Marshall Memory
by Carol Archer Opperman, BA’71, MA’82

There was never any intention in my mind to attend college; that was for those who could afford it. Fortunately, the mother of one of my best friends called and told me how it was possible for me to continue my education. I secured a school loan, and I was Marshall bound in the fall of 1967. Four years later I was a graduating senior, and the first of four children in my family to graduate from college.

Today, I am the wife of a wonderful man, mother of three beautiful children, and grandmother of eight wild and wooly grandchildren. I am so thankful for all of this, but I must also say how grateful I am to be a Marshall graduate.

In l970 I was doing my student teaching at Saint Albans High School. It was seldom I had a chance to get back on campus, but on the afternoon of November 14, I headed for Huntington to visit friends. Early in the evening Mom called and told me to stay put because the weather reports were saying severe fog would be around for the night. I was glad to take her advice; it was so good to be back in town again, to see familiar faces and see my old haunts. But the pleasure of the day turned to horror as the reports of a plane crash at the airport reached us. It wasn’t long before we learned that the plane carried our Marshall football team. Gathered around the television we sat in disbelief as the news began to filter into the room and gave us a glimpse into the horror that had taken place on that cold, foggy night.

Now I think back to the time in ’67 when I sat with my parents in our Dunbar home and watched the news of the Silver Bridge collapse at Christmas. The Marshall community lost friends and family on that day in the depths of the Ohio. One tragedy followed another as the Viet Nam Conflict raged on and the losses of our young men and women continued on the battlefields. Here at home our student body fought for the right to express ourselves to each other and in the community. The May 1970 Kent State tragedy was in our backyard. How could we suffer yet another loss; this time the indescribable was so close and too personal. It was almost more than we could bear. It was the final hit.

I took a day off from my student teaching, and traveled back to campus. I walked alone searching for someone—anyone with whom I could share my grief. The dark hollowed-eyed buildings stood and stared back at me as if they too were weeping for the lost.

Since graduation in the spring of ’71, I have done many things besides becoming a wife, mother and grandmother. I have earned a master’s degree and taught for two colleges, as well as public and private schools in three states in a span of 25 years. Beginning in January 2007, I will become an adjunct professor for Marshall University. My days at Marshall shall always be very dear to my heart. Marshall went through many transitions the four years I attended there.

On my graduation announcement I had written, “Life has given me many of her good days and a few of her worst.” When I sent my announcement to Dr. Sullivan of the English Department, he agreed that we had seen the good and the bad at Marshall. We all had shared the change, the challenge and the tragic, but it only served to make us stronger. That is exactly what Marshall has become. Marshall is no longer Marshall College; it is Marshall University. It is no longer a fledgling school; we have taken our place in history, the nation and the world. It is no longer a school of tragedies; it a university of over-comers. It is the home of the good, the brave, and the strong. We need not say anything more about our school except, “We truly are Marshall.”