It's that time of year again. The masses have returned. Over the past several days, the primary demographic in local restaurants has morphed from mostly older couples and families with young children to collegiate groups and families who appear to be dropping their pride and joy off to embark on a first or subsequent year of academic pursuits. Yes, it's been Crazy Town Days and I suppose that since classes begin tomorrow, the last remaining parents are now on their way back home. I have managed to avoid town the past several days, as well as the key locations like Wal-mart (well, let's be honest - I avoid that place 24/7/365!), Target, Wegmans and Giant. I purposely did not schedule any clients past noon on Friday because the terror of this particular weekend last year has never diminished - when a young man rode his bike across the street into which I was trying to make a left-hand turn, with the sun in my eyes. I have often said I never want to be the reason for a tragic phone call home, and that day came closer to that nightmare than I ever care to be.
There's another reason I have avoided getting caught in the hubbub of the collegiate immigration. I am very sensitive to the emotion that overtakes me when I see families helping their kids move in, and the tearful hugs goodbye, or watching the dynamic of the farewell meals. Student is chattering, smiling, possibly talking to a friend or sibling, while Mom or Dad sit listening, but a bit glazed over, perhaps a wistful smile on their face and I know they are hardly hearing what their young adult is saying. They are recounting milestones, first steps, baseball and soccer victories, playing board games, homework struggles, proud moments in the audience of a performance, first dates, family vacations and worrying how their kid is going to manage without them and fearing that their kid is going to manage without them just fine. I am faced with my own memories and tears at these times, but these days, my heart is tugged in a different direction when I witness these scenarios. Because of my work, I am privy to the great heartache these young adults may face when they make choices that would break these parents' hearts. I shed tears with the young ladies who cannot count the number of boys they have "hooked up" with and cannot understand what is wrong with them that they have been discarded, or why they feel so depressed. I hear stories of being turned away from fraternity parties because they are overweight. I witness the pain of being rejected by a sought after Greek organization and how they just don't think they can stay here if they are not wanted by that specific group of people. I listen as young men speak of watching the weekend morning Walk of Shame/Walk of Fame as an entertainment activity. I watch girls stumble on the sidewalks of downtown in the evening in stiletto heels and spandex skirts that leave little to the imagination. Stories of drinking to pass out and how roommates capture sexual encounters on their cell phone and send it out on snap chat for hundreds to see and cannot understand why the girl in the photo is upset. I extend compassion to the tearful disclosure that a diagnosis of an STD has just been received. I feel disappointed to hear the stories that even Thon carries with it a great deal of social rejection, popularity competition and a LOT of alcohol as all the organizations that work to plan it are in and of themselves social organizations that do a lot of drinking together. The list goes on. I tell my clients there is nothing they can tell me that is going to shock me. And I guess I'm a bit sad that it doesn't shock me anymore. But I want them to be honest. I want them to feel safe and accepted. I hope to help them understand that their choices do not define them. But their choices often make me cry tears of my own. The notion that "what happens in college stays in college" is prevalent and it is difficult get them to realize and accept that consequences of what will supposedly stay in college will actually accompany them for a long time to come.
So for all those moms and dads hugging the dear ones they have raised - obviously successfully if they have ended up here - I offer a silent prayer that their beloved child is able to rise above the muck and mire that takes hold of so many. I hope for them that the one they are entrusting to the ginormous machine on the hill has an unbelievably good year of academic success, true and lasting friendship, character development and respect for this place and its people, and pride in the institution for all the right reasons. And when the cries of "We Are..." begin echoing in the distance, I will try to focus on a picture larger than the scenes painted in conversation within my office. And you know what? As much as I want and need for my business to thrive, I would hope for the sake of those proud hopeful parents that I never meet their kids anywhere but in passing at the Waffle Shop.
