I have been trying to get a post out for days now. The words just don't want to go from my brain to my fingers to you. I have lots to say, just no energy to put forth the effort. I wanted to share the family reunion with you, and I will do so soon.
When my dear blogging friend, Diane, and others were talking on Facebook this week about leaving their kids at college, far away from home, I naturally went in my mind to my first week-end at Bethany Nazarene College, (now Southern Nazarene University) in Oklahoma.
My home was in Omaha, Nebraska, which was 700 miles from Bethany, Oklahoma. I had been counting the days for two years, ever since I had visited the campus as a junior in high school. I wrote about the process of getting to college in this post.
But the Facebook posts about taking kids to school and leaving them there brought these memories flashing forward. I was the first chick to leave the nest, the eldest of five. The long trip south was the first time I'd been alone with my parents since I was 11 months and two weeks old and my sister was born. I don't actually remember much about the trip itself, nor do I remember the specifics of what we did all week-end. I do remember lugging all my belongings up to the third floor of a very old, very hot,, un-air-conditioned dorm. This was before the days when the college or university had special programs for parents to help them with the adjustment process of leaving their children on their own.
Getting settled in the room, meeting my roommate, "bath mates" (terrible term for the girls who shared the bathroom between our two rooms), and the girls down the hall was fun. I'll never forget the cute little three-year-old boy who came into my room and began chatting with me. He was from Texas and with his cute little drawl he told me that his big sissie was moving in down the hall. She came down looking for him, we struck up our first conversation, and went on to become fast friends - which included double and triple dating that freshman year. I recently connected with Vivian on Facebook, and would love to see her again someday.
I remember going to church with my folks that Sunday morning - the church seemed so huge at that time. In the afternoon, it was time for my parents to head back home. We'd had lunch and we were up on my floor, where I was networking like crazy. They were getting ready to go down to the car and I was saying "so long!" Suddenly I realized that I should probably walk down to the car with them. I had been completely unaware, clueless, and insensitive to their feelings about leaving their firstborn behind and heading north. I was having such a great time beginning the fulfillment of my dream of getting there that I was shocked to find my mom crying.
I had very few moments of homesickness during those 4 years - which is not to say that I didn't love "home" or my parents. I just think that when you're doing what you're supposed to be doing, that's the way it should be. I looked forward to letters - the written kind that appeared in my mailbox in the Student Union. Over the next two years, my brother and sister became students there, too, so the trips to and from school became more complicated. We shared a mailbox - whoever got there first read the letter, initialed the envelope, and put it back for the next one. We had very very few phone calls over the years, because that cost way too much. The only moment of aching homesickness I remember feeling my freshman year was on my birthday - I was only 17 when I started college, and turned 18 less than a month later. It was Homecoming back in my high school that same night, so I was kind of missing that for a few brief moments.
Well, that was a fun trip down memory lane - I hope you enjoyed coming along with me.
But the Facebook posts about taking kids to school and leaving them there brought these memories flashing forward. I was the first chick to leave the nest, the eldest of five. The long trip south was the first time I'd been alone with my parents since I was 11 months and two weeks old and my sister was born. I don't actually remember much about the trip itself, nor do I remember the specifics of what we did all week-end. I do remember lugging all my belongings up to the third floor of a very old, very hot,, un-air-conditioned dorm. This was before the days when the college or university had special programs for parents to help them with the adjustment process of leaving their children on their own.
One of my favorite spots on campus - taken in 1964 during the first visit. The flame is always burning. The flowers are beautiful around the torch. But the main reason I love it is the graduation tradition. All the graduates gather in a circle around the area, which is (or was at that time) the center of the campus. Everyone holds a portion of the ivy ring. The president of the university then cuts the ties to the university and sends the graduates out - except for married couples who are graduating. Then he leaves theirs intact between the two of them, cutting on either side of them as a couple.
Getting settled in the room, meeting my roommate, "bath mates" (terrible term for the girls who shared the bathroom between our two rooms), and the girls down the hall was fun. I'll never forget the cute little three-year-old boy who came into my room and began chatting with me. He was from Texas and with his cute little drawl he told me that his big sissie was moving in down the hall. She came down looking for him, we struck up our first conversation, and went on to become fast friends - which included double and triple dating that freshman year. I recently connected with Vivian on Facebook, and would love to see her again someday.
I remember going to church with my folks that Sunday morning - the church seemed so huge at that time. In the afternoon, it was time for my parents to head back home. We'd had lunch and we were up on my floor, where I was networking like crazy. They were getting ready to go down to the car and I was saying "so long!" Suddenly I realized that I should probably walk down to the car with them. I had been completely unaware, clueless, and insensitive to their feelings about leaving their firstborn behind and heading north. I was having such a great time beginning the fulfillment of my dream of getting there that I was shocked to find my mom crying.
I had very few moments of homesickness during those 4 years - which is not to say that I didn't love "home" or my parents. I just think that when you're doing what you're supposed to be doing, that's the way it should be. I looked forward to letters - the written kind that appeared in my mailbox in the Student Union. Over the next two years, my brother and sister became students there, too, so the trips to and from school became more complicated. We shared a mailbox - whoever got there first read the letter, initialed the envelope, and put it back for the next one. We had very very few phone calls over the years, because that cost way too much. The only moment of aching homesickness I remember feeling my freshman year was on my birthday - I was only 17 when I started college, and turned 18 less than a month later. It was Homecoming back in my high school that same night, so I was kind of missing that for a few brief moments.
Well, that was a fun trip down memory lane - I hope you enjoyed coming along with me.
