A week ago or so the gang and I went to see Avenue Q, which I’d really wanted to see for a while. It was terrific but I was a little nervous that I might get teary when they sang “I wish I could go back to college” because I always seem to when I hear that song. I’m not sure why I get so worked up when I think about being a young person and the time I spent in Virginia.
I’m sure it has something to do with all the firsts – moving out of the house, learning to live with strangers, eating all-you-care-to-cover-in-ranch every day, the availability of mass quantities of wine coolers, or the hormones rushing through the bodies of hundreds who are celebrating the unending opportunities to finally “do it” without getting caught by their parents (but with the likelihood of being caught by their new roommate who is only pretending to sleep on the bottom bunk and wishing that two minutes would quickly pass without so much shaking). Anyway, I’d been feeling a little nostalgic about the friends I’d lost touch with and googled one of my favorite people from freshman year.
I’m not sure why I remember it so vividly, but I was standing just outside the snack bar in the student center holding an unreasonably large pile of books when it happened. Mike Esterheld walked up to me and told me that he was leaving Shenandoah to join the Americorps. I dropped my stack of books (making a loud thump and quite a mess) and burst into tears. I was so shocked and saddened that someone so wonderful was leaving and with my 18 year old self-centered perspective screwed on tight, I proceeded to lose touch with him. Anyway, for those who remember me as the Cooley Girl you knew and loved you’ll also want to know that Michael Esterheld (and his riveting song about starting a date at Wal-Mart) can be found at www.mikeesterheld.com (or for those of you who’ve never understood my college stories, this should give you a clearer picture).
Oh, and I just remembered, Anne Pape, I know that I still owe you dollars from the phone bill – I think it was like thirty or something. Let me know where you live and I’ll send it straight away – sorry it’s so late!
I just sighed audibly in my office. And I shall again, after re-reading about Mike Esterheld.
And oh Lord, Matt Christie. Damn.
Oh, and remember how we had to gently sit you down to inform you of Shawn Hollenbach’s new acceptance of his sexuality? It felt like an intervention of sorts, taking as much preparation and cooperation between your friends as if we were telling you that for your own good you needed to go to Promises Rehab in Malibu for your meth addiction. Thank heavens you were receptive to our love and got yourself some help. I know it was hard for all of us to accept and understand (although, not at all hard to imagine SH as being gay, for reals).