On Friday, February 14, 2003, I struggled with a pile of sheets,
blankets and a comforter as I made my way up to the top bunk.
My roommate came in carrying a shopping bag. Our friends passed
by dragging vacuums. I made my bed for the first time in God only
knows how long. My roommate traded in her trademark punk attire
for an evening dress and high-heels. The apocalypse? No. Junior
Parents Weekend had arrived, and we juniors enthusiastically prepared
for our parents' arrival. We welcomed them into our dorm rooms,
into the Notre Dame Family, into our college lives. It was less
emotionally draining than Freshman Orientation weekend and less
rushed than the typical football game visit. It was a time to
celebrate both our appreciation for our parents and our life here
at school. I hosted my valentines, Mom and Dad, for a weekend
unlike any other I've experienced here.
On Friday evening, parents trickled into our hall, where we eagerly
greeted them and the care packages our thrilled mothers bore.
There were hugs and kisses and never-ending introductions. My
parents, Pat and Jack, though visibly weary from their 11-hour
drive, were troopers. They convened with my friends' parents in
our Lewis residence hall social space, where we enjoyed a dinner
catered by Olive Garden. We laughed as we watched our parents
mingle, marveling at their attempts to master names and faces.
After dinner, we drove en masse to the "Bright Lights of the
Big City" Gala. Surrounded by men and women in
suits and dresses, I felt as though I was taking my parents to
prom -- and by choice! We had been socializing
for a few hours, working our way through the Joyce Center, when
my father, who was very excited, tapped my shoulder. At his earnest
request we cornered Father Malloy and posed for a photograph.
My dad was absolutely beside himself, though saddened to find
out Monk's basketball career ended "when Michael Jordan's did
. . . the first time." I have this creeping suspicion that when
I go home this May, I will find a framed picture of "The Armstrongs
and Monk" positioned between our family portraits. My friend and
I ended the evening by burning up the dance floor as our sleep-deprived
parents watched.
On Saturday, Lewis Hall held a luncheon, which gave us the opportunity
to share a dorm meal -- very reminiscent of the brunch we enjoyed
during Freshman Orientation. It is hard for me to imagine a time
when this same group of Lewisites consisted of strangers, rather
than close-knit friends. After lunch my parents snuck away for
some quiet time alone at the grotto. It was a much-appreciated
break from the other activities. Whereas as we usually celebrate
Mass in our dorm chapels, on Saturday evening we joined other
juniors, parents and faculty for Mass in the Joyce Center and
a post-service dinner.
After dinner, we took our parents for a wild night out on the
town. That is, we "rocked out" with other juniors at the College
Football Hall of Fame. Though clad in knee-high boots and a skirt,
I challenged my parents to some of the athletic games downstairs.
I had a blast trying to complete more passes and move more tackling
dummies than my dad. Upstairs my friends were all over the dance
floor, which was lined with tired mothers and terrified fathers.
I cajoled my exhausted mom into dancing with me and my friends.
Soon Dad joined us. Later, I witnessed my parents dancing to Madonna
and then Bon Jovi. As I told my brother Kevin the next day, that
in itself was enough entertainment to last a lifetime.
The party could have been mistaken for any other high-school
or college graduation party. However, at the very end, the DJ
played the booming "Notre Dame Victory March." Students and parents
clapped as, in true Notre Dame fashion, a junior cheerleader was
catapulted into the air by a teammate, and the leprechaun did
his characteristic head bob and dance. Those few minutes, like
several others over the weekend, forced me to acknowledge that
everything about me and my friends here is inextricably bound
to both my biological family and the new one we have established
here at school.
After the Sunday brunch, as my parents braced themselves for
a drive into a blizzard and I braced myself for a return to reality,
we hugged and kissed goodbye. I was sad to see them go but grateful
for the opportunity to laugh, eat, pray and party with them and
my friends. In just a little over a year, I will reluctantly walk
away from this University at graduation, but it is comforting
to know that I will share the company of my parents, my friends
and their parents as we move onto the next chapters of our lives.
* * *
March 2003
