If one were to ask each individual in any group what he loved, the answers would be very revealing. Perhaps the answer would be riches, power, fame, or gems. Yet, it might be a painting, a symphony, or a set of dishes. Probably no two people would have the same list, though in some places they might agree. These lists may suggest to others an experience unknown, a joy as yet untasted, an idea never before received. I made my list. It may not be acceptable to others, but it represents my point of view. I love odd things that to others would seem silly. I love to swim in the ocean with the taste of salt on my lips, to lie with my eyes closed on the burning, arid sand near the water's edge and feel the spray. I love the smell of freshly scrubbed woodwork. I love a spot-clean kitchen with sunny flecks dancing around the rims of glasses. I love an early summer morning after it has rained and the dampness is like the earth's coverlet. To lie on the wet grass and watch the clouds moving majestically across a blue sea, to ride horseback through dark woods, to feel the wind and foam on my face as I sit in the prow of a sailboat, to feel the spank of the water while skimming the water in a "put-put"; all these I have loved. The dancing of a ballet, the acting of the players on the stage, the music of a symphony, the melancholy strains of a violin, the deep, rich colors of a painting, I have also loved. There are immeasurable others: the silver coins on my window that are rain, the white comfort that is snow, the first daffodil in the spring. To some there is no beauty in such things. They, too, can give lists of many things which perhaps I could not appreciate. That is very easily explained. Doesn't everyone say, "Love is blind"?
-- Dorothea Rosenthal '36
Dorothea Rosenthal Gordon was my grandmother and purchased Penwood 17 years years after she wrote this in her yearbook.