Last semester, prior to Notre Dame's final home football game, Observer editor in chief Mike Connolly described how he would awaken early, relish every second of the pre-game activities and the game, then remain in the stadium until the gates were locked. For all we know, he may still be sitting in the stands savoring his final moments as a student spectator.

For most seniors this semester draws to a close the unique experience that is Notre Dame. I learned how to better appreciate and stretch each moment during my last semester on campus. Decades later, my conscience efforts to remember my final semester have given me a more fulfilling life full of awareness — both at Notre Dame as well as after graduation.

Concentration can extend a minute beyond 60 seconds. Seize a moment to look long and hard at your surroundings and into the faces of your teachers, classmates, dining hall personnel, campus police, roommates. Make a mental note of appreciation for a friend's quirkiness, savvy or uniqueness. Drink in the cool spring breezes on campus or a colorful sunset on the horizon. Stop to scrutinize the habits of a campus squirrel.

Decades from now you will not need to flip through old photographs that vaguely remind you of your college years. Rather, you can enrich your being by recalling many wonderful remembrances, along with an occasional heartbreaking recollection. Your new awareness will open your senses to better appreciate and substantiate others throughout your lifetime.

I last saw my father two weeks before his passing, yet I can replay an entire weekend in my mind. On Friday we attended the unearthing of a time capsule he buried 25 years prior. We took the dogs to a nursery where we bought flowers and planted them around the house on Saturday. I took his picture late that afternoon with my new digital camera, the last photograph ever snapped of him, on our front porch. We attended Mass on Sunday and then visited a funeral home to pay our respects to an old family friend. As I waved good-bye from the road on that Mother's Day Sunday, he waved back from the porch. It was the last time I saw him alive.

While time may have fuzzied my feelings of doubt and frustration over leaving the country club atmosphere of college, I have forever burned into my mind many memories of funny incidents and mischief. My Imus-like programs on WVFI radio were cutting edge for the time and got me canceled in mid-semester. I can still see and hear my sidekick, a freshman named Kevin Walsh, who passed away eight years after our show.

My surprise February birthday party featured a keg of beer (yeah folks, these times were back in the day). We used the entire third floor of Lyons Hall where the keg and food resided on the archway side of the floor while the music and dancing extended throughout the remainder of the hallways. Unlike many of my fellow hall residents, I remember the entire evening because of my effort to savor that event. Most of the others, because of our unique thriftiness in preparing for the party, only remember how the dining hall contributed 10 pounds of cheese, balogna, salami, several loafs of bread, boxes of crackers and a couple industrial sized boxes of potato chips and peanuts.

When a 50-something degree spring breeze blows through my Washington, D.C. window, I feel a Notre Dame breeze that reminds me of our firecracker commando raids against the St. Mary's shuttle bus. I relive an all-nighter just before Easter and a spring dance at St. Mary's College. Those moments will never leave me. They are rekindled when I hear "Dancing in the Moonlight." They are as vivid today as the nights we danced, conducted our sorties or crammed for a mid-term test.

Many of my classmates cannot recall these moments. They seem to have lost their collegiate memories when they moved on to another stage of their lives. Some are not as much fun anymore. They cannot separate from their personal, professional and family responsibilities without a martini or pill. Yet despite their changes, I have locked them forever into my mind as they once were when we shared our youth.

We have, on a daily basis, opportunities to change our lives. Beginning today, each one of us can expand our appreciation of our surroundings and of those with whom we live. While it takes concentration, dedication and effort, it is never too soon to burn our experiences onto the CD of our minds. That comprehension can construct a fulfilling existence.

Mike Connolly had the right idea about savoring his last home football game. He can forever relive that day with excitement and fond memories. If he concentrates as much on other events and persons throughout his life, he will savor many national championship moments.

Gary J. Caruso, Notre Dame class of '73, served in President Clinton's administration as a Congressional and Public Affairs Director. His column appears every other Friday, and his Internet address is Hottline@aol.com.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

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