zou

173:365

Went back to the alma mater today for a symposium. So much development since I graduated in 1996 that I barely recognize the campus.

Jesse Hall still looks the same though, and I spied its beautiful top around the corner of the alumni center where we were.

I wish I would have had more time to check out my old haunts. Neff Hall, and Walter Williams. Shakespeare's. The Chinese lions.

I'm pretty sure my old, beloved apartment building was razed to make way for a multi-level parking garage. And probably my favorite Italian joint across the street and next to my laundromat.

One of my favorite profs died last year. The one for whom I TA'd and who gave me my first martini. He was Old School, from the days of Madison Avenue ad agencies and three martini lunches and a fondness for Hemingway. I adored him. Although I could never figure out the Hemingway fascination as I don't particularly care for his style. He walked with me during my honors convocation. My prof, not Hemingway.

I guess things change and I generally think change is good, except when I wax nostalgic and it's not.

Mizzou holds so much for me. It's where I really came into my own. I transferred in knowing no one. I was one of a million students on campus. I learned who I was, and what I was capable of (it takes tenacity to get The World's Finest School of Journalism to accept a floundering engineering transfer student), and what I wanted. I learned that it's fun to attend the foreign movie nights in the basement of the library, and that I had no issues going alone. I learned to ignore the homeless guys sleeping in my lobby on cold winter days, and the compassion to not call the landlord to come kick them out (they were harmless, although usually intoxicated).

And yes, I learned how to write, although looking back that was secondary to the life lessons Mizzou imparted.

Oh Mizzou! I shall always love you!