Twenty-three years later, and yet in many ways, it felt like
yesterday. September on the Stanford campus is quite amazing, and not just for
the weather, it’s the vibe. I have said to
many people, “Don’t send your kids on a trip to visit Stanford unless you are
prepared to send them there.” The campus is extraordinary, such a tremendous
amount of history at every turn, both in its architecture and its
influence. I was back at the Farm this
past weekend, bringing my kids for the first time, so they could help me relive
those special Stanford student moments all over again.
I must admit it was amazing! My kids don’t quite get it, and
I’m kind of relieved I don’t have to worry about them turning TREE crazy just yet. For me, it was literally a stroll
down memory lane, from the swim pool to Campus Drive, around the stadium and to
the Bookstore. Every single one of these places brought a smile to my face, it’s
just special and I recognized it. It’s not just the geography and the scenery, it’s
also the people. In between corralling
my kids, I had a chance to watch students, both new and upper classmen. I saw parents dropping their kids off or
walking the student union in awe of the moments as the first year at any
college/university is amazing beyond words.
The older students were walking with such purpose.
My move-in moment went like this…I loaded my car and along with
my best friend, Heather, and my parents, drove the 2.5 hours from Roseville, CA,
south down to Palo Alto.
My freshman
dorm was Otero in the Wilbur dorm cluster.
As it was 1990, our awesome furniture was from pre-World War II.
It was solid steel, which meant I couldn't
come close to moving it, and it had a fabulous green tint to it.
It was my first space, and half of the room
stood as an empty canvas.
Thank goodness
I had my MJ posters to work their magic.
I made use of every square inch of my little abode and with a few tears,
said goodbye to my mom, dad and Heather. Scary to think about it now as that
moment is a VERY defining moment in my life.
It’s like a crazy cocktail of extreme sadness and utter excitement with
a healthy splash of anxiety. WOW, my first moment as a Stanford student brings
a few tears to my eyes even now.
I survived freshman year, barely, thank the lord for
swimming. I was in WAY over my head academically, or at least I thought I was,
as I just didn't seem to have the courage in the classroom the way I had them
in the pool or high school. Everyone
around me was just so damn amazing!! I didn’t room with a swimmer, although
Karen did join the water polo team and was super dedicated. Stanford makes it a
point to pool all freshmen together for random pairings. So, it was only by chance if an athlete
roomed with an athlete during their first year.
And every weekend, it was all about Stanford football. We had “Touchdown Tommy”, John Lynch, Glynn
Milburn and Steve Stenstrom to name a few.
We had reasons to cheer, and no matter how hard practice was that
Saturday morning, we were there for our team on game day. The seats were wooden and the stadium was not
quite as posh as some others, but we didn’t care. It was all about the power of
that single letter “S” and being as loud as we could.
On game day this past Saturday, I looked up into the stands
and watched the freshmen looking to their upperclassmen for some game cheering guidance. They have now named the student section, “Nerd Nation”, and those nerds
make some noise. It was beautiful college football noise that makes a difference
in the game, and it was much louder than my era. (Sorry nerds of the ‘90’s) I
was on the field watching the team that I had just spoken to three hours before
as their honorary captain, they were getting focused, ready and amped out of
their heads. I felt small. And I was.
Kids are bigger now…seriously, I said to coach Shaw, “When you
introduced me and the team stood up, I felt like a toddler.” Impressive not
just in stature, but in the level of respect they show to everyone, themselves
included. I was curiously nervous to
talk to the fellas wondering how a 40-year-old mom of two could relate to the
incredible Stanford student-athlete of today.
My 7 minutes in front of the guys flew by way too fast. I wanted to tell them so much more than I did,
and when I was done my hands were shaking. I could barely hold myself steady as
many of them came up to give me a hug. And that is when it hit me.
Respect.
Once you wear that Stanford “S”, it doesn’t matter what year it was, how
old you are, or how many kids you've popped out, you can transport yourself
right back to that stage of life like a superhero. Yep, for about five
glorious hours, I was a 19-year-old Stanford swimmer cheering on my football
team. Only this time, I was on the sidelines fist pumping those giant men after
a great play.
Pinch me now…I still don't
believe it.
I reminisced and loved it.
The end result of my Stanford weekend was a first half on
the field, a second half in the stands with my family, and a Sunday morning to
soak it all up. And I sopped it up like a full stack of pancakes with pure
maple syrup. Every sweet moment I could
take in on campus I did, and it made me love Stanford even more. It made me cherish that time in my life.
Every memory still brings such joy to my face and a giggle in my heart. Magical
moments that I will never forget and maybe some day my kids will fully
understand. Maybe.
