revisiting samford

If ever I was to describe myself, "nostalgic" would land somewhere in my list of Top Five adjectives.  While I don't desire a real return to any one time or place, I do enjoy reminiscing, and savoring the seasons past.

Twice in the past couple of weeks, although highly uncharacteristic, I've found myself back on the campus of my alma mater for various events.  It's good to revisit a place where the memories are kind to my wistful heart.

I had coffee in the student union this morning, just across the aisle from the same tables where my friends and I would sit back in the day, talking and laughing for hours and hours into the night. Although I'd only known those people for a few months, or maybe a year, it was like I'd known them for an eternity.  That crazy, unexplainable connection is learned only in experience, and I'm grateful I learned it sitting in those tables, with those friends.

The mail room hasn't changed, and my old P.O. box is still numbered by the same label, yellowed and stained by the passing of a decade.  That's where I learned that a hand-written note can make a person feel like a million bucks, and how a care package from Mom always, always made me miss home.

Vail Hall, the freshman girls' dorm, still looks big.  My room was in the corner of the east wing, on the ground level.  According to Dad, its crowning glory was its easy access to the parking lot from where we were unloading the van on Freshman Move-in Day.  He will tell you that moving his only daughter was never physically easier than it was that day.

I noted this morning that the blinds in my old space were bent or cracked in places, but I remember feeling so lucky to have those two windows in "The Corner Pocket," as we were known by our closest friends.  I wonder if I'd feel so lucky today, sharing a 15 x 15 room with a stranger.

University campuses have always held for me a curious intrigue.  When I was growing up in Athens, Georgia, the University's campus was where friends reunited, and gathered for a common cause (beating the football opponent usually, but a shared goal nonetheless).

It held traditions and history and stately architecture.

As it turns out, I still am fasincated by campuses today.  Maybe it stems from my childhood memories of making mud pies under the bleachers at Foley Field, or visiting the Baptist Student Union with my parents and their friends on Homecoming weekend.

Or maybe it's just because my college experience happens to be a treasure I cherish.

But probably, it's because universities represent such a significant rite of passage for young people.

Universities are the alchemists who mix the naive with the rebellious; the confident with the struggling; the creative with the athletic; the leaders with the followers.

They give them all opportunities, challenges, and guidance, and provide a safe environment to make choices for themselves.

And ultimately, they tell the stories of thousands of people who, if they took seriously the privilege of being there, left their campus a little bit more well-rounded; a little bit wiser; and a little bit more grown up.