air
Summertime brought wedding chimes
Happier than these poor rhymes
And now their long history
Has a magic hint of mystery
And Horace Mann is sternly standing by
Perhaps the pair are still ashamed to die


Bill: Like the late adolescents we are, we guys in the dorm talk about girls. Several names come up and one of them, Zelda, gets a laugh. How could a girl named Zelda be sexy? “Not only that, but smart too,” says one of the guys who works in the testing office.

Mid-September I’ve met Zee, as she was called, and we’ve gone out on a conventional date or two where I explain to her that at Antioch we go “Dutch.” It was an Antioch thing – a symbol of gender equality in a world that was still a decade or more away from the second wave of the women’s movement. Paying for a girl on a date was demeaning her. Zee was a strong and proud young woman and I couldn’t and wouldn’t do that.

Early October, I’m totally smitten, ready to commit for life. I remember calling my mother to tell her that I’ve met someone I’m really serious about this time. My mother asks me how long I’ve known her and says, “You’ll see.” Zee is 18 and excited about the intellectual worlds that Antioch is opening up, and marriage is very far from her thoughts – let alone marriage to me.

But that was more than fifty-six years ago and, today, Zee is still strong and proud. She pays her way and then some. Maybe I should have picked up the whole bill back then when she really needed me to. However un-Antiochian that might have been.

Zee: I worked as a hostess in the Tea Room, a sweet little restaurant frequented by people from Yellow Springs and nearby. After Sunday dinner at the Tea Room, I usually went to the library to study. For a while, I didn’t notice a reddish-haired senior named Bill who was always in the library. He came up to me at one point and we started talking. He was from my hometown, Philadelphia, and he was smart and funny. He knew the words to most of the show tunes of Rogers and Hart and sang them in a charming way.

I had dated a good friend of Bill’s who was away on a co-op job. That may have held us back for a while – until Sadie Hawkins Day, when girls invited boys out. I asked Bill to go for a walk with me in the Glen and that was it. We did everything together – studied, played Monopoly with friends, ate pizza at the Tavern and steak at Com’s, drove to Dayton for a fancy meal at a restaurant called King Cole’s. We went “Dutch.” I had to save up for these dates.

My love for Antioch is still strong even though I didn’t graduate because I married Bill after my sophomore year. I served on the Board of Trustees of Antioch University for nine years until the mid-90s when I joined Katy Jako at the Antioch Independence Fund. When the trustees closed Antioch College, I moved into action with other alumni to revive it.

Bill and I have been together all this time. We have two grown children, Jenny and Josh, and five grandchildren. We are still in love.


Fred saw Nikki that first day of school in 1965 and decided she was the person he would like to marry. Nikki’s reaction was definitely not so positive – Fred arrived at Antioch in the end stage of mononucleosis and with admonitions from his mother to monitor his health carefully. He was taking his temperature a lot and generally being very self-indulgent.

A mutual romantic involvement did not work out until much later in their time at Antioch – instead Fred spent a lot of time chasing after and moping over an independent Nikki, including participating in the Guanajuato quarter in Mexico primarily to follow her. Nikki explored the U.S. via her co-op jobs while Fred structured his jobs to explore photography, mostly in the Yellow Springs area. They got engaged while watching a Chicago Black Hawks game and were married on June 22, 1969. Almost forty-two years later, they have two sons and four fabulous granddaughters.


In the relative safety of a T-group, I employed careful ambiguity to declare an interest in Roy, and he astutely interpreted and responded. The next year we moved to a little house on a side street near the College. Our last year was spent right around the corner from the College in what we called our tree house, an upper story apartment in a tall house on E. Limestone Street. We had Thanksgiving there with a group of people, including Kimberly Smith and her parents. Irene Popkin-Clurman lived downstairs at the back of the house. Roy wrote wonderful grant proposals, which led first to a Sloan Foundation award for us to research the land and people of Mendocino County, California, and then to his receipt of a Watson Travel Fellowship, which became our yearlong honeymoon throughout South America, Europe, and Israel.

The Watson also provided an excuse for marriage, as the stipend nearly doubled to accommodate the spouse. We had to convince the Rabbi to marry us. He initially refused because Roy’s father was Jewish, but his mother is a Hale. The Rabbi used a baseball metaphor, saying he couldn’t marry us and strike out Judaism. Roy assured him that we would visit Israel, and that clinched it.

We were married on the pristine day before graduation in a friend’s backyard. Gabby’s, the soul food ribs joint, provided the banquet. Louise Nivison made an ethereal wedding cake delicately arrayed with wildflowers. (She and her husband also took custody of Chrysalis, our cat.) I read a Neruda poem, “What Happens in a Day,” and Roy gave a lecture about how we met. Jesse Epstein took wonderful pictures, but unfortunately he gave the roll of film to us and, to our great chagrin, we lost it. Dan, Roy’s dad, gave us an album to commemorate our day. The next day, after Jesse Jackson delivered the commencement speech, we received our diplomas.


Our first date was a Div dance, November 23, 1957. David graduated in June of 1960 and we were married on September 4, 1960, in Rochester, New York. David went on to graduate school at MIT, while Rascha took a yearlong leave of absence from Antioch. Rascha spent two semesters at Boston University, and then did a six-month co-op at Filene’s Department Store. In January of 1962, Rascha returned to Antioch for the last two quarters of her senior year (leaving David in Boston), graduating in June 1962. It was a difficult separation, but we felt that it was worth the sacrifice to have Rascha graduate from Antioch.

We share a love of Antioch College and a commitment to its rebirth as an independent liberal arts college. In June of 2010, we attended David’s 50th year reunion. We plan on attending reunion again this year, and we look forward to Rascha’s 50th next year.

We are happy to report that on September 4, 2010, we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. We have three daughters and one son, as well as three beautiful granddaughters.


I had taken a room in a rundown house on South College, half of which was occupied by a bunch of musicians and the other half by Mr. Cecil Logan, a custodian at the College and a general sage. He had bestowed on me the moniker “Tall Boy,” which he and his buddies used fondly while taunting me while I hauled my big double-bass in and out of the house.

When I heard saxophonist Pharoah Sanders, Coltrane’s disciple, was playing in Dayton at Gillie’s Club, I was dying to go. Ellen had a blue 1969 Dodge Dart and agreed to drive to the show.

We got back to Yellow Springs at midnight after a magical evening and set off down Grinnell Road for a walk under the brilliant, starry sky. We seemed to be at peace with each other.

Back at the house, Cecil Logan surveyed us and made a pronouncement. “Tall Boy, looks like you done found yourself a good woman. Don’t let her get away now!”


On May 14, a Friday, Chips Dreilinger I met at the folk dance in Red Square. Afterward we went to Ye Olde Trail Tavern for pizza, and then we sat on the front steps of my dorm (Greywood) and talked all night.

After that, there never was anyone else for either of us. We married at the end of the winter quarter in 1966 and we’re still happily together after all these years.


That first year at Antioch, 1964, I signed up to teach an informal class in beginning Hebrew and scheduled an organizational meeting. Soon after, I went to a talk from one of Ohio’s senators and, at the reception, met a second-year student with whom I spent some time chatting.

Within a day or so I began to get responses about the Hebrew class. One was a telephone call from a student who was interested in the class but couldn’t attend the organizational meeting because he’d be working at that time as a waiter at the Antioch Inn, so we discussed his preferences for scheduling the class. Reading in the library shortly after that, I began talking quietly with a student, Keith Tornheim, who was studying nearby. When we moved outside to continue talking, I discovered that Keith was the person I had met at the Friday evening reception as well as the student waiter who had called about the Hebrew class. It also turned out that one of my hall mates was a former classmate of Keith’s in California and that one of our hall advisors knew Keith and both were planning to introduce him to me.

We spent a lot of time together that year, including Friday night folk dancing on Red Square, and my first, his second, co-op quarter that fall in Boston. Also that fall was my brother’s bar mitzvah, and Keith came as my escort and met my family. At the celebration, he danced with my grandmother, and she said, “This is the one!” But it was seven years before we got married.

In June, I met his family in New York where we saw Keith off as he took ship for Israel where he would spend his year abroad. The two of us exchanged a lot of letters, even while seeing other people, and then we met in Paris for a week as he headed home and I started my AEA year in France. That year there were more letters – and hopes that our relationship could withstand the time apart…

We were married in 1971, seven years after we first met. But three of those years we were largely apart, connected only by letters and emotion. In May, we celebrated our 40th anniversary. We have two daughters, Kendra and Kyla, and are expecting our first grandchild in August. During those forty years I have become a fiber artist and a copyeditor; Keith is a biochemistry professor and a poet excited about his recent poetry publications.


We met nearly forty-eight years ago when we both had spring and summer co-op jobs with The Washington Post. Coincidently, Lou and his Antiochian roommates had rented part of the same brownstone that Pat and her roommates were sharing. Lou, having arrived days earlier, gave Pat a tour of D.C. before our jobs began, and even baked her a birthday cake. We found that we shared more than our excitement about history-in-the-making and journalism at the Post during the Kennedy administration. We both loved piano and violin concertos, symphonies, Broadway show tunes, folk music, and outdoor band concerts on the Capitol grounds and at Watergate. We were both canoeists and enjoyed evening paddles on the Potomac past the lighted Lincoln and Jefferson monuments, as well as daytime trips to rustic picnic areas. We had become sweethearts and were thrilled to attend the March on Washington with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his “I Have a Dream” speech. Lou reported on the events of that day from atop the Washington Monument, alerting the newspaper to a neo-Nazi counter-demonstration below.

After fall quarter back on campus, with both of us on the CG Publication Board and Lou active in campus politics, we took winter jobs in New Haven, Connecticut, and Marlboro, New Jersey, respectively, rendezvousing in either state or with friends in New York City. Pat changed her plan to spend her fourth year in Austria, and we eloped “secretly” in New York, though with several other Antiochians in attendance. Our elopement involved a no-show minister, frantic arrangements for another to perform the ceremony, an impossible search for a cab on a rainy Saturday evening, a fall down church steps gashing Pat’s leg, and the celebrant unreasonably asking us before the ceremony, “Why do you want to get married?” We had to promise him to return for premarital counseling after the fact (and we did). At the time of our vows, however, we both sensed that something was happening beyond mere words and deeply felt the strength of our commitment.

Back on campus in the spring quarter, it soon became apparent that our “secret” was becoming common knowledge, and we reluctantly informed Dean Dawson and resigned our posts as hall advisors. He insisted that we tell our parents. Cohabitation at the time raised no eyebrows, but secret marriage was a no-go. The traumatic fall-out from those announcements (especially difficult for Pat’s parents) behind us, we moved in together, and Pat finished her B.A. in four years, while Lou landed an excellent scholarship at Vanderbilt Law School. Dr. King spoke movingly at our 1965 graduation ceremony.

On March 7, 2011, we celebrated forty-seven years of marriage. Life is sweet!


Bill Ginsberg and Diane Chevony met at Antioch in 1957. Diane and I were representatives from our respective halls at a community meeting about the honor system. One of our first dates was going to see The Quiet Man at the Little Art Theatre, which was managed by my roommate Clark Crites. Axel Bahnsen was a local Yellow Springs photographer who took informal photos of students. As a Christmas present for our parents, we asked him to photograph us around the campus. We were married in 1959 and had our 50th anniversary party in 2009. It’s been good so far.


In December of 1961, Patty came over to introduce herself at the table in the cafeteria where I sat with our freshman hall’s upperclass advisor. Patty and I were two of six students assigned to the Crotched Mountain Rehabilitation Center, three boys and three girls on top of a mountain in southern New Hampshire for the winter. Patty and I were mutually clueless about relating to the opposite sex. Nevertheless, we tried – hiking up through snow drifts and tobogganing down, skating frozen lakes at night after work, sitting by the fire in our housing den. Back on campus, I saved my orange to share after the library closed at 10:00 p.m.

Then came the “Div” changes and study abroad. With Patty in Japan her third year and my travel to Mexico and Colombia the fourth year, we went two and a half years without seeing each other.

Of course there were other relationships and a world of growing up to do in some challenging environments. Patty and I got back together the fall of our senior year. There were good times and rough times. She graduated; I took an “I” on my history thesis. She started work in Boston and I followed. We were sometimes a couple, sometimes not.

Four years later, I encouraged Patty to drive to California where I worked for Cesar Chavez and the United Farm Workers. Our first child was conceived in Delano, born in Mexico, and reared in West Virginia. Two others, a girl and then another boy, were born in West Virginia. All grown up, they still entertain and brighten our hearts. Now retired by the Sopchoppy River in north Florida, we celebrated our fortieth anniversary last November.


Earl de Berge and Suzanne Sonderegger married in 1965. They’ve worked together all of their adult lives and retired to Guatemala to undertake community development in rural communities of the Pacific Coast.


Barbara and Warren met her first day at Antioch in the fall of 1943. He had a job working campus maintenance and dropped into her dorm to help her move a trunk into an attic. They wouldn’t have their first date until 1945, when Warren returned to Yellow Springs to manage a co-op food store on Xenia Avenue. Warren would ask Barbara to join him for an early morning walk in the Glen. After their walk, they went for breakfast at the cafeteria on campus. Warren wanted to treat Barbara to the meal, but came up twenty-five cents short. Barbara was quick to give him a quarter to cover the tab.

The next day, Barbara received a card from Warren with a quarter taped inside.

For their second date, Warren took Barbara to Xenia to ride a freight train. They hitchhiked a ride back to Yellow Springs late that night.

Barbara’s roommates were aghast when she came in with black coal dust all over her face and clothes.


We met formally in 1952 when we were appointed co-chairs of the Antioch Social Committee by Dave McIntire. First date was a tennis game followed by a social hour at Ye Olde Trail Tavern...then a movie night. Life together progressed from there: co-op jobs in different states; time on campus working in the PE Dept (with Bob Pieh and Bobbie Rotvig); “June figures” wedding on By’s graduation evening, the year of the locust, 1953.

Anniversary number fifty-eight is coming up this June, and the love story continues!


We met at Antioch, wed in Rockford Chapel, and just celebrated our 60th wedding anniversary. After dating for fourteen months, we married at Christmastime, 1950.

The Personnel Department allowed us to find our own co-op jobs in Florida. Jack found a job as a stock-boy at Woolworth’s. He was such a good stock-boy that they offered to put him in their management training program – “a road not taken.” After a brief stint as a ladies’ room attendant, I was a switchboard operator at a resort hotel. We saved enough money to fly to pre-Castro Cuba for a three-day delayed honeymoon…

We are so pleased that Antioch is re-born and that it will pass on its values, ideals, and adventures to future generations.