Nothing like a “save the date” notice for a 25th college reunion to set a gal reeling into the abyss of the past.  April 2010.  Three days of reuniting the class of 1985. I am still reeling.  I did not anticipate the shock this gentle reminder would bring. Not to begin with the beguine-but where did the time go?  That August day, 1981.

I will admit, I first landed in the mind set of:  “Well now what?”  I mean, I don’t exactly have the traditional resume of one who graduated from a private, highly competitive, liberal arts college for women.  In fact, I seem to recall a few near misses in the four years I attended and graduated from said private, highly competitive liberal arts college for women.  I will also admit, my four years of surviving ( and singing about) the virgin trees that grew ever tall on campus, helped bend and shape the person I am today.  No wait, the woman I am today.  I had some of the best forward thinking professors and mentors- each one giving me a set of tools uniquely different-each giving me permission to think outside the box.  This very small, southern prestigious college helped me create interesting ways to learn and study. So what if I was not the basic blue (blood) print.  I belonged.  I also met some of the most interesting women from all over the world. 

And then I really starting thinking…….

I remember the day I left for college.  It was a sweltering mid August day in southeastern North Carolina.   I remember what I was wearing. ( purple Izodshirt and aqua walking shorts with color coordinated  plaid fabric belt- my Bass loafers, no socks-my preppy rebel look) I remember waving good-bye to my parents ( I drove myself to college),I remember not crying until I pulled out of the driveway and then suddenly, with window down and Datsun filled to the gills, I was on I-40 bound for four years of what I was not sure, but I was determined I was going to make it. I remember how I felt when I finally arrived, hot and sweaty, my hair all frizzy and big a result of my AC going out somewhere outside of Hillsboro. I drove down the slight slope of the cobblestone hill and parked in front of my dorm. There were parents everywhere,girls everywhere, representatives from the college everywhere.  It was a flurry of conservative, very well dressed and fully prepared people.  One thing should be pointed out about this college:  It had lineage.  Mothers of mothers of mothers had previously attended and became part of the history, the frameworks and traditions.  This school was seeped in tradition.  Many girls attending this college were arriving fresh from prep school-another stop along the way to a plan laid out long ago-a plan that some of these gals were expected to follow. Virgin trees and tradition seeping all over the place. Never mind arrival, first day jitters, I had a sinking feeling I was way out of place.  My preppy rebel outfit I had chosen so carefully stuck out like a sore thumb. Don’t get me started on my hair.

 Welcome to “Sailing Away With Possibilities” the theme for all incoming freshmen.  I found my room, second floor, halfway down,the door marked with two names in color contrasting sails.  I should have known right then and there, rough waters would be approaching. I was not up on nautical terms, and could not tie knot one-other than the obvious mistake when making a bow.  The dorm “mum”, Mrs. B- a sweet lady from England knocked,introduced herself and said my “mate” would be arriving a bit later in the day-she had been delayed. I was given permission to unpack and select my bed, my side of the room and closet.  A couple of hours later I was moved in, all my things neatly put away, bed made, pictures hung on my side and my desk organized and ready.  I checked the schedule of events and had hours until the formal freshmen class meet and greet-“please dress accordingly”. I decided to walk around and check out the other sails-listing names and locations of incoming freshmen, made a few introductions and walked around campus-watching other arrivals and tearful good byes.

An hour of so later I headed back,happy with my accomplishments so far and proud of my room-already set with my eclectic collection of essentials.  No color coordinated anything for me-but more of a mish-mash of odds and ends, photos, bulletin boards still fresh with high school memories, my journals and all the other college essentials.  Back then, computers were not a requirement-we did things the old fashioned way-wrote it all down.There were no cell phones.  There was one phone- at the end of the hallway.  It was a rotary dial. Oh and did I mention, this was not a coed campus.  I sat on my bed-and waited, listening to all the other sounds in the hall.

And then-there they were. The mother-daughter duo from hell. Mother in Lily Pulitzer and pearls, tight-jawed and wiry.  Daughter in matching Lily Pulitzer with the same pissy look on her face. 

Great. 

“Hi!”, I said,  “I’m Gloria!”. They both looked horrified to see me and checked the sail on the door for clarification. Curt but polite introductions followed, with a few “who do you knows?’-which, of course, I did not.  Mother signaled for father, step father, daughter noted, to bring in the bags, daughter turned and walked out of the room.  We were off to a great start.  Color coordinated monogrammed bags were being brought in two at a time, window treatments, bedding, rugs, all Laura Ashley, very tasteful, not to froo froo.

Wait, is that a mini fridge?  And a window fan?

It all screamed old money and social registry ( which at the time, I had no idea what that meant-except it seemed to be a common theme) I excused myself saying something about checking in with my parents. Mother said nothing- she was already focused on getting the room decorated. Daughter was in the hallway excited to see some girls she knew from prep school. 

 Sounds of other roommates getting to know one another and I am stuck with Ice Queen and the pissy princess. Certainly, I would be learning something from this, right?  In no time, the dorm room was complete and we were allowed back in-the Ice Queen had completed her work-and my roommates side of the room was immaculate and detailed ( the Ice Queen was goooooooood).  In fact, if memory serves me, some of my items were moved to the side-let there be no mistake. Ice queen and her silent second husband were gone-back to the land of who you know.  I was stuck with a girl who seemed to complain about everything and clearly was not interested in learning anything about me whatsoever.  We were going to play the myside/yourside game.

Fine.

Within a month the pissyprincess had moved on to another dorm. “To be closer to the girls she went to prep school with.”  The Ice Queen sent in a formal request so her daughter could be with her own kind.  

Oh the horror the princess must have felt to have been stuck with me.  This independantartsy theater ( what are you wearing?) chick-with nothing that really matched and a penchant for the positive- this me she “just could not get”.  At one point, the princess drew up a schedule so she could rise first and be on her way-I was asked to please not sit with her at meals. The schedule was down to the minute of coming and going, study time and above all avoidance.  Please. 

 My feelings were hurt-but as luck would have it-I got to keep the room to myself- no other roommate was to be assigned.  My room stayed a single and I stayed in it for the next four years.  It became the room to gather and hang ( after studying, of course)  I found friends and for the next four years-and for years to follow we stayed in touch.

To this day I still don’t know what was so traumatic for the princess and I have no idea what became of her and the Ice Queen.  Maybe we will find out in April, 2010. Save the date.