The Summer Project: Farewell, Hello (1988)

Tonight is Michael's last night at home before he moves into the dorm tomorrow. Thirty-four years ago, I  experienced my last night before going away to college.

The summer of 1988, after graduating high school, was amazing. At the time, it was one of the hottest summers in Chicago's history, with highs in the 90s for a month straight and plenty of humidity. I worked at SportMart, trying to collect as much money as I could before heading to Marquette. I hung out with my friends, seemingly doing something every afternoon or evening. More than ever, I felt like I belonged, and the summer seemed as if it was there just for us.

Then in August, we all departed for college. Of the seven friends in our group, two of us were going to colleges on our own, without another friend along for the ride. I was one of those two, walking away from that belonging I felt and the unforgettable summer.

I've written about the run-up to leaving for college before -- spoiler alert, there was vomiting involved. The night before I left, I was out with John and Mike. I don't remember quite what we did, possibly just drove around and hung out. John dropped me off, and the goodbye was smiles and reassurance, that this wasn't an end. I stepped inside and, mostly packed, tried to fall asleep.

My mom's room was the only one in the house with air conditioning, and we'd all cram into it to get some relief from the heat. I would spread a blanket on the floor to sleep, but this night, sleep wasn't coming easily. Listening to some music, I remember Breathe's "Hands to Heaven," which is about departures and separation ("Tomorrow I must leave, the dawn knows no reprieve") -- and didn't get me any closer to dozing off.

But eventually, I did sleep, then awoke in the morning, Aug. 21, 1988. Dad came over and we packed his Grand Am. I hugged Mom goodbye (oddly, I don't remember saying goodbye to my sisters), and we left for Milwaukee.

I was selected to participate in a retreat for incoming Marquette freshmen from Catholic high schools identified as potential leaders, which allowed me to move stuff into my dorm a few days before every other freshman did. So, the process wasn't crazy, but I had four hours to kill between the move-in time and when the bus for the retreat (down near Elkhorn, Wisconsin) departed. Dad and I got lunch, saw "Die Hard" at the Grand Theater downtown, bought and sent a birthday card for Mom, and he dropped me off  back at Marquette.

The extra couple days before orientation helped me acclimate to the new adventure I was on. I met many new people, and I'm still friends with someone from that retreat -- and through her I met other new, good friends. Also, a cute girl gave me a swim lesson during the retreat. When we returned to Milwaukee, my head was spinning, in a good way. My first night in my dorm (still before any other freshmen arrived), I wrote letters to the Chicago friends I left behind. I had the window to my dorm room open, and I could hear the city outside and below (my room was on the sixth floor). Everything seemed so wondrous.

Back then, Marquette's orientation was a four-day party, more or less. I met more new people (including one I just found on Facebook -- no, I didn't send a friend request, I'm not that creepy, plus I don't think I would agree with her politics ...) and enjoyed this crazy transition. But the week of retreat and orientation ended, classes started, I began writing for the school newspaper ... and summer was done, even before Labor Day. That's not to say the weeks after the first suddenly turned unadventurous, but it just didn't feel like summer the way the wondrous June, July, and August did.

I'm writing this tonight because I'm wondering what's going through Michael's head as he tries to sleep in advance of the move-in tomorrow at the University of Utah. He has been saying goodbye to friends all summer and today went to Lagoon with two good buddies who are headed to the University of Michigan. The car is somewhat packed, and being just two miles away, we can make multiple trips. No, he won't be that far, but this is still an adventure for him. He doesn't start classes until next week, and I hope he takes the next five days to not only settle in, but also meet new people, find fun everywhere, and enjoy the transition to wrap up the summer. Our experiences may be 34 years apart and at different schools, but  I hope the adventure and wonder are consistent. 

In other words, I hope he never forgets this week.