323 Stonemill

In the winter of 1984, the yellow house near the end of Stonemill bunked a group of junior and senior women excited to be the second group to reside in the University’s designated living space for honors students.

Christine O’Connor ’84 and Martha Reddy Lehman ’84 were seniors, while Julie Memering Zielinksi ’85 and Mary Beth Penn Joseph ’85 were in their junior year. Though happy with their housing arrangements, the building admittedly wasn’t the most sound structure.  

“Julie and Mary Beth were so kind to us,” said O’Connor. “They said that since Martha and I were seniors, we should have our own bedrooms.” 

So Zielinksi and Joseph slept in the third bedroom on the first floor, which was decidedly more of a hasty addition to the house.  

The back bedroom off the kitchen was essentially an enclosed porch covered in plastic, O’Connor explained. 

The worst part, according to Zielinksi, was the room color. It was an obnoxious blue hue, one that you may find lining the bottom of a swimming pool, now slapped onto the walls of a makeshift bedroom. 

And it was drafty, really drafty, with sloped floors that would send round objects sliding across the room — or sometimes, scurrying. 

Unbeknownst to the girls when they moved in, they shared their home with a furry fifth roommate. A small mouse would make its presence known by darting across the kitchen, frightening anyone trying to sneak a bite of Lehman’s renowned cookie dough. 

One day, O’Connor was reaching around on top of the fridge when her hand landed on an innocuous Tupperware container holding something. Curious, she opened the lid and promptly screamed in terror. 

The mouse, which had somehow met its demise, was now resting in a container they normally used for food storage. 

Could this be retribution for switching their neighbor’s porch lightbulb to a red one? Even with the house dedicated to their studies, the quartet had their fair share of shenanigans.

Though the women were frequently targeted by the mischievous group of honors boys who lived next door, this makeshift mouse mausoleum was no morbid prank. To O’Connor’s horror, she had stumbled upon Joseph’s plans for a formal goodbye to the creature that once roamed about the yellow house. 

“I didn’t know it had died,” O’Connor said.

“I screamed. I was really angry with her, because how could you do that? It’s disgusting!”  

Her tune quickly changed as she saw the humor in the situation. Joseph, a premedicine major, had plans to honor the mouse with a funeral and a proper burial in the backyard. Together, they completed the mourning procession and struggled to dig a hole deep enough in the wintertime. 

As a house, they said goodbye to the rodent and buried him at his final resting place, holding back giggles in the process. 

“It was fun,” O’Connor remarked. “We were really silly.” 

Want to suggest your old house for a future issue? Email us at magazine@udayton.edu

A version of this article appears in print in the Spring 2025 University of Dayton Magazine, Page 48. EXPLORE THE ISSUE — MORE ONLINE