I loved college and hey, college loved me. Not at first. No, no, no…there was definitely a lot of character building. Still, Central was good for me and provided many different experiences, good and bad.
- Freshman Year—Lessons learned: Don’t trust just anyone, especially when things come up missing. Don’t give up after the first month (I almost did). Go to class but not when you are so sick you…get sick…during class. Don’t drink a Bellringer from the Wayside all by yourself or you might do crazy things and almost kill yourself. By the end of the year, I wasn’t living with the same people I had started living with at the beginning. Most of college was like that.
- Sophomore Year—Lessons learned: It isn’t always the best idea to live with your “closest” friends. When someone says you can borrow their lotion/perfume/clothes/CDs anytime you want, they don’t mean it. Your closest friends can break your heart. Not all classes can be blown off.
- Junior Year—Lessons learned: Living with three boys can be fun, exciting, a riot, messy…as long as you don’t start dating one of them. If you can’t make friends, buy them. Broadcasting people are just as weird as I am. When you break up with your roommate/boyfriend, move in with your cousin’s friends who are twin brothers (this actually worked out well until one of them started liking me). Sometimes heartache and displacement can cause you to do better in school and get on the Dean’s List. Smile more and you will win “Prettiest Smile” in the broadcasting department (along with most eligible bachelorette…and two scholarships).
- Senior Year—Lessons learned: Living with 20 other girls isn’t a horrible idea, as long as you know when to stay out of the fire. When you break up with someone, sometimes it isn’t always a clean break. Just because you put your heart out there to someone new doesn’t mean they will accept it and the two of you will live happily ever after…and sometimes, it does work out. When your kitty cat dies, it hurts almost as bad as when your grandpa dies. Hanging out with the frat boys across the road is an excellent way to scare off most dates. It is okay to graduate without a job…and to fall in love right before you leave college forever.
CMU was full of quirky, religiousy things. First, there was The Preacher Dude/Weirdo. He would stand between Anspach and Moore Hall trying to save all of us sinners. Great tactic. Yell how we are all going to hell. It didn’t work. People would gather around him, though and try to debate. Second, the Jesus Freaks that lived in the old frat house on Main Street. They were the fraternity of God (the Greek letters they used were Alpha and Omega). They would come after all of us, too. Not effective. Third, the student catholic church on campus that had a really excellent way to get to people’s hearts: put crosses all over the lawn to signify the number of abortions in a week/month/year. It really creeped me out. I wanted to protect those little crosses, shield them from the snow, rain, cold, heat. I knew the church was trying to make a statement but those mistakes didn’t belong to them. If they were trying to show Christ’s love, they were missing the point. Girls already felt alienated, shame, guilt. These crosses really rubbed it in. It was a slap on the face, a constant reminder.
Central quickly became my home, though. The only problem was going back to Laingsburg on weekends. My step-dad and I couldn’t stand each other. On one occasion, I called my sister, crying. She was in the process of buying a house behind Holt High School. She said there was a spare room in the basement. “If you want it, it’s yours,” she told me. I smiled thinking about how mom and I had made a room for Lyn in our old basement. When Lyn moved into the house, I gladly moved all of my belongings in. I came home to Holt and lived with Bradwee Bictor again. My sister saved me, even during one of the most difficult times of her life: she and Jeff could not have children together…at least, not the old fashioned way. I felt extremely disappointed and sad for them. My sister, however, was not down. She was optimistic and said with a little help from science, they were going to try other routes and methods.
During the summer months, I worked door to door jobs with Kelly. The jobs were horrible but Kelly and I became closer than ever before. We hung out on Duck Lake, went on many road trips, and caused trouble around Holt. The door to door jobs were bad but it taught me to not have fear of rejection. In August, I began my second year of college. Lyn and Jeff were expecting. Naturally, we were joyful.
I barely made it through my Sophomore year, the worst year at CMU. I didn’t get along with my roommates, my sister lost the baby, I didn’t do so well in my classes and I had just signed a lease to live with three boys. After the year was over, I went back to Holt.
In May, I received a call from my grandma early on a Thursday morning. I was half asleep in my room, listening to Bradley playing and Jeff taking a shower. It was hard to understand what my grandma was saying. She could barely speak. All she could get out was…your grandpa. I dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom door, yelling for Jeff. Soaking wet, he ran out of the shower with a towel wrapped around him. He went to the phone and I just stood there, shaking. My whole world was crashing down. All I could do was stand there in disbelief as Jeff talked to my aunt on the phone. I looked down to the face of a little four-year-old boy. “Aunt Howee, what’s wrong?”
Jeff got off the phone and explained grandpa wasn’t dead. He had gone in for hip surgery and was given too much morphine. He was in a coma.
My mother and Dean had just moved into a brand new home in Holbrook Hills, the neighborhood behind my sister’s. Mom was recovering from gall bladder surgery. I called and spoke to Dean. I hadn’t spoken to him in almost two years. Jeff dropped me off at their house. Dean gave me my mom’s car keys and $50. He said to call him when I got up to Petoskey and let him know how things were going. He didn’t want to tell mom just yet because he wanted her to get some more rest. I thanked him and began my drive up north.
I cruised up there praying the whole way. “Please, God, don’t let him die. Please, let me get up there. Grandpa, just hold on.” The drive up north is one I will never forget because I felt a sense of peaceful urgency. Tears…calm…pain…peace…sorrow…awe. I made it to the hospital in Petoskey and entered my grandfather’s room. He was snoring, loudly. I smiled but I was scared. It seemed like he was only asleep but I knew he was never coming back. The nurses urged me to talk to him. He made little noises, somewhat acknowledging. I told him how his children were flying in and driving up to be with him. The call had gone out. Grandpa was dying. I stood next to his bed, holding his hand, gazing out the window. The sun was setting on Little Traverse Bay. The whole scene from the hospital was nature at its finest. “What a beautiful place to die,” I thought.
Grandpa held on until each one of his kids, including his youngest (my sister), came to say good-bye. After a week of being in a coma, he slipped away, peacefully. That same day, my friend Monika gave birth to her first son. There isn’t a loss without some small gain, as the saying goes. Another little miracle was in store for our family, too. My sister was pregnant again. While we said goodbye to our grandfather, we madly prayed for the health and safety of the child she carried. This was the last time Lyn and Jeff were going to try. This had to work.
Christmas break arrived and I spent it at my sister’s. Early Christmas morning, the labor pains began. At 1:23 a.m. on December 26, the baby we prayed for was born: Little miss Lyndsay Marie, named after her mother and her aunt. We finally had our little girl.
My final year of college began in 1997. Four years plus one summer and I was almost free. It was fun living on Greek Row. I split my time between classes, the Bird, the house and the Crow Frat house across the street. We did lots of fun things like holding picture composites hostage and forcing the boys to come sing for them back. We had South Park, 90210 and Melrose Place nights. Bar night was every night. Yes, my senior year was a lot of fun.
In February, I realized a couple of things about my life: it was totally going to change in just a few months…and I was scared to death. February was a tough month for my life. I turned 22, was turned down by someone I really liked, my 14-year-old cat died, and Spring Break turned out to be a big, fat joke. But something else happened in February…an event that eventually led me back to God.
