Return to Ithaca

There's nothing quite like walking into the bandroom and being greeted by freshmen with "Oh, you're THE legendary Crystal! We're so honored to be able to play with you!"

Or, being greeted by Dan with "So, when you said you were coming to town, I decided to write you a fanfare, a Fanfare for Crystal! Alas, I didn't quite finish it in time, but the first few bars are really cool...you're going to need a good subwoofer to listen to this."

I trekked back to Cornell for homecoming last weekend, and it was a whirlwind experience. Cornell is not a big football school at all, but as a former bandie, the weekend still holds significance as a period for retrospection. Alums come back to visit, steal your instrument to play "Pinball Wizard," and relive their hedonistic college days by drinking your alcohol. You try not to feel too disgruntled, with the promise that you too can come back in four years and be welcomed with open, band uniform-clad arms. This is a superior version of the circle of life, really.

It has been almost four months since I was last in Ithaca, a mere blip in time, but the changes are palpable. The Thurston bridge has reopened, and is strung with shockingly bright white LED lights. The parking lot between Bailey and Malott has been replaced by a flagstone plaza with oddly orange-y benchs and a overhang fountain on the southern end. Construction is beginning on a new building between Baker and Rockefeller. But wait, you say, there's no space for a building there. On the contrary, it looks like they're taking out a good chunk of the Baker lawn to put up this building. I mean, perhaps Clark is ugly and we should hide it behind another building, but still. Finally, I made a beeline to the clocktower as soon as I could, and was much dismayed to discover that my id card no longer works on the office door. For the last 3 years, the tower office was my one sure refuge on campus, always warm and open, filled with a frig, a couch, and a nice Mac. And now, that door is permanently closed to me.

Yet, despite the physical differences and the ever-present alarm that my time was limited, I was able to recapture some of that undergraduate zeitgeist, the animated intellectualism, the quirky vivacity that permeates Cornell and makes the abnormal normal. I sat in Stella's and discussed objects with non-integer dimension with Rhea, I hauled myself to the clocktower at 10:15 to chime the alma mater variations with Jen, I sang songs from "A Chorus Line" with Matt at 3 am, I watched a football game with 7 years worth of drumline members and still had the music to "Carry On My Wayward Son" memorized.

It was over in the blink of an eye, and I found myself scrambling at the end of Sat night, giving hasty goodbyes just 24 hours after long-awaited hellos. At 8 am the next morning, I jetted back to Chicago. It was cold and drizzling. I was in mourning.

I kept telling people I'd "see you later," but who knows when that will be? 6 months? A year? A decade?? Let's face it, this weekend was great because I found the familiarity of people and places I'd loved, but even a year from now, that might not be the case any more. People will graduate, move away, and move on with their lives. But at least for this one weekend, the magic was still there.

I realize I am extraordinarily lucky to have a job I love in a place I love. Catching up with the '007 crew, it's all too common to see people bored with their jobs, and worried about where their lives are going. When I flew away from Ithaca, at least I had something positive to come home to.

It still felt like I was ripping away a little piece of my heart.