Reunited (and it feels so good)

Did I mention that I was going to my 20 year college reunion this past weekend? What? I didn’t??? I’m sure I must have said something in passing…

WELL! So sorry to have kept you waiting for an update. My pal – loyal reader and frequent commenter Randi – and I hopped in the Suburban on Saturday morning, and headed north through the lovely south-central PA orchard country to picturesque Carlisle, PA, home of Dickinson College, our alma matter. We were in the company of hundreds of alumni spanning many decades, but most of us graduated in a year that ended in 4 or 9.

It was a good thing there were nametags. When two decades separate you and the kids you lived with, dined with, learned with, and partied with, you tend to forget little details such as NAMES. Not faces, but names.  Or at least I had. But one glimpse of a once-familiar face and old memories would come rushing back to the surface. Oh, him? We had Political Science together, Professor Fishman’s class.  Her? She was a Delta Nu.  Roomed with those other two girls – the ones who smoked all the time. I sang in choir with that guy.  Oh, her? She was an excellent violinist in the orchestra.

Another crazy detail I had completely blocked out? SLAMMING! DORM! DOORS!  You see, Randi and I are on a Budget. We decided that for $25 each, we could enjoy endure one night in a dorm room.  Oh, was it ever sparse: Cinder block walls, two twin beds with linen-service sheets (not Egyptian cotton), no mattress pad, two of the tiniest, scratchiest towels ever, plus two Dixie cups and one hotel-sized bar of soap.  Still, we had our own air conditioning unit, and did I mention the bargain price? All we had to do was sell our souls to spend a night just down the hallway from the Class Lounge, which was decked out with an original, authentic Beer Pong table, a full-sized fridge to chill said beer, couches, a flat-panel TV, and a dozen or so members of the class of ‘89 who were feelin’ 22 but lookin’ 42. 

The doors slammed until 2am. There was yelling and loudness and it sounded for all the world like my freshman dorm. Except that it was not a bunch of crazy young adults whooping it up, but the parents of school-age children!  Fully-functioning adults with mortgages and investments and luxury autos! The noise finally subsided, but in the morning? SLAM… SLAM! SLAM, SLAM, SLAM…. SLAM! Out of the room and into the bathroom… back out of the bathroom and into the room again. I had forgotten all about how you don’t really need an alarm clock – you can count on the doors of the early risers to make sure you’ll wake up on time.

But really, the dorm was all we needed, for we spent most of the time out and about, reconnecting with old friends.  We were all

Meg and Annie

…and all…

Deb, Michele and Becki on the front steps of Drayer Hall, where we all lived for two years

We lunched on the field. We cocktailed on the plaza. We chatted under shade trees with sorority sisters. We toured through dorms and walked past our old rooms and swapped stories of our formative years.  We gathered ’round copies of our yearbook and reminisced. We ate dinner outdoors under tents, then got lost finding a wine and cheese reception for our class in an academic building that wasn’t there 20 years ago.  (Note to planners: Have mercy in 2014!!) We rolled through a party with a band, decided it was too loud, then went back to the dorm where  the beer pong was in full swing. We stayed up talking and gossiping and remembering.

Sunday morning, we decided we weren’t up for dorm showers (because? EW!), so we rolled out of the dorm and headed to the champagne brunch on the plaza. It was very hangover-friendly civilized- mimosas and fruit and eggs and potato casseroles and a classy jazz combo:

Lunch on Britton Plaza, Dickinson College, Carlisle PA

After filling up on breakfast, we headed downstairs to the college bookstore. Adjacent is a new convenience store that stocks cold drinks and snack foods and SUNDAY NEWSPAPERS!

WAIT – Randi couldn’t believe her eyes. You see, Randi has vivid memories of her campus job in the library, where her library supervisor on Sunday mornings made her WALK downtown to pick up all the Sunday papers to bring back to the library. (Kids, this was before the Internet, when the only newspapers were literally printed on PAPER. Ask your parents.) Well, guess who her supervisor was that year? None other than Soup Husband Curt!

She was all…

Randi, incredulous, points towards a rack of Sunday Papers.

And the Devil’s Den was all…

You can read it in the Sunday Papers.

Anyway… it was good to go back, to reconnect with old friends, and to make some new ones, too.   I needn’t have fretted about what to wear – everything and everyone was casual.  I gained a bunch of Facebook friends, so at the next reunion, we won’t have as much catching up to do.  The weather was perfect, the food and drinks were good, and the company?

PRICELESS.