College Girlfriends Weekend Essentials:

Wine √

Comfy Clothes√

Junk Food√

No Makeup√

Wine√

Junk Food√

Sweet Tea √

Wine√

My college girlfriends are coming!  Send up the Bat Signal! Sound the alarms!

This has been a long time in the planning. The group messages, texting, etc. started many months ago. The logistics have been ironed out. It has been over 13 years since ALL of us have been able to get together at one time. Fingers crossed, no last-minute issues will derail this event.

I am calling it the “How the Hell are We Turning 60” weekend. It is stunning to all of us that we have been out of college for……38 years?!?! The march of time continues to astound.

We attended a small, Southern, Christian women’s college in Alabama in the mid 1970’s. Just let all of those things sink in for a minute. From the outside it all looked the perfection of Southern Lady Like Gentility. The classic buildings, the Gone With the Wind staircase where we had our group Step Sings. The student handbook with a sweet smiling girl on the cover, clutching her books to her chest, the magnolia tree in full bloom behind her. Even the haunted elevator in our dorm gave it just the right amount of Southern Gothic charm.We were anything but genteel.

The five of us hoped to break every rule in the student handbook before we graduated. I may be wrong, but except for “No handguns in the dorm” I think we succeeded. (The handbook was specific about it being a Hand Gun. I  assume that rifles and machine guns were acceptable? It is Alabama after all).

Jeans were not allowed in class or on “front campus”. I got caught by the President of the school on that one. He actually called my dorm to report me! Saturday night steak dinner (and more importantly, French Silk Pie) was formal. Yes, an evening gown. Mine was often accessorized with flip-flops and a bandana, but I did technically have on a formal.

Sweetly singing the blessing as all of us stood around the family style tables for meals, we were stabbing our forks into the piece of chicken we wanted. Stabbing it with the fork wasn’t enough to secure your chicken, you had to lick the fork first. 

The real fun was in the next town, which had an Air Force Base.The flyboys were (are) professional partiers. Many nights of racing back through narrow back roads to make curfew. Once, a car full of us were stopped and we ALL started crying and wailing, “Take our licenses, give us ticket, but WE CAN”T MISS CURFEW!” I can still see the amused look on the police officer’s face.

Who could forget the topless sunbathing on the roof? With baby oil. That was a mistake.

Weekly Chapel was mandatory. This meant we checked in at one door and walked out the other. You had to sign out of your dorm at night and get special permission to stay out past curfew or leave for the weekend. There might have been some forging of paperwork involved. We bristled at every rule and requirement  the college laid out for us.

To quote my Mother,  “Your college has been there for 130+ years. It will be there long after you are gone.”

The dean of students did call to confirm I wouldn’t be returning my senior year. The cover story was she needed to re-assign the room.

As with so many times in my life, I had no idea how much fun I was having and the memories being made.

My one regret? I didn’t graduate  with my girlfriends. My father fell ill and I changed my major.  It’s a sentimental regret. I ended up dropping out of college for a while. When I returned to school, I was married and working full-time. I had no interest in going through a graduation ceremony.

 There was the magic of those years with these special friends and it can never be duplicated.

But we are going to try! It will feel a lot like dorm life. Five of us in our condo, sharing two bathrooms. Back in the day it was all primping time and today it’s….well, you know. Someone is drawing the short straw and sleeping on an air mattress in the office. ( Paul has been kicked out for the weekend. I suspect he is happy not to be in the middle of this squeal fest!).

I managed to find a bin labeled “College Crap” in our warehouse, but I haven’t opened it yet. Paul suggested I pre-screen it for anything embarrassing. Isn’t embarrassment part of the college experience? Being unfamiliar with dorm life, he doesn’t understand the lack of privacy, and the gettin’ all in each other’s business that happens.

So it’s the Mystery of the Time Capsule, (which is actually a Rubbermaid bin) a To 60 and Beyond  version of Nancy Drew. Hoping it’s not a dud, filled with school papers and dead flowers. We will be fueled up with spinach dip, red velvet cupcakes and wine, so I’m guessing it will be a party in a box, whatever is in there. Let the squealing, crying and singing begin…….