More than simple nostalgia, my first alumni reunion was an emotional puree. I arrived Thursday afternoon to spend the day in peaceful reconnoitering of a campus I’d been away from for quite some time. Passing beneath maple, oak, and the shadow of the Hesburgh, I felt I could very nearly displace myself to twenty years ago and feel it all again: the pleasant joy of the springtime campus’s beauty being lifted from winter; the excitement of possibilities – any major, every class, a world of knowledge to unlock; the flash image of my family milling about in Farley Hall before graduation, taking snapshots of them as they got ready for the big events. I remembered using Stepan Hall as a shortcut through the cold, giving a classmate grief outside the Snite Art Museum over his unbelievable story of his improbable girlfriend (now wife), grabbing snacks out of Decio Hall, being a malcontent. I remembered walking toward LaFortune at school year’s beginning, with Candlebox’s “Gone Away” playing on a loudspeaker just outside the fountain – a reminder then of high school and my high school friends; much later exiting LaFortune into a curtain of slowly drifting thick snow with Evanescence’s “Bring Me to Life” playing on my headphones. I remember thinking how impeccably the snow and sound went together. It would take a gust of wind to slap the reunion lanyard against me, name and class, to shunt me back to the present – a rude reminder to acknowledge the stark reality of middle age in this environment, the very present contrast of being at the nexus where so many potential future paths were once open, epitomized by the very buildings around me, now sealed shut with no meaningful way to at least lock time, never mind rewind it. A sullenness started to take, not at all helped by the thought that I arrived alone. Passing between the Hesburgh Library toward North Quad, I decided to focus again on the thought of halting time (a pastime, really), and I mused again its impossibility; enthalpy prevents any meaningful stifling. Thinking Man can’t exist in a world without time, heat must flow. That reminded me of the theorized heat death of the universe; then I saw a dead bird beneath the tree to my right. I paused my walk, then decided to rapidly turn my back to coincidence. Life seems simpler that way.
As I further wandered campus, throttling the flow of memories into a sensible stream of thought, I realized this place is more an emotional locus now to me than it ever was, or could have been, when I was younger. I was never “present”, though I had been here. I used to revel in a foolishly disguised anti-establishmentarianism, preventing myself from just enjoying the University for what it is. My now changed perspective would have been impossible without Life giving these memories meaning in the context of growing older and embracing mounting personal and professional responsibilities.
Nothing like strolling memory lane to get the blood moving.
I sat at Legends, of which I was once a frequent patron, however had never been to solo. My last memory was from the summer of 2004, grabbing lunch with the remaining fellow ex-students whom I’d known from a previous summer at UNDERC. We talked about many things, including what we thought we would be up to post-graduation. Communal, engaging, laughter, friendship, goodbye – echograms I assign now to that memory. Friday nights in the back booth eating burger and fries and drinking pint after pint disrupted by slapping tables, raucous laughter, and everyone taking their shots at each other, a pack of miscreants ready to be the world’s future leaders. “Strange”, is the only word that came to mind at the changed dynamics.
Of my cadre of early ‘00’s cohorts, I was the only one who could make it (re: mounting responsibilities). The emotional mixture that I could only describe as sublimely splendid soft sorrow did not last long – because it is the University of Notre Dame. No other college or university so successfully creates and sustains its own family. Frankly, I struggle to think of a better word than family. Everyone on campus that reunion weekend was family, and in my wanderings, I met many great people willing to strike up a warm conversation, distant relatives meeting for the first time. Since I did not think to ask permission to use full names in vain, I will say it was a pleasure to meet fellow submariner Edward and his wife; share drinks with Mike, Richard, and Larry and hear how campus and culture changed from the ‘60’s until today; meet and thereafter sporadically run into Brian of 1969 (to differentiate); and, well, unfortunately I forget the gentleman’s name, but I shared breakfast one morning with an alum, his wife, and grandchildren who traveled to visit. To Mary, from the North Dining Hall, and Dana, from the Hesburgh Library, thank you for indulging my questions.
Separately, it was impressive to see how the campus has changed, to really see how University investments are being put to work to continually work towards being a world-class academic leader. The new facilities are amazing, with more ground being broken to pave the way for future scholars to be provided what will undoubtedly the best facilities for leading edge research and study. Just a few observations: 1) Duncan Student Center’s fitness center is fantastic, though part of me wanted to hit the track at Rolf’s again. 2) Jordan Hall of Science is stunning, and the “All Creation Gives Praise” viewing was a wonderful journey through the organizing strata of creation. Well done. 3) Not Least: The dark room on the first floor of the Hesburgh Library is open for anyone to tour, rotates what is on display, and has yearbooks from 1927 onward. I was one of four people in a span of one hour to say some rendition of “I always thought this area was off limits.” It’s not, and they really enjoy having people.
Leaving campus, I was left to suppose all this is the purpose of reunion weekend. One-part sabbatical, one-part spiritual journey, a dash of reinvigoration. Being back on campus is renewing, but enjoying the weekend with the alumni community, sharing our collective memories, the things that made us laugh, the things that got us in trouble, the places we’ve been and lives we’ve lived so far, that is what made the weekend truly memorable. Call it what you will, I’m settling for the spirit of Notre Dame for now: the palpable connection drawing together each and every Domer, where none are strangers, all are welcome. One can arrive alone on alumni weekend and never be alone. Thank you to the University staff, our Alumni Association, and those student volunteers who made it an absolute treasure of a weekend. But to end with one new shenanigan imprinted to memory: There I am, in the refreshment tent’s full and merry evening crowd, trying to wade through to an open spot when Edward (who I met that day at the North Dining Hall) says, “Watch out!”, as I was backing away with drink in hand. Then I swear I hear “And the priest behind you!”. Me, I’m thinking “Yeah, it’s busy, but we missed the rabbi,” – then ran into a priest behind me!
Thank you, Father, for being understanding.
However, if there is one thing that I regret from the whole weekend, one moment I wish I could take back and turn around, one ringing thought that failed to quiet down – we lost Larry.
Larry, if you’re reading this, I don’t know how we lost track of you on the way to the All Class Mass, but I hope you had a blessed rest of the weekend.
Cheers all and see you in five years.
