Bright College Years

Let me elaborate a little on my reunion which I had earlier called a giant mind-fuck: it was as though I spent the weekend in a perpetual state of déjà vu.

In one sense, it was seriously like I had never left school. I don't think I'd ever given a conscious thought to the scent of my freshman year dorm's stairwell, but the instant I opened the door to Durfee entryway B, the subtle smell yanked me back through time with such a jarring swirl that the woosh was almost audible and I had to pause to steady myself before climbing the steps. Later that first night, Bryan, Ben and I went to Yorkside for a slice (actually, I had the garlic cheese bread which tasted precisely as I unexpectedly expected it would), and as we lingered over the bill, I felt the creeping worry that my study break had already been too long and I needed to get back to my reading packet.

The sense of familiarity with my surroundings was overpowering, but it was as if I was in a some bifurcated bizarro parallel universe where almost everything was identical except that it rained donuts. Not only were we in Durfee, we were staying in the room next-door to my freshman year room (Bryan's suite). Everything was exactly as I remember - the 14-foot ceilings, the furniture, the nappy blue curtains... but it was all opposite of my frosh suite: the fireplace was on the wrong side of the common room and the bathroom was near the front door instead of at the end of the hallway. And the chairs had angled backlegs so you could rock back without falling over. Toads and Au Bon Pain and Ashley's were still there, but the Co-op was a Barnes & Noble and J.Crew and Urban Outfitters sat where some other miscellaneous shops should be. The Lipstick still stood in the Morse courtyard, but there was fancy leather furniture in the common room and Bryan's ex was now Dean. The lions still stood guard outside Wright Hall, but I'm fairly certain the flowering dogwoods framing the Durfee entryway don't belong there. The nave of the library was still flanked by card catalogs, but the central courtyard was instead a beautifully-enclosed music library. And what was that large modern building across from DUH on Hillhouse?

Similarly disconcerting, every time I turned around I saw familiar faces. You know what it's like to recognize someone but not be able to place how you might know them? Does she ride my bus? Is that the guy who works at Jamba? Did I work with that woman once? Is he the one from that party? Well nearly every face under the class tent was like that, though I never knew most of them even while in school. I saw people I felt like I should know and thought, wait, you went to my college? And of course many folks were a little thicker around the middle or a little thinner up top, had children in tow, dressed better.

Clearly, there were plenty of reminders that ten years really had gone by.

And now I have a new layer of memories associated with that place, which will surely make the next visit even more of a head game. What remained exactly as I remember, however (aside from the craptastic weather and sidewalks submerged by turbid puddles the size of small inland seas), was the great enjoyment of genuine friendship. Honestly, waiting with Ranie and the gang for a burger at Louis' Lunch, revisiting Zoe's tale of dating woe, meeting the newest member of Kristin's family, being jealous of Ben's chapeau de morses, waiting for the train with Bryan, I realized just what were the most important things I took away from school ... and I'm glad they've been there ever since.

To summarize (part tongue-in-cheek and part tear-on-cheek):

Bright College years, with pleasure rife,
The shortest, gladdest years of life;
How swiftly are ye gliding by!
Oh, why doth time so quickly fly?

The seasons come, the seasons go,
The earth is green or white with snow,
But time and change shall naught avail
To break the friendships formed at Yale.

In after years, should troubles rise
To cloud the blue of sunny skies,
How bright will seem, through mem'ry's haze
Those happy, golden, bygone days!

Oh, let us strive that ever we
May let these words our watch-cry be,
Where'er upon life's sea we sail:
"For God, for Country and for Yale!"