…was strange, wasn’t it? In this part of Michgan it was anyway.
I don’t think it got warmer than 68 degrees and that didn’t last long. Plus the skies kept toggling from partly cloudy to gray and overcast. It rained off and on. It was cool and breezy and didn’t seem at all like early August in Southeast Michigan weather, which always makes me think of stifling heat and humidity that makes it seem as if you breathing through a wet wool blanket. I got that description from a Lorent D. Estleman book, one of his Amos Walker PI novels.
The weather yesterday made it seem more like the first weeks of the new school year in September. That’s what the cool breezes wafting through the screen door made me think of anyway. And for me that meant Ypsilanti where I attended undegrad at Eastern Michigan University and Kalamazoo where I attended grad school at Western Michigan University. And to a lesser degree Ann Arbor, which is of course right down the road from Ypsilanti.
I always really liked that time of year, especially when I was in college. Classes had just started so there wasn’t that much work that you had to do yet. Even if you were already slacking off you couldn’t be that far behind. Besides, you knew that winter was coming up soon and with it a lot of time to catch up. Until then you just wanted to get outside, out on campus, into town or whatever.
At Eastern we’d hang out on the front steps of Jones Hall, the sister dorm to Goddard Hall. Together they formed the Community of Scholars, housing mostly the University Honor’s Program. Jones was an older dorm buidling, which meant instead of one big room we had two seperate rooms, a bedroom and a study room.
Sometimes there would be impromptu touch football games on the front lawn of Jones Hall. Or people would toss around a Frisbee or something like that. At the end of the school year, when it got hot, the front lawn of the dorm would turn into a kind of beach, people laying out, soaking up the sun. It was pretty cool.
The Jones-Goddard complex also had a courtyard. It was lined with bushes and there were a few larger trees. There was also a sand volleyball court. Sometimes people would linger in the courtyard until after dark and even late into the night. You could hear them talking, even the slightest of whispers through your dorm room window. Occassionally, couples had sex out there. You could hear that too.
At night, I liked to wander around campus, sometimes alone, sometimes with a group of people, sometime with a girl. I liked to sit up behind the library and smoke cigarettes and watch people stumble back from the bars on Cross Street late at night. You could do that even in the middle of winter because the big grates behind the library would blow warm air.
I have no idea why I am babbling about this, except that I am susceptible to nostalgic reminiscing, for good or ill. Something as simple as the weather can set me off. Often it is a smell.
I do wonder if my dauther will enjoy the same kind of college experience. I hope she does. She says that she doesn’t want to go away to college, that she wants to live with Mom and Dad forever. Of course, she is only 7 years old. I’m sure by time she hits, oh, say, 12 or 13, that will change. I hope it does anyway. I don’t want her to miss out on things like going away to college, living in a dorm, meeting new people and making new friends.
Perhaps I am just tired of spewing about the election. I don’t know.