Sometimes, the best part about going home- is reinventing what it means to have been there before.
Saturday morning came faster than Iˆ‚d anticipated.
Thereˆ‚s something about sleeping in a king sized bed when youˆ‚re not used to it. I imagine itˆ‚s what it must be like to grow up in a city and end up in North Dakota. Youˆ‚re used to living your life in such close quarters, you come to cherish the intimacy of it all. Then, once youˆ‚ve grown used to it, youˆ‚re thrust into a place when you can go a day without seeing another living person. The isolation can really throw you off.
Thatˆ‚s how thrown off I was when our wake up call came at 7:45a. Nena had agreed to go to an 8:15a yoga class with Tilly and DJ so I had to be up in time to take her to said yoga class. As off my game as I was when the alarm went off, I was thankful that I didnˆ‚t have a hangover to make things worse. This is what I get for only having a pint of Strongbow at the Cow the night before. Sometimes, I amaze myself with my brilliance and forethought.
I dropped Nena off at her class and headed back to the manger to grab my complimentary breakfast of assorted starches and fats before I showered, picked up Nena and had her take me to my meeting. Iˆ‚m glad that things went as quickly and as mindlessly as they did, because if Iˆ‚d thought about what was awaiting me at this meeting, I donˆ‚t think I would have gone. Walking into Bird House for this meeting was like stepping back in time, to a version of the past that didnˆ‚t actually exist, but that when viewed through the lens of nostalgia made all kinds of sense.
I was there before anyone else so I got to stand around and make small talk with two alums from other classes that Iˆ‚d never met before- and watch as my own classmates trickled in one by one. First came JC, looking just like he had all those years ago. Preppy sweater, collared shirt ironed just so and his curly hair counteracting a hairline that must have done all of its receding before the age of 18. Shoe came next, older but still the same face and personality I remember from our AMS colloquium four winters ago and on and on it went, familiar faces that were never really friends coming in, making small talk and rewriting history to say that all of us had been grand compatriots in the past. We were all buddies thanks to the kind lighting of nostalgia- and it felt good. So good that all we could do when we spied BackDoor getting lost outside our window was laugh. Laugh because he was just as scattered and just as loveable as heˆ‚d been all those years ago. It was as if his unchanging nature cemented that our revisionist history had the universeˆ‚s stamp of approval.
The meeting itself flew by; powered by the camaraderie that weˆ‚d manufactured over juice and cinnamon rolls and we managed to finish every item on our agenda with over an hour to spare. Armed with this kind of time and such warmth having developed amongst us all, most of us headed over to the bookstore to replenish our dwindling supplies of Carleton gear. With Nena in the cities with Arturo, I had nothing better to do than head over to Sayles with my new old friends, so I did. Yup, some things never change.
The experience of wandering the Carleton bookstore proved to us how much had really changed around there. Yes, they had all the standard-issue grey and blue Carleton tees that had once been a staple of all our wardrobes. But added into the mix were a variety of pastels and hot pinks that had not been around in our day. Standing there, I was struck by how out at home these exact same items would have been in the KU book store, but here in the basement confines of the Carleton version they were at best oddly foreign.
I have to admit that I am, on some level, part of the problem. Yes, I bought something at the book store- I dropped $14 on my first Carleton hat since 1997. And, well, itˆ‚s a trucker cap. Normally, I hate these things unless thereˆ‚s a brilliant irony to them and this one definitely lacked it but it called to me all the same. Later that night, Cody, who shares my feelings on these caps, would pick on me for my purchase telling me that Iˆ‚d lost a few cool points. However, I maintain that whatever points I lost in the purchase I more than make up for being a 250+ lb. guy with a low profile trucker cap.
Yes, there will be pictures later.
As folks slowly started to trickle out of the bookstore I began to think of the experience of the day. Here were individuals who hadnˆ‚t been particularly close to me all those years ago, and yet here we were, reveling in a strange sort of camaraderie. These were my comrades, though I never would have called most of them this a few years ago. In my ponderings I began to realize that what bound us was a shared space, a shared time in our lives that might not have been lived together in any sort of literal sense, but rather a figurative one that might be more important than the literal one. Weˆ‚ve been gone so long, that weˆ‚re overjoyed to encounter anyone who has shared such an important space with us- regardless of how close we were at the time, weˆ‚re friends in the present thanks to the virtue of having shared space in the past.
By the time I was done with my introspection most of my classmates had left the bookstore, to go to their hotel rooms to freshen up before reconvening for dinner later that night. Still being confined to campus, I decided to plug Artoo into my ears and wander campus with a soundtrack for a while. The first song to come out was Aniˆ‚s ˆ¨Little Plastic CastleˆÆ and it was then that I knew the universe had a bizarre sense of humor.
This song, which was providing a soundtrack to this rediscovery of a home space, had been the soundtrack to the spring and summer of my Freshman year there. In that post J world, I was just so lost. I spent most of my time at the Center with Freesia, trying to find myself by losing myself. Now, here I was- seven years later- wandering this familiar world with a familiar song helped bring the differences into such sharp relief, that I found myself missing my Freesia terribly. Her absence pointing out the difference between present and past, reminding me that as closely as this world resembled the one I once called home. It really wasnˆ‚t. Not anymore.
I wandered campus and Artoo led me around by my ears, showing me a place I'd come to know so well with new eyes. This wasn't my place anymore, I've known that for years. But now ... I could feel comfort in the air that I hadn't felt in forever. Next thing I knew, I was in Arena watching the tech for the Players' show. I tried to stay in the shadows, lest I turn into a starfucker.
Thing is, I was a 270lb stranger with a trucker cap hanging out in the wing so it was only a matter of time before the AD pointed me out to Ruth. Classic Carleton. Folks noticed me, but no one dared ask me who I was or what I was doing there. Instead, they gossiped and asked others until someone knew enough about me. Thankfully, that person was Ruth.
As soon as she saw my silhouette in the wings she glowed a ˆ¨helloˆÆ and a ˆ¨get the hell over hereˆÆ to me without disturbing the performance on stage. There I was, in Arena again, sitting at the right hand of the Ruth almighty just as I had six years ago to the date. I sat there watching the tech for this latest Playersˆ‚ show and I smiled. I could remember a time when everything that happened within these walls was so vitally important to me. It seemed as though my world, my life depended on what was said and done here. And nowˆñIˆ‚ve found a new truth to cling to. All the same, though, it was still really nice to be there.
As the tech wrapped up Nena called me to try and figure out where I was. Figuring itˆ‚d be rude to talk on a cell phone during tech I quietly txtˆ‚d her my location and told her to come on in. A few minutes later I felt a familiar hand on my neck that seemed comfortably out of place there in the Arena. I couldnˆ‚t believe it. I was sitting in Arena between Ruth and my wife. Lifeˆ‚d changed tremendously and yeah, itˆ‚s totally better than itˆ‚s ever been.
After our dinner on the college at Chipati a group of us decided to head downstairs to the Cow and drink the night away. After a few phone calls more people came down to join us and within an hour Cody, JdoubleL, Tilly, DJ, The Grandmastah and Nicepersonality joined us in our back corner. As time ticked by I began to remember how much I miss hanging out with Grandmastah and Nicepersonality. We spent the night talking about those things you talk to guy friends about. We talked about all the random shit you talk to you guy friends about. About the Dominion War on DS9, bands you should listen to and video games ˆñ It was a totally amazing conversation, a totally amazing time with some of the amazing people I've been fortunate enough to call my friends over time.
I had such a great time at the Cow that night that I found myself drunk at various points during the night. I donˆ‚t normally drink much these days as a general rule, but I felt great that night and drinking seemed to fit- so I did. Dear LAWD did I have a great time. Whiskey Soluble was playing the Cow that night and they made a great background to the whole evening. Just brilliant, yo. We had such a great time that Nena forgot to bug me to head up to Midwinter Ball.
When we realized, on the drive up, that we were going to be in town for the ball, she started to ask me if I wanted to go. For the first time, she wanted to go to Midwinter Ball with me, and all I could do was rain on her parade. I know, I was declining to go to Midwinter Ball but for the first time, it seemed like a memory that was best left in the past. That night, it seemed as if downtown was the place where I belonged- not up on the hill.
One by one folks left the Cow until all that remained were Nena's friends. The four of us closed the Cow down and Nena and I headed back to the manger to grab a few hours of sleep before we headed home bright and early later that morning.