Tuition Sluts

The Rose Bowl is the only bowl I've ever seen that I didn't have to clean.

Erma Bombeck

I know many of you are not football fans, but I am. I have my specific teams like my Alma Mater -- Michigan State.  My parents lived in Green Bay, Wisconsin for 31 years and my kids attended Packer summer practice camps countless times. Packers are my pro team.

My husband, Bob, graduated from University of Colorado. I don't feel much loyalty there. But when my kids went off to college, Bob and I  found ourselves rooting for teams we never would have considered in a million years. Never did we picture our legs hooked together with a stranger or our arms swathed across the back of whomever stood next to us while we swayed and sang "Saw Varsity's horns off." Or that we'd say "Whoop!' after another Fighting Texas Aggie first down.

Then, there we were in Flagstaff, Arizona watching the Northern Arizona Lumberjacks take on the likes of Montana State while we counted as Louie the Lumberjack did pushups on a trampoline to match the score. Not to mention that although the school colors are navy and green, the athletic colors are navy and yellow - verboten to a green and white Michigan State fan. (U of Michigan is blue and yellow - oh, sorry. Maize, she writes with a sarcastic shrug of her shoulders. I don't like Wolverines.)

No surprise that when youngest son, Ian, went off the the University of Alabama, we became fans of the Crimson Tide. We've just had to face the fact that we are tuition sluts. We cheer for whoever is taking our money.

Banner year for Crimson Tide and Green Bay Packer fans. Tide plays for the national championship Monday night. Packers - three games from repeating as Super Bowl champs.

Tomorrow night Bob and I will wear our Alabama shirts and plant ourselves in front of the TV in the Green Bay Packer Hall of Fame (basement.) After each first down, we will shake our shakers on the Roll Tide count. 

First Down Alabama - Roll Tide.

Just sayin'.

Roll Tide

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.

Sylvia Plath 

Roll Tide. Rolling tide. Rolling. Been a while since I've posted, but I am still rolling. Not certain it is a clean roll. Lots of undertow in the tide.

As many have experienced, a death in the family often produces a fog that blocks the roads ahead. Thought processes muddle or become stagnant. For me, both true. Varied thoughts all the time and  gathering them into a cohesive plan for life action has taken time. Not to say I'm all organized now, for that sure as hell ain't true (nor never possibly has been.) But I do have a new list of action items - things that must get done. It is a start.

"Write a new post" on my list. Here we go.

This is what $230 will get you for a seat at an Alabama game - one that also includes the #1 and #2 team.

Last summer, when we chose to attend the Alabama/LSU football game, we had no idea that by the time the game rolled around, these two would be the top two teams in the nation (or that our tickets had tripled in price.) Oh, what fun. We drove the 11 hour drive to Tuscaloosa and invaded our youngest son's spotless apartment. (I mean - that boy DID learn how to clean a bathroom when he lived at home.)  His three roommates were thrilled to have us spend a couple of days there. Such nice boys.

 The night before the game, we began tailgating on campus. Never had I seen such a set up - not at a Michigan State, Texas, Colorado, Michigan, Texas A&M, etc. game. Thousands of tents. Countless RV's set up everywhere from fields on campus to the shopping malls. 175,000 people milling about.

The fun began - early morning. A rare open space here.

 

 There we were, a couple of former Yankees in the deep South.

Even the ESPN guys were there.

Throngs of people.

The streets jam packed all day long.

One of the many, many RV parking lots.

 

According to some, watching the game on TV was the equivalent of the Boring Bowl. For those present, Alabama's loss in this defensive struggle, 9-6, was most intense to sit through. 

Best thing? Good chance  these two teams will meet again for the National Championship.

Other than being with youngest son, best thing about the trip?

Stopped in New Orleans on the way home. Husband finally got to garner the experience. Made him stand here for the traditional photo.

I won't have to listen to him whine about never being there, anymore.

Meanwhile....

I've pretty much felt like this big block of ice for the past couple of months. Losing your mom is an odd thing to process.

I believe I've broken off from the big pile and find floating has unstuck me some. Hoping for a bigger melt real soon. The fog has lifted and offers a path.

To all of you who have written me and to all who left such lovely comments on my mom's last blog post at Old? Who Me?, please accept my heartfelt thanks.

Roll Tide!

Every 18 Year Old Boy Dreams of...

Children aren't happy with nothing to ignore,
And that's what parents were created for.
Ogden Nash, "The Parent," Happy Days, 1933

When I was 19 years old, I enrolled as a junior at Michigan State University. With two years of community college behind me, I drove myself the two and a half hours to East Lansing for summer orientation. I registered, bought my books and paid for my first quarter of tuition and living from my own bank account. All that jazz.

When school began in the fall, I lived in a dorm. A few freshman lived on my floor and come to find out, they had attended a different summer orientation. One where their parents had attended as well and spent the night in a dorm. I had to chuckle to myself. As a transfer student, that option wasn't offered to me and besides, no way in hell would my parents have done that. My mom sleeping in a bunk bed? In a dorm? With other parents? I don't think so.

I just returned from orientation at the University of Alabama with Ian. No way in hell did I sleep in a bunk bed either. Ian stayed in the dorm. I had my own hotel room. Me, myself, and I. A remote control. A bottle of wine brought from home. A cooler of fresh berries to savor. Bag of cheese puffs. Worked for me.

Yes, for those of you that have been here before, Ian's turn to road trip with mom. (New readers - my kids just love this.) Complete with AAA guidebooks. Instead of heading west as I did with Jordan driving to Flagstaff, Arizona on this road...

...we went the other way. A new part of the country to explore. Road trip - always an adventure.

As usual, took FOR EV ER to get out of Texas, but most surprised at the beauty of the Piney Woods.

The Mississippi at Vicksburg, MS

The casino over on the right. I can't believe all the casinos everywhere. My husband and I are not gamblers, so always surprises me to see how many exist and in such odd places. When I grew up, you could only gamble in Las Vegas. And Monte Carlo.

Finally we arrived at the University of Alabama. Here's a view of The Quad.

Ian's college - the football stadium conveniently located next door.

The President's home - one of the only buildings to survive the Civil War.

The library - I took this photo so Ian could read this and recognize the building while he's there. (I bet they let you inside there, too, Ian.)

After two days of "disorientation" and the up/down emotion of the reality of his decision, more familiarity with the campus gained, classes registered for and a quick peek at the future dorm room, we were ready to hit the road. Had intended to visit the Alabama or Florida beaches on the way home. Followed the oil stories and felt this wasn't the best time to take a dip in the ocean. I'm so sorry for that as I've never seen the sugar white sand beaches. Hopefully, soon...

Instead, we drove to New Orleans.
And saw the Mississippi way down the road from our previous stop. We walked a mile or more. Doesn't seem fair that New Orleans and the gulf regions affected by the hurricanes again face such devastation. Although, crowds shared the sidewalks with us and we found a great deal on a hotel in the French Quarter. A few oyster houses had no oysters to sell and some of the gumbo was missing a little of the local fare. But, we didn't care.

New Orleans - what fun!

Here's Ian talking to his dad on the phone with St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square in the background. I handed the phone to Ian after his Dad said, "I've never been to New Orleans," in one of those poor, woe-is-me, voices.

Yeah, and I've never been to Singapore, Malaysia, Japan, Taiwan, Seattle, or Prague. Here's a few photos I took on our walk.



I'm thinking we'll be back. Bring that husband of mine so he can say he's been here, too. Ian had his red beans and rice and I had some delicious craw fish quesadillas. Had exhaustion not permeated our minds from our two day stress fest, I would have made a fine dining reservation as Ian, the future chef, appreciates good food. But the meals we chose comforted our weary college orientation souls.

In answer to the title of this piece - What Every 18 Year Old Boy Dreams Of... A road trip with Mom, right? RIGHT! That's what you were thinking.

Wrong!

Every 18 year old boy's dream...

walking down Bourbon Street with his mother.

Go visit the south. They need us and there is much to enjoy.

Another Milestone - Another Deep Breath

Do not follow where the path may lead. Go, instead, where there is no path and leave a trail.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

For those of you with children, or those of you who observe others with children, please know/recall/try to forget how the senior year of high school can often be one of the most difficult. Oh, sure, I remember the nights walking the floors calming a crying baby, or sticking yet another spoonful of food into their mouths. Not to mention how many diapers I changed awaiting both the day and their never ending energy to finally abate.

But as I look back, tending their appetite, cleanliness, and making yet another batch of Play-doh seemed much simpler. Defined. I didn't have to add in the deep emotion that arrives when it's time to launch them, making certain I get them to the 18year milestone. Experience the persistent worry that my husband and I have provided them with the necessary tools to create their own paths. Often, a tough mask covers my angst.

Last fall I said to my youngest son, Ian, "Get ready to not like me." Having had experience with his two brothers before him, I added. "Remember, it's all for you."

A little guilt never hurts.

"Much to accomplish this fall semester. I won't do any of it for you, but I will ride your ass until you get it all done."

Threat experience works, too.

His list:
Take SAT/ACT tests
Choose five schools to send applications
Fill out the applications
Write the required essays
Create a resume for college aps
Get References
Write thank yous
Pass high school.

I have to be honest. Maintaining the necessary vigor to get through this with the third child makes me glad I didn't have more. I doubt I could muster the energy or strength to get through another one, nor provide their just deserve.

But no excuse for not carrying the whip for Ian.

Alas, the year sped by. The whip, lost somewhere in the house, and there we were, Graduation Day.

Oldest brother and new sister-in-law joined the party.

A tired, relieved mom.

Two days of cooking for the party and last time the Orange and Black (school colors) tablecloths will come out except for Halloween.

Pies, instead of a cake. Rhubarb, Blueberry Rhubarb, Buttermilk, Apple, and a Blueberry Crisp.

How can this time have gone by so quickly?

And the next stop on his life trail?

Roll Tide.
His leaving my home in the fall already causing my heart to seize up, but that's a story for another day much too soon.