Back to the Future

Whoever said high school is the best time of your life never went to college. :) I loved college. I've said more than once that I'd go back in a heartbeat. SO many memories of E-town!

Mondays meant 10 cent wings at Noah's.
Thursday was 50 cent tacos at Babe's, and of course, Karaoke.
After singing like a rock star, you could go next door to Lewis and Clark's/Buckets/The Outback. . . Luckily its popularity didn't change like the name. It was always THE place to go.
Then at 2 am, nothing was better than going next door again--Pyramid Pizza. It was even good during daylight hours when you were fully-functioning. :) That braided crust dipped in honey. . . Yes, honey. . .
Godfather's Pizza offered free buffets if you could sink the Nerf ball in the hoop hanging behind the register.
Bruff's had amazing pin tacos and a fun dance floor upstairs.
Turtles had big schooners and shuffleboard tables.
My first date with R was at Coach's. I can still see exactly where we sat and the long sleeves he wore on the last day of April to hide poison ivy. :)
If you could stand the smell of IBP (Iowa Beef Processors) across the highway, Carlos O'Kelly's was the place to go for margaritas and (FREE) baskets of chips and salsa. . . Who needs to order a meal?
The Dugout had cheap pitchers. . . And they didn't really mind if you weren't 21. . . Oops.
Lugens had a big outdoor "beer garden"--seriously cool.
I waited tables at McGillicutty's and learned you shouldn't date a co-worker because it's not fun to work with your ex-boyfriend. . .
At Johnny's, you could have your own mug on the wall (Hubby's self-proclaimed label read "Captain.")

It's really no surprise that the "Freshman 15" exists. . . I'm more shocked that it's not the Freshman 50. Is it sad that so many fun times involved food and. . . beverages?

Last weekend was bittersweet for me. E-Town obviously holds a special place in my life for numerous reasons. It's where I met some of my closest friends. It's where my dream to teach became a reality. It's where I first realized my love for libraries. It's where I met the man I would later marry. Not to mention all the fun! :) It was great to re-live our college memories, but it was also sad to visit our old stomping grounds.

Sitting at the stadium and "people-watching," I realized that it's no longer "OUR" college. This year's freshman are half--HALF--our age. They have no clue who we are--nor do they care. Noah's, Babe's, Lewis and Clark's/Buckets/The Outback, Pyramid Pizza, Godfather's, Turtles, Carlos O'Kelly's, The Dugout, Lugen's and Johnny's. . . . all GONE.

Bruff's and Coach's have both moved to different buildings--which just isn't the same. We tried to re-create our first date last Saturday (minus the poison ivy) but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were in a Mexican restaurant; it wasn't the Coach's I remember. McGillicutty's ironically enough is now La Hacienda. Driving around, I got more and more depressed and finally blurted out, "Why can't it just be 1997 again?!"

And then it hit me. Thank goodness it's not. If it were, I'd still be a 21 year old college girl, not the person I've grown to be. I wouldn't have my babies. I wouldn't have my husband. I wouldn't have THIS life.

E-town is still an awesome college town. And the kids there probably can't imagine life without Natasha's (new bar on Commercial) or Wheat State Pizza (in Godfather's old building--I have to admit it was awesome. Even without the Nerf ball.) They'll have a different set of memories to take with them in four short years.

And at the end of the weekend, I took my own memories with me. No, E-town isn't what it used to be, but neither am I. Luckily though, some things never change. I still got to drive a cute boy home. And this time I didn't just drop him off at the door.

Divine Introduction

I don't know why I'm surprised when a homily at church applies to me--He knows the words I need to hear long before I do. Last Sunday, our priest talked about marriage and how married people are called to fulfill our "assignment." After we say "I do," we need to spend the rest of our lives "getting married." Not just that day. Long after the cake has been cut and the dance is over, we should spend the rest of our lives getting married to each other. (LOVE that!) He then asked: "How did you meet?" which is always a fun, nostalgic trip back in time. And it was VERY fitting because we got to spend this weekend in the college town where we met fifteen years ago.

Since graduating in 1998, I think we've been back to Homecoming once. We usually get the flyer and it goes directly to the trash since it's a four hour drive. Something made me open it this year. And I immediately saw that Doc was retiring. Doc was my husband's mentor in college. R worked as an athletic trainer under Doc for the men's basketball and football teams. After forty six years, Doc finally retired. I knew we had to go. So we left the kids at my parents' and headed out to ESU.

I went to a community college for two years before transferring to ESU. R was in my VERY first class at ESU--which I would have already taken had it been offered at AC. I remember seeing him, but I was dating someone at the time (and so was he.) Then I kept seeing him every Sunday at the Catholic campus center which really impressed me. What kind of guy goes to mass every Sunday when he's away from home? I remember thinking he just looked like a good guy. Flash forward to the next semester. We were both single and I literally ran into him at a club. My two roommates at the time were on the track team and they spent the next few weeks hounding the blonde haired guy in the training room to call me. They came home one night to tell me it was his 21st birthday and he had said that I should come out. Well everyone I knew was either 1) back home for the weekend or 2) staying in because of a track meet the next day. This gal went out to the clubs ALONE just to see R. And then sat at the bar all night and talked to him. (He was taking it easy after living it up the night before when midnight rolled around. ha!) I even made up some lame excuse about my "friends" finding other ways home just so I could give R a lift. He invited me to his birthday party later that weekend, and then an official first date the next week. And here we are.

Last Sunday, Father said that the more important question was not HOW we met, but WHY. WHY did we meet? Why did God bring us together? Looking back, there were so many "coincidences" that had to be God. I should have already had that general ed Developmental Psychology class. I wasn't even supposed to be living with the track girls, but my previous roommate moved in with her boyfriend and I needed a new place to live. (Ironically, my old place was right BEHIND R's complex... ) Why were R and I at the exact same place at the exact same time? Where we just "happened" to bump into each other (and I got to use my oh-so-smooth pick up line: "Hey, weren't you in my Developmental Psych class?) :) I didn't know it at the time, but God was working things the way He always does. Quietly, purposefully, perfectly.

With each passing year, I'm realizing more and more what a gift he is and I'm SO grateful for the chain of events that brought us together. I'm blessed.

I get to spend the rest of my life getting married to that blonde headed trainer from ESU.

Bookworms

I love words. I'm the girl who would sit and read the cereal boxes at breakfast time, got in trouble for bringing a book to the dinner table, and followed along with the readings at mass before I knew what the words said. (I was destined to be a writer . . . or a nun. . . ) To this day, I almost obsessively compulsively consume EVERY word I see. I really thought everyone's brains worked this way until I met my husband who is neither literate nor observant. He doesn't notice any signs, billboards, license plates, announcements, etc. Meanwhile, the letters are flying at me, a mile a minute while I try to process EVERYTHING. (It does sound more than a bit strange now that I, ironically, write it out. . .)

I decided in sixth grade to be a writer. Mr. Brown wrote in my graduation card that he'd never seen talent like mine from another sixth grader. Maybe he wrote it in everyone's cards, but I still have it somewhere--never underestimate the power of a teacher's words! Of course, right before college I got scared that writing wouldn't pay the bills so I did the next best thing--I spent nine years teaching eighth graders HOW to write. I hope someone somewhere is keeping a note that I've forgotten I wrote. I LOVED teaching, but when it came time to consider a master's, I wondered if I should consider another option--just in case. It didn't take long to figure out my other love. In college I realized that while waiting tables WAS paying the bills, it probably wasn't doing much for my resume. So I worked at a public library. WOW. It was an obsessive-compulsive-word-consumer's dream! So here I am, now in my fifth year as a school librarian. In many ways, it's a lot like teaching. Little pay, lots of work, not much glory or glamour. But then a kid comes in and tells me the book I recommended was "UHHH-MAZING!" or kids are fighting to get to the coveted shelves of state award nominees or another kid who has moved on to the high school tells me he misses MY library. And I think: How is it that I'm getting PAID to do what I love?

And I'm proud to report that my love of words lives on in my girls. Forgive me for a moment because I'm going to be one of those moms. Sassy just started first grade and she's devouring Magic Treehouse books. She really took off this summer and I would catch her reading nonstop. It's been so fun to see her beg for bedtime so she can read “one more chapter.” She's read 17 books so far at school this year—and most are nonfiction that are right at a 4th grade reading level. I love the notes that her teacher writes across the reports: “Holy canoli!” “You've got to be kidding me!” “What? Saaaweeeet!” Several are on the fridge—again, the power of a teacher's words!

And Keke goes to bed each night with a huge stack which is great until I remember the morning of that our library books are due and I've got a flashlight and an arm shoved down between her bed and the wall looking for missing books. I'm almost certain that we returned one of those books with some birthday money left in it, but that's a different story. . . . At night after I've tucked them in, I hear Sassy reading her book out loud and Keke “reading” hers to all the toys in her bed.

I keep saying that “someday” I'll write that book I've always wanted to write. But for now it's pretty cool to share my love of books during the day with middle school kids. . . . and even better to share it with the two little people waiting each night on my couch.