A College Collage of Memories

It was an idea hatched on Facebook when I posted a picture of a young Portland boy wearing a t-shirt from my college. It's not a particularly well-known college and it definitely isn't local, so it was a surprise to see the shirt. I made sure the two college friends I still keep in touch with saw the photo. A comment thread lead to an email conversation lead to airline tickets lead to a weekend full of surreal moments and confirmation that sometimes times marches on and sometimes it stands still.

We called it an Unofficial Mini College Reunion. Unofficial and Mini because there were only three of us and the Alumni Association bli$$fully didn't know we were coming. Zeke flew from Seattle, I flew from Portland, and Holly drove from Oakland. Zeke and I have stayed in touch and are grateful we get to see each other rather frequently now. I hadn't seen Holly since we were wearing bright blue gowns and mortar boards almost 23 years ago. She looked exactly the same. She didn't seem to have any problem recognizing me either.

The three of us went to school in a beach town south of San Francisco. The campus is up on a hill, buildings tucked in amongst redwood trees and banana slugs. There are sweeping views of trees and the ocean. It is a truly breathtaking setting, one that I wish I had appreciated more when I lived there.

We spent the weekend driving by places we used to live and work, eating at restaurants we used to love, walking around a downtown that seems to have finally bounced back from a devastating earthquake that hit while we were students. We also spent several strange yet familiar hours walking around campus and browsing the new-to-us bookstore for commemorative sweatshirts and mascot paraphernalia.

Zeke and I visited the house we shared with a revolving door of people he remarkably remembers the names of. We marveled at the tall palm trees that were non-existent when we lived there and commended the addition of a bush that now hides a prominent and easily peered-into window. We concluded the stucco bungalow must no longer be a student rental since it had potted plants on the porch. I nearly gave Zeke a coronary when I knocked on the door with the hope that we could chat with the current residents. He was visibly relieved when all we met was the yappy voice of an annoyed dog inside.

We stopped in at the pizza joint I worked at for several years. It is still a pizza place but now has a new name with new owners. I stood there under the pizza pans while vivid memories flashed through my mind like a View Master disc. I stared into the kitchen at the "pie line" where I spent so many of my Friday and Saturday nights. Although the decor had changed a bit, the layout hadn't. My gawking caught the attention of one of the current employees. I explained why I was there. He allowed me to take pictures and graciously asked me how things had changed. What a nice young man.

We walked into the pizza place Zeke worked at. It is now a very lonely Chinese restaurant. As much as I crave good Chinese food, I was not tempted.

We went out to dinner at an Indian restaurant that was off limits when we were in college. It was far too fancy and expensive, with dim lighting and white table cloths. It was a restaurant students only went to when their parents were in town with their wallets. We were excited to finally be able to afford the place and were disappointed to discover the restaurant has changed locations and formats. Although the food is still Indian, it is served with the all the ambiance of a burrito joint. And it is a CASH ONLY place, meaning it is now priced to be very affordable. Bummer!

The food was excellent, though, and the restaurant is now attached to a theater. We watched as people filled in the lobby, waiting in line for a show, wearing a very interesting assortment of outfits. Tight dresses, long gloves, bared abs, glittered ponytails (on two men), corsets. A Smartphone search revealed that the event was "...both a titillating performance arts show, as well as a safe space for exploration, education, and self expression of sexuality and relationship -- by combining personal development with creative expression." Oy. We decided it was time to go get some coffee at a favorite old haunt.

The cafe looked almost exactly like it did in the late '80s. It was still a large house with different colored rooms and indie college rock piped in. The guy working the counter was still way cooler than us, as were many of the patrons. It was here where I first learned to drink coffee and where I first learned you could add chocolate to it.

We waited in line behind a family with two small kids who wanted hot chocolate. Kids?! Who let the kids in? There were never any kids back in the '80s. Good grief. And that wasn't the only change. The place was now so dang quiet. Nobody was straining to talk over the music and the other conversations. Instead, everyone was on a piece of electronica -- Smartphones, laptops, iPods. Very few people were interacting with the real world around them. Most people were instead sitting by themselves. A few people were smiling...at their screens. The cafe mocha was still fantastic...and it occurred to Zeke that the coffee at this place may have years ago set the standard by which he now judges all coffees...but the experience of being in the cafe was a bit sad. It used to be such a social outing. Now it is like an old fashioned library -- you know, when you were supposed to be quiet -- with coffee drinks and homemade whipped cream.

The highlight of the reunion was going up to campus. We spent several hours taking in all that had changed and many things that looked like they had simply aged over 23 years without much maintenance. We were those old people we used to snicker at as they drove on the wrong roads to find elusive parking. We walked slowly and took photos, feeling conspicuous but then realizing we are at an age where we are largely invisible to those so much younger. We disappointingly looked more like the few parents we saw instead of the students who were touring them. Before arriving, I had completely ridiculous ideations that we might blend in a bit. Big sigh.

We broke down cobwebs in our memories to find our way through the forest to noteworthy buildings and dorms. I stared in awe at the scenery -- the redwood trees, the green grass, the bright blue sky, the sparkling ocean -- wondering if it had always been so striking and kicking my 20 year old self for not appreciating it more. I breathed in the instantly familiar scent of eucalyptus mixed with redwood and oak tree. It completed the transport to my past. "It smells like college."

We got to our dorms and were mystified why we were the only three people outside on the beautiful day. Every last curtain was drawn and window was closed. Why so much studying on a beautiful California Saturday? As we walked around and reminisced, it was in whispers. As the official photographer of the reunion, I insisted Zeke pose next to the door of his old apartment. He almost had a second coronary when we heard voices on the other side. Sadly...for me...nobody appeared.

We knew we were "back home" when we wandered into another part of campus, long known as the particularly hippie area. I was thirsty and wanted to get a bottle of water. We remembered there was a store in the area so when we found it, we walked towards it with determination and paid little attention to the small gathering of students outside. As we approached, a young girl with fluffy hair and flowy clothes stopped us from going in, explaining that the co-op was having a meeting. We explained we just wanted to get a drink. "Do you have cash?" "Yes." "Come on in, then."

I browsed the small store, struck by how much it reminded me of the first time I browsed Trader Joe's and wondered where the "real" brands and "real" food were. All sorts of organic, vegan, tofu-y stuff here at the co-op. Even the drinks were unfamiliar -- odd fruits squeezed into juices with odder herbs and spices. I decided I would find something to drink elsewhere. As we left, I asked the fluffy girl where I might find a bottle of water.

"I don't think there is any place on campus that sells...bottled water." She almost choked on the last two words, they representing such ecologically wasteful consumerism. "But, you could, you know..." digging around in the recycling bin, "...fill up one of these with water from a fountain or hose or something." I declined as politely as I could without breaking into incredulous laughter. We saved that until we were well out of earshot. I later found some water in a brand new bottle at the bookstore.

During the rest of the reunion, we tried unsuccessfully to get today's reality to match yesterday's memories. The ice cream place we loved is gone. A new place was very good but the flavors were of the exotic, creative, handcrafted variety that is so trendy now.

We went to a favorite cafe for dinner, now in a new location following a fire years ago. What had once been space agey and funky was now 50's themed and retro-hip. The menu seemed so mainstream now, too, featuring burgers instead of bean sprouts. But, well, a burger sounded good so I went for it, deciding I needed to embrace that my hippie cafe was now a hipster cafe.

Imagine my chagrin when my hipster burger arrived and I discovered it was actually a veggie burger. In fact, I had somehow missed the fact that the entire menu was vegetarian and gluten-free. That explained the awful-tasting whole "wheat" bun and the traces of corn it housed from my "burger." The cafe was still hippie! Yay! And, judging from how my gastrointestinal system responded later, I am very decidedly not. Boo! My new mantra: Bring on the gluten!

As a last hurrah, Zeke, Holly, and I decided we wanted to "go out." You know, to a club or bar or something. We debated some old favorites including the loud place where we discovered the wonders of Bailey's mixed with Butterscotch Schnapps, or the gay bar outside of town that provided some rather memorable stories. Instead, we decided to go to a nice bar, an adult bar, the bar that I took Zeke to on his 21st birthday to celebrate his legality and documented maturity. We had gotten dressed up that night and felt like bona fide adults, sipping our drinks without any quarters in sight. So off to the Crow's Nest we went.

Our first clue should have been the loud, blonde, wrinkled, indignant woman in her 50s that was being thrown out as we entered. She was still exuberantly in the parking lot 45 minutes later.

There was a live band that was loudly playing crowd favorites from the '60s and '70s. The lead singer was trying to channel Mick Jagger complete with an opened shirt. Ewww. The crowd was mostly creepy old surfer dudes with beer bellies and roaming eyes, and women in their 50s and 60s swaying their hips around and exposing their armpits as a means of procuring free drinks.

The three of us stayed closely huddled, sipping our wine and beer, wondering if the place had always been something of a dive but we had been too poor to notice. However, we did note that we were by far the youngest in the room which was a nice counter-balance to how ancient we had felt on campus.

We said our good-byes at the hotel and at the airport, vowing to keep in touch and expressing thanks for a mind-blowing weekend. And me silently thanking that little boy in the t-shirt who unknowingly inspired a reunion.

So there it is, the synopsis of a weekend spent with old friends peeking into the past and comparing it to the present. While at times I felt old and at others I felt young, I think I mostly felt grateful for the reality of being at this point in life. A point where I have walked the planet long enough to reminisce and wonder how and why I used to drive so fast over a curvy mountain road, yet short enough to look at the old people in the Crow's Nest dancing and flirting and carrying on and smile that life really is a work in progress without an attainable finish line. Yay life!