I’ve Found a Place I Belong.
My only ambition as a high school student was to drink as often and as much as possible … without getting in trouble. This meant that I needed to find a college far away from my parents where I could drink efficiently without worry.
But I was a wuss. I didn’t want to be too far away, in case I missed them. So I only looked at colleges within a two-hour radius of my Pittsburgh home.
Fortunately, back in the early eighties, the drinking age in some states was 18. I was 17 when I left for college, but legally, I would soon be allowed to buy beer in nearby Ohio. So when considering a college, finding one where the drinking age was 18 was my top priority.
Finding a college where drinking was acceptable on weekdays was a huge bonus. So when I discovered that Mount Union College (now Mount Union University) had parties on Tuesdays because there were no classes on Wednesdays and the drinking age was 18, I was almost sold.
Almost. When I learned that the school colors included my favorite color – purple – I knew Mount Union was my destiny.
Still, I needed to do an overnight stay to be sure. My parents drove me to Ohio and left me to spend the night on campus. My admissions representative, also the literal 1981 Homecoming Queen, hosted me. Until that point, the word “homecoming” had been reserved for popular kids only, and I was definitely not a popular kid. So I was more than a little intimidated when I learned I was spending the night with the reigning queen.
As luck would have it, Belinda offered to take me out drinking. I have no idea what we drank, where we drank, what we did, or who drank with us. I remember feeling like I was part of the crowd – something I never, ever felt before. The homecoming queen treated me like royalty, in a way I truly appreciated.
We drank and laughed and drank and laughed until I thought: Finally. I’ve found a place I belong.
And I had. For four years, I belonged at that college. But it was a loooong four years. My naive feeling of belonging evolved into an ignorant rebellion against authority – and everything I did revolved around drinking, both on and off campus.
Many, many stories would follow.
When I started telling my story via this blog, I didn’t realize how very many stories I had to tell. The next six years of my life stand out as the most impossible, terrifying, thrilling, saddest and sickest of my life.
Mom, Dad, if you want to stop reading the blog, now is the time. Nothing I did in college made my parents proud. And yet, this is the story I have to tell.