Kissing at the Crosswalk

Posted March 9, 2016

Stephen C. Hall, a member of the Ivan Allen College Advisory Board and the namesake of Georgia Tech's Stephen C. Hall building, wrote about his undergraduate experience at Georgia Tech for the spring 2016 issue of the Georgia Tech Alumni Magazine.

The time is the fall of 1963. I was a Rat Cap freshman, and like all the other guys—there were only 12 female students at the time — I was merely trying to survive at Tech. I had done well in high school and had walked on campus with a self-image only slightly smaller than the Goodyear blimp. But six weeks later, I was fighting for my college life, with the heretofore unknown phrase “academic probation” having found its way into my vocabulary. 

Like most kids back then I had very little money — I was on a $1-a-day budget. But unlike most other kids, I had no family in this country. My father was an Army officer, and my family was living in South Korea. I would not see them for two-and-a-half years and would share only one scratchy phone call with them in all that time. I lived across town in Morningside with my grandparents, riding the No. 16 Noble bus to and from classes. Living away from campus meant I had almost zero after-class friends and no social life at all. It was not a happy time.

One Friday evening, I had just finished a lab, and was crossing the park in front of the Admin Building on my way to the bus stop on West Peachtree Street. It was a beautiful evening. The old-growth trees that sentineled the park were changing color, there was a nip in the air, and the illuminated Tech Tower put an early evening glow over the whole scene. It was a beautiful venue, but difficult to enjoy because I was completely by myself, completely on my own, no joy in sight. I had never felt lonelier in my life.

The park is crisscrossed with two walks, and in 1963 a sundial (now gone—I know not why) stood at the intersection. I stopped at that intersection, looked around and began thinking. “I know we’ve gotta pay our dues in this world,” I said to myself. “But I’ll be glad when this part is over, ’cause it isn’t much fun right now.” 

Though still only 18 years old, I had already begun making big life promises to myself — so big I would officially number them — that I vowed to keep no matter what. I had made two thus far and would eventually make six total during my lifetime. That evening I made Promise No. 3: “Someday I will stand on this exact spot and will be as happy then as I am sad this night.” 

I gave the scene one last look, took a deep breath, and headed for the bus stop.
The years came and the years went, and happiness — underwritten in no small part by a successful Tech experience — supplanted many times over the sadness of that evening. But I never forgot those minutes alone by the sundial. 

And now, whenever my bride of 45 years and I return to campus, we always visit the crosswalk. I gaze upon the same trees that had quietly watched over the solitary freshman that night, and then I proclaim in a voice triumphant, “I told you I’d do it! I told you I’d do it!” 

I smile at my bride and say, “Darlin’, assume the position.” She does. I plant a big, ol’ smooch on her lips and fulfill a promise made 50-plus years ago.

So I hereby propose a new Tech tradition: Kissing at the Crosswalk. Whenever you and your sweetheart visit the spot, stop and have a warm thought for each other and for all the things the Institute has made possible in your lives. Tell your sweetheart, “Darlin’ assume the position,” and then exchange an industrial-strength kiss. If we do this right, we can add yet another tradition to the many that cloak our alma mater — and we can teach all those young folks a thing or two about smooching!