Alma Mater

Chris found a piece of mail I’d sidelined for recycling. It was from Lafayette College, my alma mater. We don’t have the resources, time or money to play in those waters. This was from the fencing team. I was one of them, they guys with the swords and knickers. Actually, I was captain of the team. She told me this would be a good way to decompress.



So, we went back. We went back to the place that put up with my adolescent development and still managed to teach me more than I knew there was to learn. We went back to a place that has changed in a number of ways. Buildings, women (that my friends, is a monster), resources for students, and attitude. There used to be 17 fraternity houses. Most of them are now dorms or administrative buildings. And a student we talked to said that she found there was little room to experience independence. She thought it was more like a prep school.



Construction and social trends aside, it was still Lafayette. Kirby Hall still had the Marquis de Lafayette’s coat of arms carved in high relief over the door, with the family’s motto, ‘CUR NON,’ ‘Why Not.’ That has been one of the pillars of my life. Then, plodding to class I’d pass it and smile, wondering if the stogy philosophy professor that I really couldn’t stand had a clue how revolutionary the stone work on ‘his’ building was. Chris and I climbed to the library of Philosophy and Law there, it still smelled of leather and old books. The reading tables still had the lamps with the green glass shades. The bronze busts of the giants that began our outrageous experiment in democracy still watched whoever came into the place. I used to have conversations with Ben Franklin. His slight smile always brought a bit of wistful humor to my doubts and confusion.



Time warped and my present and past overlapped. But anchoring me in the now was a new glory, a love that smiled at my joy. And even more, when we went to the gym, she got excited as Lafayette beat Lehigh on the basketball court. Go Pards!



The new gym already smells like dirty sox. Maybe they pipe it in.