Bittersweet memories of Notre Dame plague alumnus
Mike Marchand
Undistinguished Alumnus
I realized something last week when I was walking around campus, watching students hustle to classes and catch up with each other after summer break.
My life sucks.
Those of you who know me personally or are long-time fans of my column (all three of you) will know that this is not an unusual statement for me to make. For years I've jokingly referred to myself as "God's toilet" because it seems sometimes like I have the worst luck in the world. Last year at about this time I wrote a column about how I had the "summer from hell" because my grandmother died and my friend had an abortion. This past summer was hardly better; I was involved in a car accident the day after commencement and my dog died.
Then, of course, there's my ongoing struggle to find permanent employment in a job market more volatile than my father's stomach after two bowls of chili. But it's more than that now. My life is just — boring.
I miss the unmistakable buzz that charges the campus when everyone returns from summer, the first couple days of classes that let out after 30 minutes or so but you still recognize right away that the class will either be really great or excruciatingly boring, chicken nugget day at the dining hall, learning the words to the Alma Mater and even more things I took for granted when I was here, thinking they were all part of humdrum student life.
Now, of course, I'm no longer a student and I miss it terribly. Even the act of walking around campus felt hollow and strange, some other-dimension trek where all the experiences I had were right in front of me but unavailable, like going back to somewhere you once knew and finding it completely different than the way you remembered it.
I miss picking up The Observer every day to find out about essential campus events. I would have liked to attend FlipStock, but I had no idea when the hell it was until it was too late. I could have begged Regis Philbin for money when he helped break ground on the performing arts center but I didn't hear about it until after he'd already gotten out of town. Yeah, I know, I could have looked at the online version of The Observer to get in the know, and I have a couple of times, but it's just not the same as seeing the white van with the Cubs and Bulls bumper stickers and grabbing the first issue out of the stack.
I figured the frivolity of Rally in the Alley might cure my boredom and malaise but I forgot one crucial factor: I turned 21 in July, so the drinking was just not as fun. I didn't even have to make a hasty exit when the cops showed up.
And I was hoping that being an alumnus would give me that special charm or savoir-faire that might impress people I chatted with, especially the ladies. But it didn't really help, mostly because when I explained that I'd already graduated, it came with that load of melodrama about how much I miss Notre Dame and how I'm unemployed and a small fortune in debt. Three or four times the women I was hitting on walked away from me when I was in the middle of my monologue. OK, so that really didn't happen, but it could have.
Saturday night I was at a cousin's wedding reception, and the fact that a Notre Dame football game was going on was nagging me all night. It was the first time I hadn't watched a game in its entirety in about four years. Everyone questioned my visible anxiety and several times I had to correct myself because I said "I'm a student" instead of "I'm an alumnus." I don't know how I'm going to feel at kickoff time against Michigan State, with seemingly everyone in the stadium except me. I hope I don't cry. I also hope I don't cry after the game, but that's a different story altogether.
I'm getting e-mails from my friends that have moved on, enjoying themselves and their careers in exciting places like Boston, Chicago and San Francisco and I'm almost embarrassed to reply that yes, I'm still in South Bend and no, I don't have a job yet and yes, pity me, poor poor me. But I am vindicated by the realization that everyone else I know probably has the same bittersweet sensations about Our Lady's University. The only thing that makes me different from the rest of them is because I haven't yet found something to help me move on, like a job. Hopefully someone is reading this who can do something about that.
That means you, Regis.
Mike Marchand, class of 2001, is currently attempting to write for both RealClearPolitics and The Politix Group. If you see him panhandling in front of the JACC next week, it means he didn't get either gig. He can be reached by e-mail at Marchand.3 @nd.edu. His column appears every other Monday.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Monday, September 10, 2001
