Marianne Montgomery ’99

I’m not a dancer. My uncle says I have no “rhythmic vitality.” I didn’t go to prom, and we didn’t have dancing at our wedding. The only time I danced freely was in Dower Hall. As a first-year dreaming of living in a Collegiate Gothic pile (“At Wellesley, you can live in a castle,” I tell my six-year-old daughter), I was initially dismayed to be assigned to a barn. But I found my people in Dower, and many of them were named Sara(h). (Legendary and true.) We crowded around the living room television Thursdays for NBC Must See TV and into the RA’s room for Dower Disco Nights. We turned off the lights and danced and screamed. “Stayin’ Alive,” “I Will Survive,” “Express Yourself,” “Dancing Queen.” We made tapes. Now, I listen to my Dower Disco Mix on Spotify, but I never dance like I did at Wellesley.