More Stories of Princeton in the Snow

Here are two stories, a generation apart: 

1. It was the winter of 1962-63. I lived in a 35 Little suite with a fireplace. I returned from a snowy weekend away and noticed the antique wooden chair my mother had donated to the group was missing. “Oh, We ran out of firewood, so we smashed it and burned it Saturday night.” 

2. It was the winter of 1992-93. My son John ’96, wearing only boots, participated in the new tradition of a nude run through campus after the first snow and was quoted in The Daily Princetonian as having “bum rushed the Wa.” My father, Ray Carter ’33, learned of his grandson’s efforts and feigned shock and dismay, but I suspect was grinning inside.