Saddened to learn
I was most saddened to learn of President Glenn Terrell’s death while reading the most recent edition of Washington State Magazine.
During the years I was a graduate student and Head Resident of Stevens Hall, President Terrell often would walk by our dorm as he went from his residence to his office. Whenever he saw me, he would smile, make eye contact, greet me by name, and often inquire about my studies. How he knew my name, I will never know. What I do know, firsthand, is the warm feeling of belonging that I felt on those many occasions when we met along the sidewalk.
Terry L Smith ’74, ’79 EdD
Flood of fond memories
As I read your short article, “Gabriel Fielding” (Winter issue) a flood of fond memories engulfed me.
I was a student of Professor Barnsley (as I called him) for two years (1978-79). Tim Steury’s Panorama story made me think of swishing through fallen leaves, or trudging through fresh snow, or just enjoying a breezy day, as invariably on Thursdays we would make a short pilgrimage from Avery to the house on Monroe to hold class in a more comfortable setting.
Dina would offer up English delectables for our stomachs and Alan would have us read aloud from works in progress, or would even read to us from his own current works in progress (delectables for our heads).
WSU’s author-in-residence was always warm, but a constructive critic, and sometimes he was brutally honest.
The most important thing, however, was that Alan and Dina brought a sense of culture, of worldliness, and of sensibility, to young students who were still finding their way in the world of both writing and of experiencing.
We could love Alan Barnsley, look up to him, take our measure from him, often even feel a stab of dislike for his frankness, but we always respected him. And afterwards—years later—as we grew and saw more of the world, his pearls of wisdom would come back to us.
Alan Barnsley taught me something that cannot be expressed in words—well maybe one: affection. Thank you Tim Steury for reminding me of Gabriel Fielding, the man on the other side of that name.
Randall Stinson ’79
Crestview, FL
Not forgotten
It was a delight to read the article in the Winter 2013/14 about Helen Szablya. I was an assistant professor of military science at WSU from 1963 to 1966. I left Pullman for a tour in Vietnam in August 1966, leaving my family at our home on NW State Street. John and Helen Szablya lived in the nearby Statesman Apartments. Their oldest daughter frequently baby-sat our children.
When I returned to Pullman from Vietnam in August 1967, the Szablyas were among the first to welcome me home. Matter of fact, they invited my wife and me to their home for dinner. They explained that they wanted to do something for me to show how much they appreciated our contribution, albeit small, to try to stem the advance of communism—from which they had suffered and escaped.
Their kindness and appreciation have not been forgotten! When things got tough during my 33-year career, I often thought of the Szablyas and was re-energized.
Thanks again, Helen!
Col. Roy B. Bernd (Ret.)
Apples of my eyes
Love good Washington apples!
When I was growing up in Burien (by SeaTac airport), my high school—Highline HS—had an apple machine that dispensed Washington State delicious apples for a quarter. It was wonderful and very popular. Perhaps the only vending machine at that time. Now that’s the kind of vending machines schools today need!
Unfortunately, I am saddened by the apples from Washington we get here in Minnesota. They taste funny and are green inside a waxy dark red skin. It is so sad those here in Minnesota do not get to taste the amazing delicious apple of my childhood in Washington state. They used to be large, juicy, sweet with edible skins. I miss that juice dripping down my chin as I bit into that wonderful apple.
Patricia Kimble ’65
Pine Island, MN
Serious consequences
Thank you for printing, “Booze, Sex, and Reality Check” [Fall 2013].
Kudos to the university for mentioning and teaching these subjects that have serious consequences for today and in the future.
Jane Smith ’76
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