Tweaking My Philosophy

I never been a person to look over my shoulder. I’m rarely bothered by “what if’s” and “I wish I would haves.” I just don’t find it productive and besides, every decision is just one more step on the pathway of what my life has become.

Somehow wrapped up in the “no regrets” life, I’ve also developed a bit of a “don’t go back” philosophy. I’ve been there, I’ve done that and I’ll let the experience live in my memory. I often think about revisiting old stomping grounds – and even go so far to verbalize tentative plans to do so – yet I rarely follow through.

Afraid of disappointment? Unable (insufficiently motivated?) to make the time? I don’t know. I just know that I often don’t.

Until this weekend, that is.

I had a conference in Oklahoma and decided that, in a roundabout way, I’d visit my college friends and professors over the weekend. It somehow seems fitting to squeeze in a roundabout trip in my roundabout life.

Just sitting at the keyboard thinking about this weekend brings me to tears, because you can go back and it can be just as wonderful as you remember. Maybe more so.

I stopped in Joplin on the way to Missouri State University and drove through old familiar neighborhoods that I knew had been leveled by the May tornado.

I took time to do something that I had not allowed myself to do: I wept for Joplin. Churches that my college singing group had performed in: gone. Restaurants that I’d celebrated engagements and birthdays in: gone. I needed to see it and I needed to cry.

I headed on from Joplin to Springfield, my home for six wonderful, transformative years of college and post-graduate life. A former teaching associate, great friend of 17 (!!) years and one-time college housemate welcomed me as a her guest for the weekend. {Thanks, Mel.}

We talked nearly non-stop for two straight days. Some relationships survive being kicked into a corner of a room until you have time to tidy the edges of your life. Dust ’em off, shake ’em out and they are as good as new.

It’s a good thing.

I had brunch with a favorite professor. She swore I hadn’t changed. I thought the same of her. We talked until the restaurant made it clear that we were taking up valuable real estate and she had to head for another meeting. In true collegiate fashion, we solved the world’s problems over several cups of coffee.

Having brunch with her was a good thing.

I had an hour conversation with another favorite professor. It was such a flashback sitting, waiting to meet with him, in the hallway of the building where I spent a majority of my coursework hours. He said I was “all growed up.” Maybe I am. But secretly I hope that I’m not. Life’s too short to be all growed up too soon.

Spending time with him was a good thing.

I had another hour conversation with a favorite professor (not from my discipline). He made time to come to campus to meet with me while I was in town. I took uncountable (ok, uncountable without my transcript in front of me) hours from this man because I loved learning from him. Sitting in his office, as peers and (might I say?) friends was an incredible experience.

Catching up with him outside of Facebook was a very, very good thing.

So here it is: I don’t think I want to wait 16 years to see these people again. Life is a little too precious, and they meant a little too much to me, to wait that long to see them again.

{Look out Kenya, you’re next on my list. I’ve always said nitarudi. This time, I mean it.}

Craig Hall – second home during my college years