This is being back on campus: The other day, on my way to my office from my first class, I passed a guy playing a guitar and a harmonica, just standing there with his back toward the pond and the clocktower, facing the waves of students going to and from class. On my way out of my last class that same day, I passed a group of students, maybe six of them, singing while one of them played a ukulele.
That night, I dreamed that Jesse and I were students again, first years (but married), and we had a great dorm room in a really fancy dorm on a really fancy campus (hey, it was a dream), and after we unpacked our things we left the room and met up with some friends and had no plans other than exploring campus.
Three of my nieces are starting college for the first time this year. On Facebook, they post pictures of their dorm rooms, and their status updates are all about early morning classes and meeting new friends and going home for the weekend.
Sometimes I ache for that. And I’ve been wondering, why?
The question has been bouncing around my brain for a week or so, and I think I’ve stumbled upon an answer. It goes something like this: The day I moved out of my parents’ house and into my first apartment, a wave of homesickness I wasn’t prepared for hit me as I sat alone in my new room. And then Scott and Jesse and I went out to dinner at some Tex-Mex place, and I felt better, was reminded of the excitement, was reminded I wasn’t alone. In the weeks afterward we’d meet up for lunch on campus or we’d go to Taco Bell at 2:00 in the morning, just because we could.
For the last two years of school, Jesse and I lived in apartments across the street from one another. After class, I’d grab a book and head over to their place and just hang out. Maybe the boys would play a video game, or maybe we’d talk about politics or philosophy or homework, or maybe we’d all just sit and study together. My roommate Marianne and I would sit in our living room and study for finals together. And even though we didn’t study the same thing, it was enough to be in the same room, eating bowls of cherries. And when it wasn’t finals week, we’d cook dinner together, we’d look at recipes, we’d watch Food Network back when Rachael Ray still just had one show, and we’d work puzzles with Samie, and we’d carve pumpkins and make gingerbread houses.
Our lives were lived in concert, and we had a rhythm, the semester-long ups and downs, the midterms and finals. We shared a campus; we went to the same movies, the same football games, the same restaurants.
Even though I think the community we have now is considerably closer than many others get to enjoy once past the college experience, it’s still a post-grad community of married people who own their own houses. We don’t hang out anymore. Getting together with friends involves cooking dinner or going out to dinner, going to a movie (a half-hour drive away), going to the beach, etc. It’s a production. It’s scheduled, often a week or more in advance. Outside of small group, we rarely see the same people on even a weekly basis, and some of our friends we might see once a month.
I never needed an invitation to Jesse and Scott’s apartment. I just needed to know if they were back from class yet or not. And vice versa. It was expected, it was natural.
So, while I very much enjoy being back on a college campus—the impromptu music and the library and all the opportunities that come along with academia—I do still miss being an undergrad, miss the evenings when Jesse, Scott, and I sat around trying to figure out what to eat and decided to walk to Big Daddy’s for pizza, feeling like the world was ours, knowing that it was.
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Trey and I talk about this all the time. It was so easy — having all your friends (or most of them) in one place, shared schedules, shared lives. And you’re right — we don’t even see our Raleigh friends more than once a month (if that), not to mention our other friends scattered elsewhere.
I think neighborhoods used to provide more of a shared community, but they don’t anymore. I don’t know if people stay inside more now, or move more often, or have less time to spare, or what. Maybe people used to depend on each other more?
I think you’re right about neighborhoods. I grew up in one where pretty much everyone knew everyone else, and when we left on vacation our neighbors fed our cats and made us a spaghetti dinner when we got back so we wouldn’t have to worry about dinner or groceries after a long drive. My experience with our neighborhood here couldn’t be further from that. I have a feeling it’s my fault somehow, that my parents were just better at being friendly, that I’m more private or self-centered or something, but I know few people who have that neighborhood experience anymore. So, if it’s me, then at least it’s not just me.
Aw, I long for those those close and carefree moments from college every once and awhile, too. It was so nice to be walking past a friend’s house on the way home from class and just drop in to hang out or go to the grocery store with your whole group of friends. My husband and I have made some friends with another couple who live just a few houses down from us, and we’ve started getting together for spur-of-the-moment games of Settlers of Catan or impromptu dinners. It has revived and satisfied that feeling of the college life that I’ve occasionally missed. Thanks for sharing; I’m glad I’m not the only one who looks back on those days and wants a little snatch back every now and then!
Yes! Grocery shopping was rarely a solo event. Now I’m set in my shopping ways and can’t imagine shopping with a bunch of people. Ah, I’m old. I love that you’ve got friends in your neighborhood to hang out with! We have friends who moved to our neighborhood last year, but they’re pretty much the most popular couple at our church, and they’re always booked. They also have a two-year-old. So, our impromptu attempts at community have been only intermittently successful. But there’s always hope…
Oh Erin,
You deserve everything good in the world.
You’ve captured this perfectly. It is such an odd thing. I miss being an undergrad sometimes, too, but the truth is (as unstated in my last post) that those girls I went to school with hadn’t changed at all…and I had. My life involves people now that weren’t in my life during undergrad, and I value those people. This, of course, is mainly Mike. And while I will always love my undergraduate friends, they were jerks, and I think it IS because we aren’t on the same page anymore.
It’s such an odd thing to have one thing in common, and have that be enough when you’re an undergrad. But the one thing you have in common is new and special to all of you, and it becomes your life, and it holds you. It’s easy to fall into that beautiful rhythm.
Good luck this year.
That’s a really interesting take on things. I hadn’t thought of it before, but I’m sure my nostalgia for college is only intensified because Jesse was part of that experience as well. I’m glad for you and Mike.
You deserve only goodness as well.
You hit the nail on the head in recognizing the source of the “longing” that seems to arrive once college is over and life has begun. I never could pinpoint it, but you’re right. The college lifestyle created such natural opportunities to live together. There was no slogan of “let’s do life together” needed to encourage us to do what we did. And for some reason, once college is over, the idea of walking into someone’s home unannounced and unprompted is no longer considered intimate; it’s considered rude. At least, we assume other people would find it rude. And if I’m honest, outside my college environment, I would be pretty surprised to hear the front door opening while Mike and I were watching TV. Though if it turned into a regular occurrence, I would certainly welcome it again.
You know one of the flashes of my post-college life when I felt a sense of community most? Right after you guys moved into your new house, there were several weeks where we’d come over after church and eat cheese and crackers, and Amy and Nick would be there sometimes, and maybe we’d play a game, or maybe we’d just talk, but it was really nice.
We should do that again. And now that I know Mike isn’t deathly allergic to cats, perhaps we can have you guys over here too.