Alma Prognatus

I am quite proud of late, and with good reason. My son is completing his
Senior year of high school and is going through all the preliminaries of
entering college later this year. Any parent who's child makes it this far has
the right to be proud, but that is not why I am proud. He got an amazing 33 on
his ACT which put him in the top 3% nationwide and earned him a nice scholarship
and admittance to his choice of schools, but that is not why I am proud. 
He has already earned an additional scholarship and it looks like paying for
college won't be scary at all, but that's not why I am proud.

I am proud because my son has chosen to attend my alma mater. It is so cool
that, out of all the places that are clamoring for him, he chose the same
institution that I attended. I like to think that it was not just because of the
great academic program there or the fact that the particular school he wishes to
attend has gained national acclaim. I like to tell myself  it was because
of him hearing my wistful ramblings and my electrifying nostalgic accounts of
what my life was like when I went there and wanting to experience such wonder
himself. You see, he gets this opportunity about once a year as we have occasion
to pass through this college town on our travels. 

You could almost hear his eyes rolling as I pulled off the road saying,
"Let me show you where I went to school." After that came an
hour of having to endure my pointing at buildings and rambling on about events
they had to no way of relating and people whom they had never and never would
meet. Then, mercifully, my nostalgic urges sated and my companion staring on in
trivia-induced stupefaction, we would continue our voyage. I was actually
astonished that he chose this university- I would think he  had enough of
it.

This last trip through that town was different. For one thing, we stopped. My
son and I had left early that morning and driven down there so that he could
attend an interview for a possible scholarship plus participate in some other
"please go to school here" activities. At first it was exhilarating. I
had promised myself earlier that, since this was my son's day, I would not spend
it forcing him to relive my memories. Inside, the memories swept me away like a
river. Colleges are weird places. They are both cutting edge and timeless, avant-garde
and ancient. In some ways they are dynamic and in others they never change. As I
walked toward the Union again, all the intervening years since I had left simply
disappeared into the ether.

That was where I watched my first eclipse. Over there was where I picked a
copy of a the student paper. That's the place we would eat pizza, drink beer,
and argue about the ills of the world late into the night. Here was where I met
Shelly, there was where we used to study until late into the night, and right
there is the last place we held each other before she left for the summer and
out of my life forever. The steps over there was where I met Laurie and
everything beautiful again. The time warp sucked me in and it was just as if I
could look up to see a couple of my buddies coming toward me. I could here one
asking, "Hey man, we found about this great kegger tonight. Lots of beer
and lots a hot girls. Wanna go?"  

"Dad?" Suddenly, I was reeled into the present. My son stood before
me. The realization that those people and experiences were from a lifetime ago
hit me in the chest like a ball bat. "Dad, I am done, wanna go?"

No, son, I don't wanna go. I really can't understand why I ever wanted to
leave in the first place. College was pure living, stretching and exercising the
mind, the body, and the soul to their deepest core. It was the ideal life
balanced with stimulation and happy bliss, of grave seriousness and wild animal
behavior. I should never have left and now I deeply regret having done so. Did I
ever really want a job, a wife, and 2.5 kids? How stupid was I? Things
were so perfect here.

I looked around me. These were not the same people I went to school with.
Their clothes were different and many of the had piercings and tattoos. I saw
the bookstore was now the "Student Success Center" and wondered when
that happened. It was as if I had just woken from a coma.

"Yeah, let's go. It's not like we won't be back." On the way home,
I did indulge myself. I found a radio station that played some of the music from
my "college days" and replayed my fondest memories on the way home. My
son was sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, recovering from the trauma at
being up before 5:00 AM, so I was uninterrupted in my reverie.

Everyone says that college is the best four years of your life and I
understand why they feel that way. This was the time after you left the
"overbearing bullying" of your parents yet were not yet responsible to
a spouse or a boss. These were the days you were only responsible to yourself,
when some faceless entity saw to it that the bills were paid, and when you did
not even have to clean your room unless you wanted to have a girl over. It was
the time all children dream of when you could stay up as late as you wished, eat
whatever and whenever you wanted, and to play with whichever "toys"
you chose. We did not realize how great we had it then. Now we yearn to escape
the stress and pressure of being a responsible adult and go back to the days
where the biggest worries were getting that paper done by Monday and finding out
where the best party was next weekend.

That's why people say these are the best years of your life. I am lucky that
I can relive my college days surreptitiously through my son. Well, if not, at
least I can find more excuses to be nostalgic.