"But whyyyyyyyy"

There was once a much-loved professor at Simpson, who in response to any number of answers given by his students---would pause and retort, "But whyyyy?" Now, you have to put yourself in that classroom to fully understand the effect. He hadda deeeeee-yup, syrupy, Suthun' drawwwwwl. The kind where every "worrr-uddd" had at least two syllables, even the short ones. The kind that made you want to curl up next to a fireplace and just listen to bedtime stories with a nice brew of hot cocoa- not the cheap, lumpy, is this just brown water kind- but the oh man, this is the good stuff kind. So anyway, put yourself in that time, and imagine those words again- say it with me now "But whyyyyy?"

Well, I (and other bloggers) have often written about my insane jealousy at the students that currently get to call Simpson home. Did you ever think to ask, "But whyyyyy?"

I'll try to concisely (OK, scratch that- I'm never concise in my blogs) tell you whyyyyy I miss it so. This past weekend marked the beginning of fall. The beginning of falling leaves, football games, chili in the crock pot, pumpkin patches, midterms, harvest season and "oh man, please let us delay winter just awhile longer!" Yesterday I woke up and faced a beautiful day- 60 degrees and sunny. Perfect. I celebrated by going for a walk. What I saw made my heart just ache. It was one of those moments where I almost lose my breath. I always make my way toward campus when I walk, and I did just that. The sun was glimmering through the trees and the huge maple leaves whispered in the breeze. It was mostly quiet, it was after all, 7 AM on a college campus- and let's face it, college students aren't exactly famous for being early birds. But there were two students. They were strolling through the campus, just winding through the brick sidewalks. They both had on big, comfy Simpson sweatshirts, the kind that you keep forever- no matter how nappy and holey and stained they get. Mine is 10 years old this year and I still wear her. (her name is Beatrice- don't ask....) The waistband is almost severed from its host- but none-the-less- she's mine and we're in it for the long haul!

Anyway, they both had on worn jeans. They held hands, college sweethearts just soaking up the day. No papers, no tests, no bills, no worries. They lazily strolled, with no purpose but the journey itself. I just got caught up in the beauty of the moment- watching them "BE" just as thousands before them had been. Some young couple would have strolled just like that 150 years ago, well, trade in the comfy jeans for a fitted bodice and flouncy skirt, maybe some nice tweed knickers or something? But they are part of the history of Simpson, whether they know it or not. Where they go, what they do, how they spend their lives- it's just as much a part of the history as each worn brick that shapes the architecture of the campus. Maybe it doesn't make sense to you? Maybe you have to experience it, see it, know it or live it to understand how a place can be so dear to my heart? Or, maybe I should just can it with the sentimentality and go back to being a wise-acre???? I do have a reputation to uphold you know!