By: Caroline Murphy
COLUMNIST
It is that time of year again: the occasion when we open our doors to some wayward Saints. The time of year where it is completely and almost expected that we play Diddy’s “I’m Coming Home.”
It is Homecoming.
Gird your loins people. It is a bender weekend. (I hope I do not have to spend time explaining what a bender weekend is. It is simple science really.)
This weekend is like Parents Weekend, but the people who show up on Friday, know you are hung-over and are not bringing you cookies. No, these visitors, these alumni, bring needy livers and dreams of free popcorn.
I live in a single. It is nice. A big bed, good lighting…the works really. I have had five people make reservations for my room. So, I just went out and bought pillow mints and new towels.
The great thing about Homecoming is that, unlike Parents Weekend, you do not have to try. These people know us. Yes, our parents know us, but they do not know, know us. They do not know that you stay up on Saturday nights till 4:30 a.m. commentating the entirety of Mulan, only to realize that the movie actually is not on mute. Because unlike our parents, these people have literally been us.
These Saints have been here, and have gone through the pearly white gates. They have sipped Pedialyte at 9:30 a.m. on a Sunday in May. They have been here and done it, and now, they are back.
There is nothing like watching alumni get their groove back. They strut through Dana without a second thought. Their hands shoot up for more drinks at the Hoot. They find love in a hopeless, yet newly renovated place (holler, Ticker, holler.)
They are reborn. Their past is their future, if only for a day or two. They come from far and wide. The smell of mac and cheese bites dances in their heads as they make the drive up Route 87.
It does not matter if the Saint next in line for corn hole is class of ’81 or class of ‘14; they have been through the wilderness. They deserve a handshake and an Advil in the morning.
This weekend is not a sprint, but a marathon; one that no one has trained for, but will still somehow finish (perhaps with less dignity and even less money.)
I will not tell my stories of past Homecomings, but I bet we all have them. At least my fellow upperclassmen may. These are our friends, our comrades, our people, and they are coming back.
It is like Army General of the Persian Gulf War Norman Schwarzkopf said: “It takes a hero to be one of those men [women] who goes into battle.” This weekend is a battle, and heroes will be made throughout the hours. Many of us will pick up our friends, and carry them home. Others will call sober rides just to get from the suites to the top of the quad. And some of us will run a makeshift hostel. Heroes will be made on both sides.
I will keep this article short and sweet (because if I want to be able to tdfw this weekend, then I gotta get in the lab, meaning the lib, meaning Gilmore Girls.) To my fellow current Saints: open your hearts once again to the possibility of what Homecoming may hold for you. To our returning Saints: Welcome home. We have been expecting you.
Enjoy your Homecoming weekend everyone!