I’m standing in line holding a towel, shampoo bottle and bar of soap. There’s two girls in front of me and two behind, all of us waiting for one of three narrow showers to open up.

 It’s College Dormitory Life 101, and I’m at the University of Texas in Austin at a summer journalism camp.

While listening to the girls whine about lame boyfriends, I thought about the two years I lived in a college dormitory back in the 1970s.

Heading off to Southeastern Louisiana University was my first big adventure, and I thought life in a dorm would be fabulous.

Back then, sleeping in the top bunk on a hard-as-a-rock university-issued mattress didn’t faze me. Neither did having a community bathroom for everybody on the first floor. I was the eldest of seven in a house with one bathroom, and we made it work.

My roommate and her mom were the decorating types, and they fussed over making sure we had matching blue rib-cord bedspreads from Sears and home-made gingham blue checked curtains. My contribution was a purple fish-net hanging in the corner and a James Taylor Mud Slide Slim poster.

In reality, I could’ve cared less about our decorating scheme. All I cared about was getting away from home and being on my own.

 

Now We’re Adults

I thought about those days a lot during our seminar as all the campers stayed in an older dorm, Jester West, which was built in 1969 and can accommodate up to 3,000 students.

Fitting a small city on 11 floors requires scrimping on square footage. Each room had two beds, a sink and some shelves, but I don’t think a VW Beetle could fit inside one comfortably.

Throw in two girls with their laptops, power strips to plug in hair dryers, curling irons, flat iron straighteners, cell phone rechargers and iPads and there’s barely enough room for the obligatory stuffed animals and piles of tennis shoes and Crocs.

Then there’s the matter of where to put clothes. Back in the seventies, Karen and I comfortably shared a closet because our wardrobe consisted of T-shirts and bell-bottom jeans.

Today’s college kid must hang clothes hangers from the ceiling to accommodate their 10 pairs of jeans, T-shirts from every punk rock band from the 1980s and two or three sets of pajamas for heading down to the first floor Wendy’s for midnight fries.   

That doesn’t even take into account the other essentials:  hoodies for cold classrooms, an oversized backpack for long treks across UT’s “40 acres” or a Keurig machine for those needed late-night cups of coffee.

Everybody has to have their own refrigerator and microwave plus a place to store the Orville Redenbacher microwave popcorn, instant mac and cheese, hot Cheetos and Pop Tarts. By the time you’ve shoved all that into this tiny room, it’s a wonder college kids don’t suffer from claustrophobia.

But I’m looking at that dorm room from an adult’s perspective. What seems like a tiny space is actually a comfortable cocoon far away from the prying eyes of mom and dad.

And let’s face it. Sharing a community bathroom isn’t a big deal if you find a sympathetic ear about that political science final while waiting in line for the shower. Boring white walls are an invitation to put up profane glow-in-the-dark posters.

As a bonus, might I suggest fish nets in the corners and a James Taylor poster.

I hear retro’s in.

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.  

 

The young bridegroom stood at the front of the altar, glancing repeatedly at the back of the church.

His beautiful bride waited in the vestibule of the church, her father next to her, as they prepared to take the walk from childhood to adulthood.

My 26-year-old niece, Anna, married her long-time beau, Michael, this past weekend. The church was filled with family and friends who watched these two young adults pledge themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

It’s not easy making a vow of that magnitude, especially in a world where we “unfriend” people on Facebook at the drop of a hat and people tweet their innermost thoughts to the world, promises and thoughts which are forgotten within the hour.

We’ve evolved into a throw-away and short-term society that believes tossing something outdated or broken is easier than the time and effort required to maintain it.

Few people keep a vehicle past 100,000 miles, preferring to trade in the old reliable sedan for a newer, fancier model.

When the microwave refuses to heat up Honey Buns or the coffee maker runs too slow, we don’t look for a repair shop – we buy a new one and toss the broken appliance. Manufacturers know this so they don’t make long-lasting machines.

When our 25-year-old freezer finally gave up the ghost and I asked to buy another one that would last that long, the salesperson told me they don’t make appliances like that anymore. He said a five-year lifespan was about all I could hope for.

So it’s come to that.

Five years is considered a lifetime. 

So to think two young people in their mid 20s would pledge to stay together for the rest of their lives is almost unrealistic. Until you take into account the character of Anna and Michael.

Over the years of their courtship, they worked to build a solid foundation for a life together. They talked, planned, laughed, cried and prayed and finally decided they were ready to pledge their lives to each other.

Michael and Anna were married in front of family and friends during a full Mass, and their reception was a joyous mixing of the Wahl and the Hebert families.  

Over the course of the night, the hall was filled with people dancing, laughing and toasting the happy couple. Grandchildren sat on their grandparents’ laps as relatives reconnected, sharing stories of past family gatherings and missing those who were no longer with us.

I looked around the hall, realizing people had traveled from all over the country to attend the wedding. Perhaps that’s the soundest show of support for newlyweds – families and friends making it a priority to witness the biggest promise one can make in life. 

Michael and Anna didn’t have to look far to see how a promise can come full circle. Our Aunt Bev and Uncle Jim flew in from New York to see Michael and Anna take their vows the same week they celebrated their 49th wedding anniversary.

In addition, my sister and her husband quietly renewed their wedding vows right after the ceremony. Twenty-five years ago, Donna and Jimmy were married by the same priest who married Michael and Anna.

Donna and Jimmy’s grown children witnessed the blessing of their union, just as we did when their parents were in their 20’s, two kids starting out with a promise to love and honor each other for the rest of their lives.

A promise and a prayer. Two intangibles that last a lifetime.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

By now, most high schools and universities have held their commencement ceremonies. Thousands of hopefuls have walked across a stage, received a padded cardboard diploma case from someone they’ve never spoken to in their life and been declared ready to take on the world.

To help them with this Grand Canyon step, speakers are invited to give inspirational talks to the graduates in hopes that they will keep walking when they reach the other side of the stage, somehow get a job and start sending money immediately to benefit the alumni cash register.

As in all things, though, some of the speeches are better than others.

Columnist David Brooks told graduates that they will not find their passion. It will find them. For many of the teens I know, that passion includes racking up hours of “Call of Duty:  Black Ops II” from the living room couch while consuming mountains of Doritos dipped in Cheez Whiz.

Dick Costelo, CEO with Twitter, told students they won’t recognize the impact they’re having in life until they’re having it. That’s sort of like realizing you’ve backed your car into a tree when you hear the thud.

Katie Couric knows how to inspire an audience. She told the graduates at Randolph Macon College in Virginia that everybody’s terminal. Exactly what 18-year-olds who can finally buy beer legally want to hear.

Rep. John Lewis from Georgia probably gave a speech that got the most applause – he told the Class of 2013 to go out and find a way to get in trouble. Good trouble, he cautioned, but I don’t know a teenager who would’ve listened for the caveat after hearing they had the green light to dabble in shenanigans.

Activist Bill McKibben told graduates in Florida not to let their minds go back to sleep. As if any of them been chomping at the bit in their morning classes. Ever try staying awake in a statistics or Elizabethan poetry class? I rest my case.

Newark Mayor Cory Booker told students to listen to the still voice in their heads. I don’t know about the graduates at Yale, but the little voice inside my head when I was 18 told me to go back to bed, listen to my “Rubber Soul” album for the 98th time and keep believing the Beatles would, one day, reunite.

Oprah told Harvard graduates that failure is “life trying to move us into another direction.” That direction, for some, might be the serving frappuccino at the local coffee house if they decided to major in the offbeat. Case in point, a course my Aggie son actually took and I paid for:  “The Language of Love.”

Seriously. I paid for that.

Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson told Rice graduates that they still have a lot to learn. Most 18-year-olds believe they already know everything. Asking them to admit they have a lot yet to learn is like asking my dog to sing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

Television writer Jon Lovett told the graduates at Pitzer College that it’s time to move on. They annoyed their parents for years and their professors for the past four. Now it’s time to go out into the world and annoy someone else. Unfortunately, many of them will repeat the cycle, move back home and resume annoying their parents.

Rob Lazebnik, a writer on “The Simpsons” penned a great tongue-in-cheek articles advising graduates to do what they do best – get lucky.

So roll the dice, Class of 2013 and hope Lady Luck is on your side.

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.