Thoughts from Places: South Bend, Indiana

When my dad told me we were going to the high school band reunion for one of his first teaching jobs, I was a little dubious as to how much fun I would have. I mean, seriously, what kid wants to go have a picnic with old people she's never met before that have embarrassing stories about her father? Well, aside from the latter, it didn't sound completely appealing to me. So today, when my family made the two hour trek, I didn't have very high expectations. It rained almost the whole way there, at one point so hard that cars were pulling over on the highway to wait it out. My brother was grumpy because we'd left at an awkward time so he hadn't eaten anything yet. It was frustrating and nerve wracking, but we made it to our destination at last. It's funny to be driven through a city you haven't been to since you were too young to remember anything by people who remember it from "back in the day". My parents commented on how this or that was still there, and my dad navigated the streets like he'd never left. We finally came to the high school where my dad worked, and he told us how much was added on and where the band practice field used to be. Across from the school was the park where the reunion was being held, and we were greeted amicably and enthusiastically. I shook hands with my dad's former students, band parents, and friends. I heard stories of beer in Happy Meals and bets on when my mom would wise up and break it off with my dad. There were pictures of my dad with actual hair and a mustache, wearing a trench coat or looking slightly high in the school hallway. I was really enjoying myself for a couple of hours, but eventually I got tired and bored of talk that I wasn't really involved in. Like the teenager I am, I found myself attached to my cell phone. I wondered briefly if this would be me in 20 years, talking with my orchestra director and old friends about where we'd been for the past few years and recalling old memories of Mackinac Island trips and concerts gone wrong. After another couple of hours, we left and drove past my dad's old apartment in a rundown looking building and my parent's first house, complete with a new porch the current owners had built. I thought about how strange it is that while I saw a small, red house with a porch and a truck parked out front, my parents saw their first little blue house just down the street from the Notre Dame campus. We then drove around the campus, stopping in at the bookstore and buying the first sweatshirts of the season. I discovered how big Touchdown Jesus actually is, and how a sculpture might make a good place for doing homework. After we'd had our fill of the campus, we went across the street to an Irish Pub, and I was again taken aback by how things can appear to different people. While I saw a modern city street with a Chipoltle and an Urban Outfitters, my dad saw what used to be old houses that students rented out that had become this new University controlled business opportunity. When we were fed, we hopped back in the minivan and headed back home. I again wondered if someday I'd be driving through my hometown or the first place I settled with my kids in the backseat, seeing something different than what I was seeing. Now, I can't imagine anyone else living in my house or the downtown area changing its layout, but someday I'll be driving a minivan painfully slowly down my street, pointing out what used to be mine to my kids who will have a new and different definition of home.