As I stood with my mother in our driveway, packing the car for my college journey, I couldn’t help but ask, “Can I take this?” I held up a large bulletin board, its size almost blocking my father’s view. “It’s pretty big. Do you really need it?” she replied skeptically. But it was August of 1983, and I was determined to make my mark. I managed to slip the board into the back of our car, nestled among my essentials: milk crates filled with cozy sweaters for the chilly New England winters, my down comforter (purple, of course, to match the Holy Cross colors), and a mauve bucket of toiletries. I cradled my treasured boombox and a Ziploc bag stuffed with cassette tapes—Flashdance, Synchronicity, and Thriller were among them. That day was just the beginning of my vibrant college adventure.
Armed with a shiny Disc brand camera, which today would be called “vintage” by eBay standards, I was ready to document my youthful escapades. At 18, I was eager to capture every moment. Initially, my bulletin board showcased snapshots from home—family, high school friends, and my long-distance boyfriend. As time passed, I began snapping photos of visitors entering my dorm room. What started as a lighthearted photo shoot transformed into a cherished collection of memories. Those pictures became my time capsules, preserving significant moments that meant the world to me.
“You can’t come in unless I take your picture,” I would joke with my dorm mates and visitors. They humorously obliged, posing for me, and I remain forever thankful for their willingness. The bulletin board gradually filled up, revealing the faces of friends and new acquaintances, with only a few patches of cork visible between the photos. I dubbed it The Wall, which evolved into a kind of status symbol. Everyone wanted to be part of it. Though it was a humble version of today’s social media, The Wall became a collage of memories, a lasting archive of my college life. I even spent my summer savings developing film to capture the moments I had left.
The Wall served as a visual historian, showcasing our early ’80s fashion and unforgettable escapades. It documented our adventurous road trip from Worcester, Massachusetts, to Manhattan for a Neil Young concert, where we ended up sleeping in a friend’s car. It captured the chaos when we mislaid our friend, Susie, for an entire weekend, only to discover she was making new friends at a nearby college. And who could forget our unforgettable senior week booze cruise, where I met a classmate who would later become my boyfriend? If The Wall could talk, I might have offered it hush money for all the wild tales it could tell.
Three years ago, a fellow classmate reached out, asking for photos for our 25th reunion slide show. I sent her 60 pictures I had rediscovered during a power outage, when I found myself without devices and in need of a nostalgic project. As I sifted through those sticky pages, I grinned at each memory—the toga parties, first dates, campus gatherings, and Halloween celebrations. I even selected images of friends who didn’t last through the years, as well as candid shots of students I didn’t know.
That reunion slide show was a hit, set to the soundtrack of ‘80s rock. One photo particularly resonated—a class couple, all smiles in their freshman year, who had both battled serious illnesses but rallied to attend the event in remission. Another image captured a bittersweet moment from the Blind Date Ball, where my roommate set me up with a freshman named Mark, who has since passed away. I sported a shoulder-padded silk dress, my dark hair styled in a French braid, standing next to my date with our bunkbeds as a backdrop. The slideshow concluded with a sunset view of the campus—a picture I bought during my final week of school, a poignant reminder of my college experience.
As we watched, the atmosphere shifted. Some photos evoked nostalgic sighs, while others sparked laughter as we reminisced about our youthful selves—complete with big hair and stone-washed jeans. The Wall’s legacy delighted everyone in the room, and surprisingly, the slideshow even made its way onto YouTube.
Throughout that reunion, my friends and I fondly recalled The Wall. We shared stories of our college antics, reminiscing about our younger selves. In an era where pictures can be easily edited or erased, I am grateful for my Disc camera, the tangible proof of our shared journey into adulthood and my eagerness to capture every smile.
For further insights on home insemination, check out this post. You can also explore valuable resources on pregnancy at Womens Health and learn more about at-home insemination kits from Make a Mom.
In summary, my college years were a tapestry of experiences, all woven together by The Wall. It served as a visual representation of friendships, adventures, and unforgettable moments that shaped my journey into adulthood, reminding me of the joy of capturing life as it unfolds.