Strangers in a Small Room

It's been more than 30 years since I first set eyes on a small room in Shafer and waited to meet the stranger with whom I would share that space. I had a 40-minute drive from my home in Massachusetts, but she had a transcontinental flight from Northern California; I had my mother’s car stuffed full of belongings, but she had a single suitcase and a box. There was no way to know then how our relationship would progress. But after we shared our first finals all-nighter and watched the sun rise while dancing on our beds, I think part of me knew that we had something special. Years later, when I visited her in San Francisco, she drove us to the beach at dusk so that we could watch the sun set together, too. I knew for sure, then.

The bond between first-year roommates is unique. You are thrown together at a stressful time, when you’re coming to an academically rigorous institution, often away from your family for the first time, and oh, yeah—going to live in a dorm room with a complete stranger. The methods behind the housing department’s rooming system remain largely a mystery, but those first-year pairings can create memories—and friendships—that last a lifetime.

The magazine received hundreds of responses to our call for first-year roommates who have remained lifelong friends, and while we sadly cannot highlight them all, here is a selection of stories showcasing the power of these enduring friendships.

Across the Pond & Back Again

Sally Lemly Knutson ’64
Gwyneth Elkinton Loud ’64
First-year dorm: Munger

Even after 60-plus years of friendship, Sally Lemly Knutson ’64 and Gwyneth Elkinton Loud ’64 are still uncovering memories. Knutson recently confessed to being terrified of tumbling in P.E., while Loud recalls the pink stationery and lovely handwriting of the letter Knutson sent before they met in 1960. Despite being assigned to a room that should have been a single, they adapted quickly. Loud credits it to a combination of their differing interests—she was immersed in science courses and field hockey, while Knutson pursued English (and, as it turns out, got a D in tumbling)—and her own boarding school experience. “We were comfortable friends right from the start, but not close friends right from the start,” Knutson says. They didn’t room together again, but they saw each other regularly.

Their friendship deepened just after Wellesley, when they both secured teaching positions at an Anglican girls school in England. “We never dreamed that the same school would hire both of us,” Knutson says. “It was just wonderful to be together,” Loud says. Living in a faculty house, they explored the country together, visiting London frequently, and they made a trip to Paris. But the most memorable experience came in early 1965, when they were sent as chaperones for students attending Winston Churchill’s lying in state at Westminster Hall. Moved by the women who had served in World War II and were now offering tea to those waiting in line, they decided to attend the funeral.

The night before the service, after seeing a play, they checked out the scene at St. Paul’s Cathedral. “British folk were already queuing on the sidewalk, and it was around 10 o’clock at night,” Knutson says. So, they decided to stay. To keep warm, they grabbed apricot brandies from a pub before it closed, and they waited with the growing crowds. “That was a very historic weekend that we shared,” Knutson says.

They both returned to the States after a year and stayed in touch as life pulled them in different directions. Knutson was Loud’s maid of honor. “That was an important little jewel in the necklace of our friendship,” Loud says. Loud later became the godmother to Knutson’s first child. Though distance keeps them physically apart—Knutson in Schenectady, N.Y., and Loud in Lincoln, Mass.—their friendship keeps them together, as they celebrate grandchildren, birthdays, and reunions. “Our phone conversations are erratic,” Loud says, “but every time we speak, we probably speak for an hour. We’ve been able to care for each other.” Knutson credits the longevity of their friendship to their shared values: “I can talk with Gwyn about things that other people might not give the same seriousness. So that’s an extraordinary gift.”

From Debutantes to Revolutionaries

Alvia Wardlaw ’69
Karen Williamson ’69
First-year dorm: Davis

“Roomie!” It may have been nearly 60 years since they roomed together at Wellesley, but the greeting was instantaneous on a recent call with Alvia Wardlaw ’69 and Karen Williamson ’69. Then they were off and laughing.

Wardlaw vividly recalls her late arrival on her first day, after taking a train, a bus, and a cab to campus. When she finally walked into her room, she found both beds already made—with matching bedspreads brought by Williamson’s mother. “That was a warm welcome in itself,” she says. Williamson had been anxiously awaiting her roommate’s arrival. “In 1965, Wellesley was sort of a foreign experience. As a Black woman from St. Louis, I didn’t really know what to expect. I know I didn’t expect another African American roommate.”

As two of just six Black students in their class, their pairing stood out. “What a coincidence!” Wardlaw says. But as they sought out their other Black classmates, a pattern emerged—one that pointed to an unspoken rooming policy. “That, I think, was the beginning of our activism on campus,” Wardlaw says. Those early conversations laid the groundwork for what became Ethos, the College’s first Black student organization, the following year.

Beyond activism, Williamson and Wardlaw shaped each other’s lives in unexpected ways. Williamson had a copy of The Sweet Flypaper of Life, a collaboration between writer Langston Hughes and photographer Roy DeCarava. “It was such an amazing book, and I had to go get my own copy,” Wardlaw says. Years later, as a curator at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, she organized her first exhibition—on DeCarava. “That’s because of Karen,” she says.

A roommate’s influence can be felt in smaller moments, too. That first year together, when Wardlaw prepared for her debutante presentation in Houston, Williamson—already a debutante in St. Louis—insisted she perfect her bow. “She said, ‘No, you’ve got to be an expression of grace,’” Wardlaw recalls. They laugh, marveling at how they transformed from debutantes to revolutionaries in the ’60s. Wardlaw says, “That’s how we came in. And then we—” Williamson finishes, “We transformed it.”

Though they never roomed together again, they stayed close. Reunions, including those involving Ethos and Harambee House, are a major touchstone. “After getting our children out, I think we’ve actually been able to get closer,” Williamson says.

The admiration and respect the two feel is obvious as they report each other’s accomplishments, from Williamson’s turn as the first Black president of the Alumnae Association to Wardlaw’s accolades as an Alumnae Achievement Award recipient. “She blazes the trail in so many ways,” Wardlaw says. Williamson responds, “I’m just running, trying to keep up with her.”

Typewriters, Gerbils, & Trust

Terri Hauser ’79
Jamie Graham ’79
First-year dorm: Davis

In 1975, Terri Hauser ’79 and Jamie Graham ’79 knew two things about each other: Neither of them smoked, and their birthdays were four days apart. Fifty years later, they’ve seen one another through everything life’s thrown at them, from career shifts to cancer.

But first, they shared a tiny room in Davis—and vastly different schedules and interests. Hauser was a light sleeper, a political science major, and a night owl; Graham was a heavy sleeper and had to get up early for her molecular biology classes. Hauser had an IBM Selectric typewriter, and Graham would help her type her papers in return for use of the typewriter. “We shared the resources,” Graham says. The next year, the two roomed together again in a suite and shared more than just a typewriter—they had pet gerbils, named Polly and Molly (after their respective majors). “Our dormmates thought we were crazy, and we were, because they were very, very messy and noisy, but they were fun for a while,” Graham says, laughing.

And something about their friendship was just … meant to be. After graduation, political work brought Hauser to Washington, D.C., where she has remained, while Graham went into patent law, which brought her to the Washington area frequently while she lived in New York and then Atlanta. “We made excuses to see each other,” Hauser says. They even took a river cruise on the Danube together to celebrate their 60th birthdays.

Their bond proved especially strong last year after Hauser was diagnosed with cancer. Living alone, she was worried about managing chemotherapy. As fate would have it, Graham had just taken a new job with a company in the Washington area. “Terri’s infusion was, I think, the next week, and I said, ‘I will be there.’” The new position offered some flexibility, so Graham was able to time her trips to the city to coincide with Hauser’s treatments. “We have built a lot of trust between us that we’ve really got from the very beginning. And we help each other,” Graham says. Hauser adds, “We became independent adults, women, together, and that is a really strong bond. We shared the experience of leaving home … so your life was at Wellesley, and this was your new family. Jamie is family, and I think we would both do anything for each other.”

Hauser has finished chemotherapy, but that doesn’t mean Graham sees her less. In fact, Graham’s job offered to move her to the Washington area. “So, I now have a condo, and not only is it in the D.C. area, but it’s across the parking lot from Terri’s condo,” Graham says. “It’s meant to be.”

An Uncommon Connection

K. Brooke Rigler Adams ’89
Maria Jerinic-Pravica ’89
First-year dorm: Tower Court East

“All through the four years at Wellesley, and even to this day, I feel like I hit the jackpot,” K. Brooke Rigler Adams ’89 says. She and Maria Jerinic-Pravica ’89 were randomly paired together as first-years—although family lore hints otherwise. Adams’ mother is Katherine Curtis Rigler ’61, who was an alumnae trustee at the time, and Jerinic-Pravica’s grandmother thought perhaps she had a hand in the fortuitous pairing. “My grandmother was convinced that [Rigler Adams’] mother went in and handpicked us to be roommates,” Jerinic-Pravica says. After their first year together in Tower Court, sharing everything from a single phone line to their English majors and their favorite books, the pair chose to live together again sophomore year—and then live next to each other junior and senior years. And they’ve roomed together at reunion ever since.

“People mixed us up, and they still mix us up,” Jerinic-Pravica says, laughing. “Maybe on the surface, we were different. I was really messy and too emotional and loud, so Brooke had a lot of patience with me.” She found the experience of bonding through that year to have lifelong value. “You should have roommates,” Jerinic-Pravica says. “You learn that you can have a bad patch and you can weather it, and you can get through it. It’s just such a bedrock of how I move through the world. … [Our friendship] is just a constant in my life.”

In fact, the two chose to tour Europe for six weeks together after graduation, largely without a plan. “We had a ticket into London and a ticket out of Italy, and in between, we didn’t even have reservations most places,” Adams says. “That trip was a testament to the incredible friendship that we formed—that before we went our separate ways and entered adulthood, we wanted to take this time together to enjoy everything.”

Adulthood has seen them live near each other (when both were in the Washington, D.C., area for a time) and live thousands of miles apart. But the connection has never wavered, from Jerinic-Pravica standing up as Adams’ maid of honor, to their children having playdates together, to late-night texting conversations that make their current time difference work in their favor. They attribute their 40-year friendship not only to their shared values and interests, but also to the relationships they saw among other Wellesley alumnae. “We had the model of [Adams’ mother], because she has so many friends from Wellesley that she stayed in touch with,” Jerinic-Pravica says. “We had this model of female friendship and connection.”

A Crash Course in Friendship

Arti Bhatt ’99
Rasheea Williams Hall ’99
First-year dorm: Shafer

The first year of college can be stressful—new classes, new independence, new friends, and, for most students, a brand-new roommate. Adding the loss of a parent to that makes everything even harder.

“That year was pivotal,” Rasheea Williams Hall ’99 says. “My mom died that year.” But her roommate, Arti Bhatt ’99, and other first-year friends were there for her. “[They] really helped me out and got me through the year, because there were times when I was just, like, catatonic,” Hall says. “[We] were so young, who knew how to deal with grief? But Arti gave me my space, and I remember her—and her entire family—being so awesome to me.”

Despite the challenges of life, Bhatt and Hall just clicked. “I felt safe with Rasheea right away,” Bhatt says. The first time they met in their dorm room, Bhatt distinctly remembers Hall’s smile. And Hall laughs, remembering not only her own beehive hairstyle but also that she worried Bhatt was messy because “her stuff was everywhere.” Bhatt proudly displays in her home a photo taken that day, framed beside a photo of the two of them at her wedding. “I felt like it was pretty easy from the very beginning,” Hall says. “Arti was a real safe space for me.”

There were moments of drama, of course—it was college, after all—but the two got through them together. Sophomore year, Hall became a resident advisor, so the two didn’t room together again, but they visited each other while studying abroad junior year and shared many meals together in Tower Court dining hall senior year. “We would stay there for hours, just eating and talking,” Hall says. “Those were the best days.”

That friendship kept them close after graduation. Hall was there when Bhatt started dating her now husband and served as maid of honor in her wedding, and she was there when Bhatt’s daughter was born; Bhatt is godmother to one of Hall’s daughters. When they both lived near New York City for a time, they would meet regularly for Sunday brunch, just like their dining hall days. “Whenever anything major happens in my life, she’s one of the first people I go to,” Bhatt says.

Bhatt—and Wellesley—was even part of Hall’s husband’s marriage proposal. While at reunion, Bhatt was supposed to get Hall to the site of their first date. But when Bhatt listened to a voicemail about the arrangements from Hall’s husband while driving, Hall recognized his voice. Bhatt then rear-ended the car in front of her. “But we were fine, it was fine!” she says. In the hubbub, Hall forgot about the call. And the proposal went off the next day without a hitch. “I remember Arti being so nervous that weekend,” Hall says, laughing. “And then it all came out that she just wanted it to go well. That’s the type of person she is.”

A Friendship that Goes the Distance

Evangeline “Lia” Arapoglou ’06
Jen Marcello ’06
First-year dorm: Pomeroy

When Lia Arapoglou ’06 received word that her roommate would be Jen Marcello ’06, all she knew was her name, her home state (Rhode Island), and that she was going to play soccer. “I was imagining what Jen was going to be like,” Arapoglou says. “I’m thinking I’m going to get this peppy blonde roommate.” But as they exchanged emails, “Jen’s like, ‘Fun fact about me: I’m adopted from Korea,’” Arapoglou says. And then they really started to get to know each other. Arapoglou was from New York, and Marcello loved the city. “I was definitely fascinated by the fact that Lia grew up in the city versus my small town, and her sophistication came through even in those initial emails,” Marcello says.

They both tried to manage the academic stresses at Wellesley while juggling extracurriculars and athletics, and finding friends. “We were just trying to navigate all of that,” Marcello says. “We were kind of goofy a lot, because it was like we needed some kind of creative release because we were both under a lot of pressure.” That year, Arapoglou had ankle surgery and borrowed Marcello’s ruler to scratch beneath her cast—and broke it inside. “Jen put up with a lot of my shenanigans,” she says.

“But our room was like a sanctuary,” Marcello says. “We would talk about pretty much any and everything,” Arapoglou adds. That first year led to a second year of rooming together, and then living next door to each other junior and senior years. After graduation, the pair traveled to Korea for several weeks along with Cindy Kim ’06 and Marcello’s sister. “It was a wonderful trip,” Arapoglou says. “And then we all went our separate ways into the big world.”

But not so separate as to not keep in touch—and even revisit rooming together for one summer when they were both in New York. After both attended business school, they overlapped in the city for two years. “And we lived like, two avenues away from one another,” Arapoglou says. Life has since pulled them geographically apart, as Arapoglou married and moved to Peru, while Marcello remains in New York. Now motherhood and work keep them busy, but they try to visit as much as they can, and they keep up regularly the same way they initially met—online.

“We leave each other random video memos,” Marcello says. Although they haven’t lived in the same area in 12 years, “we’ve both tried to make the effort to reach out to one another,” Arapoglou says. And although they share both the good and bad, they also are quick to share a laugh. “As soon as we met, we realized we have the same sense of humor,” Marcello says. “There’s never a video memo that I get that I’m not laughing about something. There might be some really deep topics, but then there’s always a moment of levity.”