The brilliant and beautiful Shannon posted about her college days quite eloquently. You should read her if you don’t already everydaystranger.net She is the reason that I started reading blogs, and then later the reason I started writing one. My post about college will be far less eloquent.
My memories of college are a mashup of vignettes rather than a reasonably tidy yearbook. I suppose all of my memories are like that to some degree. Here are some that stand out:
The sophisticated “progressive drinking” party we had on th dorm hall. Every room that chose to participate set up a table in their doorway and served a different drink. I remember vodka/cranberry, screwdrivers, fuzzy navels, and my favorite of the night “Alabama Slammers.” It was the last party of the year, and we all got tee shirts and had others sign them. Two lines on mine speak volumes of that evening (and in fact, of much of my college career). “I’m signing your boob because you told me to.” “Stop kissing all the boys.” Oh well, what can I say.
Sitting in the cafeteria with my good friend Amy chatting about boys or clothes or some other nonsense and both of us shivering visibly. We commented on it and had no idea what it was about. When we returned to th dorm, we heard of the Challenger explosion. I’m not too “heebie-jeebie”ish, but I am certain that chill coincided with the explosion.
Building a “snow penis” with my roommate Julie.
Julie’s introduction to my father. I got home to a note that stated, “Big Herbie called. Who the hell is Big Herbie.”
Losing my virginity to a sweet, dear boy/man on a waterbed in his apartment.
Proposals from not one but two Naval guys in the same month. (I really think it was the timing rather than my dashing good looks and irresistible personality.)
Trading sweaters with a guy named Buck in the bar behind the Howard Johnson’s.
Having guy friends meet me after my anatomy lab to walk me home after dark…failing to tell them in advance the room I was working in had several human cadavers. The cadaver named Maude was preserved poorly and got moldy.
Spring break in Daytona…speeding ticket on the way down…funneling beer for the first time…scraping my knee running from a boy who wanted his “Goofy” hat back. I don’t know if I gave it back, but I still have the scar on my knee. Angela getting way too drunk and kicking out the window of Amy’s father’s car when we wouldn’t let her leave with some stupid boy.
Nursing instructors who gave me confidence that I could indeed be successful following my chosen path.
Taking No-Doz to stay awake to type those papers I just had to put off until the last minute. (On a real typewriter with an eraser ribbon for mistakes.)
“I Ain’t Never” and other drinking games.
UGA football games…the ringing of the chapel bell all night after a win…screaming until I was hoarse…seeing Kevin Butler attempt a 60+ yard field goal to beat Clemson with 3 seconds left on the clock…hugging strangers when it was “good.”
Making my father proud by graduating “Cum laude” in spite of all the alcohol purchased with my modest allowance.
What are the things that first pop into your head when you think of your high school or college days?