Preface Adaline Pates Potter, known to all as Pates (pate eze) came to Mount Holyoke College from western Pennsylvania with the firm, if romantic, intention of majoring in French and joining the US Consular Service on graduation.
She blamed her inability to discipline her love of telling tales on her Kentucky father and on her mother and four siblings, all of whom were passionate readers and indulgent listeners. So I shall start with a brief outline of the Mount Holyoke College community of which we were only a part.
A returning alumna trying to find the Mount Holyoke she knew in the late a€?twenties, would see much to reassure her if she drove along College Street.
Yet, back of the faA§ade, the college has changed not only structurally but essentially, and one of those most essential changes is the student body. Most of us were Protestant: Congregationalist, Presbyterian, or Methodist, although there was a sprinkling of Episcopalians and Quakers.
If all that lack of variety -- social, religious, and class -- made us parochial in outlook, it was also the basis for what I find the most distinguishing and influential characteristic of the college I knew: we were classless.
It all happened between September 1928 and June 1929; that was a very far-off time -- sixty-seven or sixty-eight years ago, to be specific. If Sycamores has ghosts today, I think they are not of the students I knew there, but Margaret, Nellie, and Dunk, assuming still their roles as guardians of the house. Later came the daffodils, narcissus, and hyacinths in clumps at the bases of the big trees, filling the borders, escaping somehow into the wilderness beyond the grape arbor. Naturally, being girls still, we did not confine our reaction to the garden to aesthetic raptures.
Having chosen Sycamores for its eighteenth-century charm, we tried to furnish our rooms in the spirit of the house, at least in so far as our not very knowledgeable taste, our pocketbooks, and our comfort allowed. We had the southwest room at the top of the stairs on the second floor, the one with its own dogleg staircase leading to a locked door on the third floor. We tried to make the double desk, again college-issue, as inconspicuous as possibly by setting it to the left of the door; at least, it didna€™t strike the eye as one entered. In the fall of 1971 or a€?72, the Dean of Students office, faced with a shortage of rooms for an unexpectedly large freshman classand having on its hands an empty Sycamores -- if a really old house so full of memories can ever be called a€?emptya€? -- decided to move foreign students from Dickinson, where most of those on the graduate level had been housed for at least twenty years, to Sycamores; that is, from the extreme south end of campus to the even more extreme north. As foreign student adviserI was worried about the change, but since I had been presented with a fait accompli, I had no opportunity to raise the questions that troubled me. I must confess that it worked out fairly well, though the difficulties Ia€™d predicted did arise. Despite their initial disappointment, they began to accept the situation, and gave in gracefully, or at least, not too plaintively, as they fell into the rhythms of their adopted life.
Second semester had begun, everyone had returned, somewhat gratefully, to the safety of campus after the confusing scramble of Christmas vacation, and everyone had settled in nicely, I thought.
So she went off with the key and it was so effective that Miss Lyon returned to wherever she had walked in my day, and never turned up at Sycamores again.
Our relationship with our Head of Hall was fairly close, but our meetings usually took place at meals, in the halls, or in our own rooms, though Evelyn Ladd, as House President, probably saw more of her than I was aware of. We knew, of the room itself, that one whole wall was white-painted paneling with a fireplace, and that it was fitted up like a sitting room, with chairs and a cot, of the sort we students had, with a serviceable dark green couch-cover. This juxtaposition of bathroom and Miss Dunklee was at the heart of one of our more dramatic experiences that winter. My memory may be wrong: it couldna€™t have been more than a healthy trickle, though a reprehensible one, after all. Still there were, there had to be, lapses; further disappointments for Miss Dunklee, though none so serious as the bath episode. Whatever the reason for our unease, an evening came when we feared that the sheer numbers of our small infractions had accomplished what one serious carelessness had failed to do: discouraged Dunk irrevocably. She smiled benignly, went into her room, and shut the door, leaving us to trail upstairs feeling, if truth must be told, a little flat. The name a€?Sycamoresa€? brings up memories of one of the happiest years of my College life. I wish I could recall when we first had Sycamoresa€™ Delight, and I wish I could say that it was something Escoffier would have risked his life for. Since ordinary dates were usually confined to weekends, a week day was chosen for this occasion, in order to highlight the glory. Meanwhile, the two young lady dates, having got themselves dressed for an evening out, were lurking on the second floor at the top of the stairs. About the other, I can be more sure and detailed, though the 1931 Llamarada, placing that wintera€™s Llamie Dance in late October, shakes my certainty about the background. There was much good-natured chaffing as each date boasted of his prowess as a trencherman and vowed to add his name to the list. Feminine modesty required observance of two conflicting dicta: one did not interfere with the innocent pleasures of onea€™s date, and one did not allow notoriety, especially if there was any danger that it might be accompanied by public ridicule.


Friday nights, Saturdays, and Sundays differed somewhat from class days, and greatly and crucially from the present weekends. Within that routine, there were, naturally, variations, sometimes worthy to my nostalgic mind of treatment in some detail, sometimes very minor but insisting on a brief notice.
Some of our elders, and some of the more conventional of us, must have thought there were other, more dangerous flames that year, for 1929 was an election year and, though the Republican Herbert Hoover became president that fall, despite my own staunch adherence to the Democratic party, radical criticism, even some talk of listening to the demands of a€?those unionsa€?, was in the air. For the most part, though, our interests and activities were confined to college and, more specifically, the dorm. Such long walks were common for us in spite of the skirts we still wore everywhere, but they tended to be informal.
Some of our walking was less healthy that sophomore year than Outing Club hiking; the fall of 1928 saw the Administrationa€™s capitulation to the Campus cigarette lobby.
In those days, one of the entertainment glories of the Connecticut Valley was the Court Square Theater in Springfield. One incident that really had nothing to do with Sycamores but certainly lent flavor to our lives there, took place during the winter. A function of Jeanette Marksa€™s Play Shop was to lend its expertise to the foreign language departments when they put on their annual plays. More connected to Sycamores was one more of these passing events, small in itself but important to the participants; in this case, to me.
Sophomore year, as Ia€™ve said, was the year a class began to define itself as a part of the college community. Each class inherited its color -- red or blue, green or yellow -- and its heraldic emblem -- lion or Pegasus, griffin or Sphinx -- but the song had to be original.
End of an extraordinarily satisfying year for seventeen sophomores and for one -- yes, I really do believe it -- often distraught head-resident. The only explanation I can advance for such an uncharacteristic omission is that this was a a€?middlea€? college year, merely the end of a dormitory, not the end of college. Nevertheless -- here the story-teller gives a shout of triumph -- I do remember most fondly and with a little hindsight embarrassment one event that might be described as a climax of sorts: Dunka€™s final attempt to give pleasure to a€?her housea€?.
I cana€™t say whether I had an exam that morning, but I do recall the late May flowers and fragrance and our great pleasure when Dunk told us as we assembled for lunch that we were to have a picnic in the garden. The cup was not quite full, however: no food had appeared and Evelyn Ladd, the designated hostess, was missing.
Miss Dunklee, mindful of the passing time and Miss Greena€™s inexorable schedule, reluctantly took care of the first problem, giving away the second part of her secret: the food was to be hunted for. The food was laid out on the tables, our plates were piled very high; Miss Dunklee and Mr. Someone else was sent, like Sister Anne in the Bluebeard story, to see whether a laggard Evelyn was even so belatedly wandering down the road from the college.
At about five oa€™clock that afternoon Evelyn turned up, exhausted but jubilant that the questions on the exam she had just taken had called forth her best. I find it hard to accept that the sophomores I have been writing about and whom I can see so clearly are now in their mid-eighties, elderly women by anyonea€™s standards.
PrefaceA  Adaline Pates Potter, known to all as Pates (pate eze) came to Mount Holyoke College from western Pennsylvania with the firm, if romantic, intention of majoring in French and joining the US Consular Service on graduation.
A A A  She blamed her inability to discipline her love of telling tales on her Kentucky father and on her mother and four siblings, all of whom were passionate readers and indulgent listeners. We were an astonishingly homogenous group.A  Almost all of us were middle-class and Protestant and came from east of the Rockies, and most of those, from the Atlantic coastal states north of the Mason-Dixon line. Yet, back of the faA§ade, the college has changed not only structurally but essentially, and one of those most essential changes is the student body.A  As Ia€™ve said, the student body was almost ridiculously homogeneous. Often traveling the world, not only must Doc, Drew and Zak Saturday deal with the problems caused by various cryptids, but they must also deal with the threat of V.V.
She hastily switched to an English major when she learned that Consuls are expected to have at least a rudimentary knowledge of economics, however, she did take as many courses in government and political science as the college then offered. Dedicated smokers now snatched a fugitive drag in dormitory rooms, with all the consequent flurry of suddenly flung-open windows and frantic waving of towels if someone in authority approached.
Lovell freely, to take us to the Court Square, and to Springfield at the beginning of vacations.
Woolley Hall, the Rockies, Skinner, the Mary Lyon gates, Mary Lyon itself, the libe, and Dwight have altered their front elevations so little, or so subtly, that she might even overlook the new link between the libe and what she knew as the a€?art buildinga€?. After graduation at the height of the a€?Great Depressiona€?, she spent four years in Northampton, Massachusetts, as a governess, finishing that period with an M.A.
This wartime work led her to return to the Mount Holyoke English department, as a teacher of English as a foreign language and of composition.
Under the guise of his popular series WeirdWorld, Argost wishes to use the power of Kur to lead a large cryptid army to Take Over the World.


In 1960 the position of foreign student advisor was added.A  She retired as Associate Professor of English and died in 2006. Think Jonny Quest crossed with The Herculoids.An under-appreciated animated series, The Secret Saturdays quickly became the Network Red Headed Stepchild in a matter of months.
At Northfield she was given permission to marry Gordon Potter; her employment was terminated two years later, on the grounds that, as a married woman, she would be unlikely to stay in the school into an old age. Yet here it was, our home for some nine months, and a home we had chosen for ourselves when low room-choosing numbers allowed the choice.
At Northfield she was given permission to marryA  Gordon Potter; her employment was terminated two years later, on the grounds that, as a married woman, she would be unlikely to stay in the school into an old age. It wrapped up its second and final season on Cartoon Network, then showed up on Boomerang at the end of 2011, pretty much putting the lid on whether the show was going to be continued. Absurdly Spacious Sewer: Present in "Kur Part 2", when the Nagas attack New York through the sewers. She is frustrated when a plan relies upon her being shot down, as she has a reputation to uphold.
Adult Fear: Your life-long family friends turn on you when they find out your child has been born different from others, and now are actively trying to hurt him out of misunderstanding and fear. Affectionate Gesture to the Head: Zak is the frequent victim of hair-tousling by Doyle and others. Agony of the Feet: Zak, being a precocious kid star, gets to whack the villain in the shin with his weapon, and the villain hops around muttering.
He's also quite big, but that part isn't unusual for an adult Komodo monitor lizard; 8 feet and 200 pounds are considered "average".
All There in the Manual: Jay Stephens hangs around the Cartoon Network forms in Toonzone answering fans' questions as well as giving insights into the show. Could also apply with Zak Monday, who is the Anti-Kur and thus should be good but uses his powers for evil.
Since Zak Monday is Zak Saturday's Mirror Universe counterpart, wouldn't that make him more of an Anti Anti Anti Christ? Arbitrary Skepticism: In "Paris is Melting," the assembled Secret Scientists and Grey Men express disbelief that a Mirror Universe and Evil Counterparts could possibly exist - despite all the other fantastic things encountered and experienced. Doc and Drew know better from experience, but Doyle (who wasn't around for "Black Monday") not only doesn't question the possibility but finds the persistent disbelief ridiculous. Argost has assimilated the Kur powers from Zak's Evil Twin from an anti-matter Mirror Universe, and then does the same to Zak himself to become even more powerful.
But what Argost didn't realize (but Zak did) was what happens when matter and anti-matter combine, and Argost obliterates himself instead. Parental Obliviousness: The team is the entire family so they're pretty much aware of Zak and his high-spirited hijinks.
Back from the Dead The aforementioned crossover with Ben 10: Omniverse sees Argost revived by Dr. We saw some with how Drew grew up to be an Action Girl, and how her Long-Lost Relative became long lost. Badass Adorable: Zak - tiny and cute with that star shaped mop of hair, but he gets badass right as the first season comes to a close. Fiskerton - fluffy and cuddly and comical, but do not get between him and the family unless you want a world of hurt. Bad Future: In "The Return of Tsul 'Kalu", Tsun 'Kalu gives Zak visions of a future where he has completely embraced his Kur nature and uses his control of cryptids to wipe out humanity.
He's certainly trying to make his powers a force for good, despite the entire cryptid world being scared to death of him. The Saturdays find out too late that the building holding the ring was actually Kur's tomb, & Argost started these fights knowing that they would come and rescue all of the cryptids, including the guardian beast preventing him from venturing deeper into the tomb. Battle in the Rain: As seen in "The Return of Tsun 'Kalu", the showdown between Doc and Tsun 'Kalu that cost Doc his eye took place atop the Saturdays' Cool Airship during a downpour. Beastly Bloodsports: The Saturdays break up an underground cryptid fighting ring in "Cryptid vs.
Big Applesauce: The nagas attack Manhattan when the Saturdays are expecting them to attack Hong Kong instead. Big "NO!": By the entire family, but especially Doc after he sees his family being supposedly killed by Munya's traps.



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