Hillsdale is a weird little place, but I'm always glad when I make the trip - not because of the new statues, or the trees flowering on campus, or the stodgy guest lecturers, or the alcoholism-enabling parties, but because of the memories that stay after the hangover fades, the conversations that keep your heart shining after all the flights have lifted off, the smoky hugs and the laughter feasts.
Sexiest Tweet-Up ever
It felt strange to wander around the tiny campus and not recognize a single face. It's been three years since I graduated, and this year's class is the last one from my era - they were freshmen my senior year. I met some kids, bright-faced undergrads, whose eyes widened it shock when I named my class - I'm from a time machine, because in college, you can't remember how young you used to be, and you can't imagine ever being old enough to leave. It's a four year bubble that smacks you out at the end with dazed eyes, scrapings of knowledge under your fingernails.
Then you come back to campus and your old self isn't there. You see yourself in the crazy young souls running around, but you feel alienated by all the woes and dreams and pieces of life that have come crowding in since then. You want to dive back in to being your old self, but all these new kids are here, in the way, looking at you as at a dinosaur. I met some of them. They're amazing - smart, funny, excited. I think they thought I am cooler than I actually am, that I've got my life together, that I'm worth looking up to. It was a funny feeling. I wanted to be one of them, not to be the person they're staring at expectantly for the scoop about what happens after they walk across the stage with their diploma.
Apparently, the nostalgia-fueled insanity at last Fall's Homecoming was my last hurrah. I was back in Hillsdale this weekend to meet up with some dear friends at the Commencement and related activities. I expected to unleash lots of partying and irresponsibility that I assumed was building up behind my responsible (boring) exterior life. It wasn't.
I had an absolutely fabulous time in Hillsdale. But several times a day, I caught myself thinking, I'm too old for this.
I thought it each night when 11 pm struck and my body expected me to go to bed. I thought it when 8 am arrived and my body had me up, showered, bouncing out to get coffee and toilet paper, then back to watch HGTV, a good 3 hours before anyone else surfaced. I thought it Friday afternoon, when I was inordinately excited to visit professors' offices to discuss grad school. I thought it at the Friday night bonfire, where I recognized few faces, because it's been three years since I left and the student body has almost changed over. I thought it as I moved towards the less toxic smoke of the fire ring to escape the dozens of cigarettes burning my eyes. I thought it as my joints creaked when I sat down. I thought it when the vodka in my Nalgene seemed unappealing.
Gorgeous Katherine is pretty much why I came to town.
I thought it at the Saturday night Sangria party, resenting the loud chatter and pumpy music when I wanted to have an actual adult conversation. I thought it as I slowly wiggled my way through the crowded house towards the punch...bucket. I thought around 3 am as I scrubbed someone else's vomit off every square inch of...but more on that later. I thought it around 4 am as I shifted snoring strangers from couch to couch to make room for myself to sleep. I thought it Sunday morning, as I dug jumper cables out of my trunk to jumpstart a sophmore's car. I thought it as I packed the car with leg muscles that ached from so much walking and a throat burning from a weekend of second-hand smoke.
But the weekend wasn't all sober responsibility and grumpy-old-man type complaining. Far from it.
Because a fully responsible adult doesn't have one-and-a-half 32 oz Long Island Iced Teas at lunch on Friday.
She doesn't burst into Central Hall to ambush Ben in his office as he works.
She doesn't kidnap Alisa from her family and sneak her off to the Hunt Club for a glass of wine before graduation.
She doesn't skip the (3 + hour long) graduation altogether to drink mimosas and watch a Law & Order SVU marathon with Dean at Joel's house.
She doesn't traipse around campus draping the Snuggie on the celebrated and august Freedom Walk statues.
So maybe I'm not too old, yet, to have a little college fun. Who knows when I'll be back in Hillsdale. But thanks to Twitter and Facebook, we can all stay bff from around the world. I love technology!
Amazing ladies/fellow alumni
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