Surviving Junior Parents' Weekend
Amy Schill
Dazed and Amused
The years go by so fast. When I first came here as a freshman, I never imagined that one day I would get to experience the joys and the horrors that come with Junior Parents' Weekend. I have never experienced one weekend packed with so much food, music and mass embarrassment. The dinner and brunch were actually both quite lovely, so I can't really make fun of them — well, except for the steak. However, I can mercilessly make fun of my parents and the gala. My parents arrived Friday at noon, and proceeded immediately to increase my stress level exponentially.
Looking at the program of events, my mom was shocked that there wasn't going to be a band at the gala.
Mom: Music by In-Tune DJ Service? You mean there isn't going to be a band?
Me: No, Mom, this isn't the '50s. Dances use DJs now.
Mom: Is he just going to play rock music?
Me: I'm going to stick this ice scraper in my eye.
While my parents went to Meijer to buy milk, alcohol and pants (Mom: They were on sale!), I became more and more apprehensive about this gala. The whole idea seemed so ridiculous to me: a formal dance — with your parents? I don't feel comfortable dancing anywhere near my parents, and I certainly didn't want to see them dance. I began to eye the ice scraper again.
As weird as I thought the gala would be, it turned out to be infinitely weirder. When you walked in, it wasn't a dance at all, but a journey through Notre Dame history, from the log cabin days to the war years to the '60s to today, with each time period represented by its own festive finger food and costumed catering employees (imagine circus lunch, then make it 20 times more insane). What was even crazier than Uncle Sam hugging a hippie (which was very touching), was the presence of meat at the Friday night gala. Apparently, the bishop of Fort Wayne-South Bend granted juniors and their parents a special dispensation from their Friday obligations. Yup, Notre Dame gives a whole new meaning to the term "Cafeteria Catholicism."
With all the costumes, cabins and craziness going on in this throng of people, only one question came to mind: Where's the bar? Now, some people can get through events like this without the aid of alcohol. You've seen these people, always happy, dancing around. They like to call their condition a "natural high." Physicians call it "chemical imbalance." Judging by the mass exodus up the stairs to the bar, I'm proud to say that most Notre Dame juniors and their parents are quite healthy indeed.
Unfortunately, however, the bartender knew how to make only two drinks: gin and tonic and beer. So I settled for one drink and took the rents down to the dance floor, bracing myself for the horrors that were to come. Well, my mom didn't need to be worried about the "rock music." In order to bridge the generation gap between juniors and parents, the DJ decided to play music relevant to neither generation. After two YMCAs and the Macarena, my parents and I decided to say our goodbyes. All in all the gala was definitely and entertaining experience, and at least I didn't have to watch my parents grind.
Amy Schill is a junior English major and Catholic Social Tradition minor. She would like to tell her parents that she loves them and thanks them for always providing helpful material for her columns.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of the Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Monday, February 18, 2002
