As you know, this past weekend was my college Homecoming. I earned my undergraduate degree at MacMurray College in Jacksonville, Illinois. Mac is a very small school. About 600 students were enrolled when I attended, 1989-1992. The campus is tiny; the student body and faculty are tight. Everyone knows everyone and unless you went to school there it can be hard to understand.
Our group of friends, the friends who come back year after year, the ones who now get together several other times and places a year, is made even more tight by the fact that every one of us, including the spouses, went to MacMurray. Every one of us knows that Mac Hall was a science building. Every one of us understands why people whisper behind their hands about “the tunnels.” Hell, most of us have been in the tunnels and I know for a fact that two of us wrote our names on a wall down there. Every one of us has eaten chicketti. (I can't believe I actually found a recipe for that crap.) Every one of us knows that Jeannie will stuff your purse with peanuts and matchbooks when you aren’t looking. This peculiarity makes us tighter than mere college buddies. We're family, which can be daunting for new friends who join us when we gather.
Plan-making phone calls for Homecoming commence about three weeks before the actual event. Hotel reservations have to be made, insults and barbs have to be traded; there is much to be done for our annual trip back in time. A couple weeks ago Drew called. Drew was one of my very best friends in school and despite geography and a lack of regular contact, we remain close. He wanted my opinion and advice about bringing a new gal pal to Homecoming. He wasn’t concerned that we would be mean to her but that it would be tough time and place to introduce her. As he described her I felt certain she could handle herself and told him that if she was as he said, I thought it was a great idea.
I reminded him, however, that his last non-Mac gal pal stole a Blackberry from one of us when we got together last Christmas. This group can and will forgive any indiscretion but it does not forget. Make a mistake? Then you should plan to relive it and be teased about it until the brain cell holding that memory is killed in each of us - a time in the future that is also called never.
Our group of friends, the friends who come back year after year, the ones who now get together several other times and places a year, is made even more tight by the fact that every one of us, including the spouses, went to MacMurray. Every one of us knows that Mac Hall was a science building. Every one of us understands why people whisper behind their hands about “the tunnels.” Hell, most of us have been in the tunnels and I know for a fact that two of us wrote our names on a wall down there. Every one of us has eaten chicketti. (I can't believe I actually found a recipe for that crap.) Every one of us knows that Jeannie will stuff your purse with peanuts and matchbooks when you aren’t looking. This peculiarity makes us tighter than mere college buddies. We're family, which can be daunting for new friends who join us when we gather.
Plan-making phone calls for Homecoming commence about three weeks before the actual event. Hotel reservations have to be made, insults and barbs have to be traded; there is much to be done for our annual trip back in time. A couple weeks ago Drew called. Drew was one of my very best friends in school and despite geography and a lack of regular contact, we remain close. He wanted my opinion and advice about bringing a new gal pal to Homecoming. He wasn’t concerned that we would be mean to her but that it would be tough time and place to introduce her. As he described her I felt certain she could handle herself and told him that if she was as he said, I thought it was a great idea.
I reminded him, however, that his last non-Mac gal pal stole a Blackberry from one of us when we got together last Christmas. This group can and will forgive any indiscretion but it does not forget. Make a mistake? Then you should plan to relive it and be teased about it until the brain cell holding that memory is killed in each of us - a time in the future that is also called never.
I told him to expect a razzing about cell phones. I warned him that I could see every single person in the group making an exaggerated dash for theirs when she walked into the room the first time. In the end, after assuring him that it would be fine as long as he understood what he was getting into, he said he was going to ask her.
Over dinner Friday night Jeannie and I joked that we should go to the Dollar Store and buy a bunch of plastic toy phones and leave a few in the new gal's bag. Little did we know that new gal doesn’t carry a bag; little did I know that Jeannie was serious.
The pizza seen here is my very favorite in the whole entire world, Leo's. There are times during the rest of the year that I would give my right foot for that pizza. It is legendary. We ate it twice and I wish I had some right now.
On Saturday we got up early and picked up beverages for the tailgate. Nic makes a bloody mary using clamato juice, which sounds deeeeesgusting, but is truly a work of art. It thins the blood right back down to a tolerable level.
We've tailgated in the parking lot of this grade school for several years now.
After the game - and please don't ask me who won, I was barely aware there was football game going on behind me - we headed back to Leo’s for Gluttony, Round Two, followed by a return trip to Bahan's to resume pickling ourselves. It was during this Pickling, Round Two that Jeannie stuffed my purse with the plastic phones. And a million tiny pom-poms. And sweetener packets.And then left it me to explain why to a confused Mary.
Mary passed the test when she got it and laughed. I guess she understood this was our way of telling her we liked her. We hope she brings Drew to the Christmas party.
21 comments:
I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Left to my own devices with 600 people, however, I would have been hated by 599 of them by the end of week 1.
If Drew can't make it, can he still send Mary? (Hell, am I even invited to the reindeer games this year?)
Any woman who picks Warren Zevon on the jukebox is all right in my book.
I'm off to try to help reunite a "borrowed" Bible with its rightful owner. But after 20 years, isn't it technically "stolen"?
Hmmmm, I had a customer in jacksonville. he was a big Elvis fan. Doesn't jacksonville have a big ferris wheel replica... or little, big ferris wheel replica... in a parl somewhere?
I like Jacksonville, it's like - when you're driving, the town ENDS in definite places. One second you're driving by a hardware store, and the next second - boom - corn.
of course "parl" is midwestern for PARK. Jeez...
RW: You are exactly right: Jacksonville is the home of Eli Bridge Company, manufacturer of Ferris Wheels and other amusement rides such as the Scrambler. W.E. Sullivan founded the firm with the introduction of his first portable "Big Eli" Wheel on the Jacksonville Square on May 23, 1900.
Sounds like a good time was had by all.
The "Big Eli" sounds more like a "log ride" than a "Ferris Wheel".
You made me hungry for Pizza at 9am.
A bloody mary made with clamato is called a caesar up here in Canada! Did he put celery salt around the rim and add a celery stalk? Because that dear lady is a true caesar. They are very yummy.
Clamato: So wrong on at least three levels.
Canadian Anonymous: Considering we made them out of the trunk of an Audi, there was no salting the rim of the glass or accouterments. So I guess we were having Caesar Up! De-lish.
Who's the blonde in that one photo who looks like she's about to break out her shiv and bloody someone?
So that's what you use Clamato for. I've always assumed it was a distant cousin of genital warts or something...
I miss college. I went back 2 weeks ago and nothing has changed. All the college girls still make fun of me....until I offer up Free jello shots.
You forget to mention that "dead hooker in the trunk*" is how you let someone know you don't like them.
*Since you have readers in Canada, this would be "dead hooker in the boot."
Sounds like you have fun friends. I am not surprised by this at all.
Mmmmm bloody mary's. At Kent State we made our with a splash of beer. Of course we made everything with a splash of beer including the pancakes at homecoming.
Sounds like so much fun! I have always wondered what clamato juice was used for...now I know.
So much to say
1)Scope, "log ride" in your book is making me a little nervous
2) That Jeannie sounds like my kind of gal....wait, she is my gal.
3) Canada is the home of Bob and Doug, I would think they'd be the ones using the splash of beer.
4) The kid in the picture holding the beer is not from the grade school. He is "one of ours" as they say. The pussies in the Jville school system could never handle a beer at that age and they're too damn poor to be to afford Amstel.
As a second generation Canadian-American (yeah I know how dumb that sounds), I don't trust any culinary advice from a culture that has a name for fries with gravy on them.
Poutine.
Oh, and it's SPECIAL gravy, too. And cheese curds.
Or Cheez-Whiz if you're in Saskatchewan.
But anyplace with "poutine" and "Regina" isn't all bad.
I missed out on all college stuff because I didn't go until I was much older, but instead I have many great acid flashbacks to remind me of the good times of my youth. Good times.
Welcome back!
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