I was giddy as I walked across the flagstones leading to the front doors to Gonzaga University. I couldn't wait to walk the old halls, to sit in the old chairs, and to discover the renovations and additions that have changed this school since I last said good-bye to her.
This was my first dormitory, temporarily assigned because of the overflow of incoming freshmen. I had to share the dorm study hall with five other girls, all but one from Washington. Juliana from Edmonds, Heather from Tri-Cities, Amy from Spokane, Stephanie from Toppenish, and Paige from Montana (I don't remember what city though). Of course when I told them where I went to high school, they all asked "Are you Guamese?" To which, of course, they receive a complimentary sociology and geography lesson from Yours Truly: No, I'm Trukese, from Truk. And a "Guamanian" is a person from Guam. Our islands are in Micronesia, not Indonesia. And we are no where near Hawaii, therefore we do not speak Hawaiian.
Three years later, Kim lived in the very same dormitory her freshman year too! I visited her numerous times there. My most vivid memory of one such visit was when she called me one night, it had to have been late because I was already in bed. She wanted me to take her to the store. At first she wouldn't say what for. But after me threatening to hang up, she finally admitted her desperation for "napkins".
Doesn't anybody in the dorm have some you can borrow? I asked.
"I'm too embarassed to ask them."
I'll just bring you some, then.
"No, I have to pick them out myself."
Later that same night, waking me from deep sleep this time, Kim asked for another ride to the store. She wanted cereal and milk.
What, now you have to have something to make use of your napkins?!
"Pleeeeeeease!" she pleaded in that way that only Kim can do. And of course she got her Fruity Pebbles. And I got caller ID.
Now, Kim downright denies the latter part of the story. But hey, this is my blog, and I'll tell the story MY way!
And I still love you, Kimmie.
When the rooming situation got sorted out, I moved into this dormitory, with Liz from Bow, WA.
It was through our window that we observed a group of guys throwing a Frisbee (or was it a football?) on that lawn, making such a ruckus with there hoots and hollers. It was one particular guy who always started the games. Tony B. I noticed him in the Hughes (science) Building a lot, and had one class with him. It wasn't long before the girls started to tease me about him.
"He wants to go on a date with you!"
"... In the mountains!"
"He's so cute [wink-wink]!"
If you say he's so cute, then why don't you ask him out?!
"Because YOU'RE the one he likes!" And they proceed to guffaw in such unladylike manner.
Don't get me wrong. Tony was actually a nice guy. But he was strange. He wore Coke bottle glasses, he walked with a mopy gait, he had the thickest beard for an eighteen-year old, his jokes were out of place, and he was a hermit of sorts who mumbled to himself a lot. He was always hanging out with the Jesuits. Later, my senior year I think, he was so withdrawn from his peers, and now sported a brown robe with a rope for a belt. He wore Birkenstock sandals even in the frigid Spokane winters. "Call me Brother Tony," he announced to his acquaintances.
Good luck, Brother Tony. As far as the rumors went, he entered the seminary.
Of course my friends never stopped with the teasing. This time they were saying "He's becoming a priest because you turned him down!" More guffawing. College girls! They think they're too cool because they get to call the shots now. Dangerous.
I moved off campus my junior year. The distance from my front stoop to the doors of the Administration Building ("Ad" for short, back in the day, "University Hall" today) was exactly three miles. When weather permitted, I roller bladed, bicycled, and rode my motorcycle to school on the famous Centennial Trail right in front of my house. I watched countless athletes - cyclists, runners, bladers - training on this trail. Even my old crush, Dr. M, graced me plenty of times jogging by.
The subsequent residents planted that huge tree to the right, and the little one in the front yard. On the bottom right edge of the photo, right behind the lush green bush next to sidewalk, the grotto that my Pa built still stands. The Virgin Mary statue was cemented in place, so I'm guessing it's still in there since the new owners kept the structure to begin with.
It was called "The Ad", short for Administration Building. Now it's called University Hall. It was in the hallway of this building that Michelle attempted to pull my pants down to my ankles. Michelle was a loud bully of girl, towering a whole foot over me, and just as big around. I fought her with all my tiny might. Several times I had to call on my strength and agility to fight her off, but I won't go into that. Ugh! I didn't like her at all. Yet, she was very popular, and in turn, knew almost everyone in school by name. She was a Eucharistic minister at Mass in the student chapel upstairs, saying each person's name with "Body of Christ... [name]."
It was also in the Ad that I met my first student crush. His name was Todd G., from Bellevue. The only class we ever had together was Speech & Communication. I always came into the classroom after him so that I could sit behind him, to gaze at his salt-and-pepper hair. At the end of the course, everyone drew topics out of a hat, and had three minutes in the hallway to prepare a speech on it. I picked "Dreams", which I thought was very fortuitous because I wrote a paper on Freud and dreams in high school.
I started out with such an air of confidence! According to Sigmund Freud, everything has sexual derivations... even dreams.
[I'm already rolling with laughter as I'm writing this.]
... Everything is a phallic symbol. Flowers might represent the female sex. And anything long and tubular might symbolize, the uh... um... you know... uh...
My classmates began to snicker audibly.
Ahem! The penis, the last word now spoken in almost hushed whisper.
The class erupts in laughter!
[Tears are running down my cheeks, I'm laughing so hard right now.]
Refusing to give in to the humiliation, and at the same time thinking that I had their attention for sure now, I pressed on flawlessly, straight faced and determined. Which was probably what escalated the level of laughter out of control at this point.
For instance, a few days ago I had a dream about a snake that was chasing me.
HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!
Freud would probably diagnose me with sexual frustration.
I looked to the professor for some support. He was hanging off his chair, his face contorted with laughter, belching words that sounded something like "That's great! Keep going!"
I ended my speech thanking the professor for the opportunity to share my knowledge of such an intriguing topic, and the students for their rapt attention. Everyone else's speech after me paled in comparison. Needless to say, I received an A+ in the class.
By the way, since it was the end of the school year, students were moving out of the dorms, packing their cars full to the roof of every item they own from their rooms. My roommate Liz realized the hassle of it, and therefore accessorized her half of the room sparingly. I, on the other hand, had to pack away posters, a refrigerator, two crate pallets (to raise my bed five feet into the air) and the impractical paraphernalia occupying the space under my bed, which I had collected as the semesters rolled by.
Behind University Hall is the Quad. I got to know every square inch of this area, thanks to Army Reserve Officers' Training Corp (ROTC). Here we met in formation to start our exercises, from battalion runs (during which I always fell back, pulling in the rear by five minutes - yes, I was that out of shape!) to compass classes and boot camp drills. I loved getting my face painted and crawling on my belly with an M-16 in my hands! Once, during a night time FTX (Field Training Exercise), huddled in with my platoon, red flashlights attached to the shoulder straps of our ruck sacks, a senior officer approached me with a question. "What's your platoon leader's name?"
Um... I don't know. But it's that guy right there. I pointed, embarassed. Hey, I took the course for FUN, not for the career. Later, I learned that that platoon leader's name was Jim. We ended up in Biology 101 lab together.
The science building is called Hughes. It's the building behind the trees, center of photo. My building. This is where I sliced salamander heads to study the vomeronasal organ. This is where I determined the chemical contents of an unknown object in Dr. B's lab. This is where I assisted in the research of muscle cells for Dr. M. This is where I met my first boyfriend, Herman. (Of course that's a made-up name.)
The building to the left is Herak. This is where I took one of two classes that made me feel so dumb! Physics. The other "dumb" class was inorganic chemistry. How these two classes contribute to knowing how to approach life's obstacles is beyond me! I appreciated the more tangible and physically obvious subjects like immunology and histology. These are how I know to evade the common cold, and how to treat a zit properly.
The Internet and e-mails exploded into obsession my senior year. Suddenly, it was the most exhilarating experience to instantly exchange messages with students who lived on the other end of campus from me, or in Michigan. I was made aware of a website based out of the University of Michigan where students of science met to discuss anything science. Sometimes, I think fellow students make better teachers than professors. And that's all I have to say about that.
For the rest of the year, the Foley Center was my hangout. If I wasn't in the computer lab in the basement, I was in the twenty-four hour study lounge, where you were sure to run into a fellow biologist or chemist to review for upcoming exams. One such student was Nate. He was so tall, he hunched over in embarrassment of it. He was so tender, even the sodium rock explosions he caused in Lake Arthur were forgivable. He was so innocent, he asked a girl friend to watch the bathroom door while he was doing his business in there.
"Why did you let him open the door?" Nate asked the girl after someone opened the door while he was in the bathroom.
"Why didn't you lock it?" rebutted the girl.
"Because I asked you to watch it."
It was also Nate who scored me a dab of liquid nitrogen to burn off some pesky warts I had on my cheek. Now, where's Nate when I need that wart terminator!
Another class that I found very useful was Exercise Physiology. Dr. M preferred to call it "Physiology of Exercise." This was held in the Martin Center, where the athletic department was housed, where I watched one - yes, ONLY ONE - basketball game the entire time I was there. That was where we all went to work out during the winter. I loved the pool! My dorm mate, Megan from Alaska, was a competitive swimmer in high school. I thought I was fast. She was a dolphin in the water!
Open to the pool from above, was a running track. Once, when there was too much snow on the ground, we had to do our ROTC Physical Training running test on that track. Why college students get drunk the night before such a physical test is, in my opinion, their way of expressing their dependent independence. Needless to say, I gagged so much from the smell that I failed to meet my time by seven stinkin' seconds!
This is the new, state of the art athletic center, thanks to the revenue from our Cinderella basketball program. The gray sweepy-roofed building on the right edge of the photo is the Martin Center, where back in the day, commencement ceremonies were held. This new facility is where Kim would walk for her commencement ceremony.
When I was there, none of the fields were fenced, and all of them were grass. Residents of Catherine/ Monica wore a path through this old open grass field, walking across it to get to classes and to the COG. Now it's a fenced off turf soccer field.
The COG is where the main cafeteria is located. This is where I achieved my proverbial Freshman Fifteen. How can you not partake of the unlimited food and beverages with one mere swipe of your student ID?!
Alas, this old icon is getting torn down after the school year. For old times' sake, Kim and I relished the very last meal we'll ever have in the old Center of Gonzaga building.
"I didn't know that it stood for Center of Gonzaga!" exclaimed Kim.
As swell of a time as I had while I was there, I was glad to leave as well. It was a scorching hot weekend, and really, unless you have a mountain bike or a boat, there isn't really much else to do in Spokane besides eat and read. So, with a satisfied heart and another bittersweet farewell, I left my alma mater once again.
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