Diane Speare Triant ’68
- 1960s
As undergraduates, we 1968-ers seesawed between tradition and turmoil.
With red beanies blazing we helped form a human “W” on Severance Green; we joyfully waltzed with our dads on Sophomore Father’s Weekend; we stood ramrod-straight for posture photos; and we laughed at self-satirical skits the night before General Exams.
But unfamiliar currents rippled the waters. A whiff of pot in Freeman’s corridor startled us; as war headlines screamed from Saigon, campus recruiters for “Students for a Democratic Society” (SDS) approached us; responding to student-activists, the college instituted pass-fail course options and scaled-back curfews; and senior year, friends urged us to flock to Harvard Square to celebrate LBJ’s stunning withdrawal from politics.
Like the ancient Colossus of Rhodes whose legs bridged the harbor entrance, we of 1968 stood proudly tall while straddling the campus divide between convention and revolution. Sometimes even today, I’m not sure which foot to lean on.
