I wasn’t looking to return to my past life (always a risky enterprise) when we went to my daughter, Lily’s, Junior High All-State choral concert. But it was inevitable when the music festival was held at the high school in Cortland, NY—the town where I went to college in the mid ‘80s.

I hadn’t been back to the college or town (which I had never realized is actually classified as a city) since graduating in 1989, choosing to cruise past on I-81 when travelling upstate.

But there we were touring up Thompkins Street past the big, antique mansions converted to fraternity and sorority houses. And soon we found ourselves on the SUNY campus with its large playing fields and gyms. Founded in 1868 as the Cortland Normal School, the college became the Cortland State Teacher’s College in 1941 and then a charter member of the SUNY system in 1948.

We drove by my freshman dorm (Cheney Hall), which was connected to a dining hall (Brockway Hall) through a tunnel. At Brockway, I discovered Captain Crunch—my breakfast for months when I first started school. I haven’t touched it since.

I realized now that the original dorms like Cheney and DeGroat Halls located “on the top of the hill” are pretty buildings. They are old buildings, covered with ivy. The newer dorms down the hill are modern high rises with “suites” where six girls lived together with a common living area and bathroom.

It’s funny the things I remember (having tried to forget some of it). The names of buildings came back to me—Dowd Fine Arts, where my writing group met. (I was editor of the literary magazine for a time.) Also, Old Main, which housed the English department, Corey Union, and the Miller Building, where the tuition was paid.

Of course many of the stores on Main Street have changed, but I recognized a few survivors—Frank and Mary’s Diner, the Dark Horse Tavern, and The Hollywood (a favorite Italian restaurant, started in the 1940s). The local newspaper, The Cortland Standard, endures. The hospital, where I worked in the kitchen, has been expanded. But I couldn’t locate Spiro’s Diner, where I worked the rollicking night shift—waiting on the “bar-rush” crowd that came in after closing time.

I was a bit out of place during my college years; in fact I didn’t know what I was doing. I was an English major but elected not to pursue becoming a teacher. No doubt a wise choice, but it’s all a jumble of “could haves and would haves” now.

But how fortunate I was to have gone there; I received a wealth of experience and education. I made lasting friends. I think of my son Sam, who will take the SAT in the spring and is starting to look at colleges. In an increasingly difficult job market, I hope he has more wherewithal than I did. I think of all the kids struggling to pay back their college debts and realize how lucky I was to have had the scholarships and aid that I did.

As for my daughter’s concert, it was lovely. The chorus sang a variety of songs including some folk songs in Spanish and an adaption of the Dickinson poem “Hope is the thing with feathers….” About 335 students from 42 school districts participated in the regional concert. My daughter had a great time and enjoyed the more serious musical atmosphere. I hope we will go back next year.