Reunion Reflection

Last weekend, I attended my 15-year reunion at St. Bonaventure University in Olean, NY. I was excited. It had been five years since I had been on campus. There were people coming I had not seen in five years, like my first friend at Bona's, Mike. I was going to see Jay, who I have not seen since my wedding day, almost 14 years ago. I was going to see Moritz, who I have not seen since graduation 15 years ago. I was pumped.

The weekend was everything I could have hoped for and more. St. Francis himself must have smiled down, as warm, bright sunshine bathed a verdant campus, instead of the thunderstorms that were in the forecast. Jay, his wife Diane (not a Bona grad) and I took the walking tour led by a personable young man from the student body. Ooohs and aaahs were made.

Campus has both changed and not changed, which I find reassuring. All the buildings are there, comforting in their red-brick solidness, inspiring in the fresh paint and renovations. The massive study tables in the library are still there (oh, the hours I spent there), but the long couches in the back are gone, replaced by a bank of new computers. Plassmann Hall, where I spent countless hours, still houses the arts and humanities departments, but a new Starbucks kiosk lives on the first floor, and the 1950s desk-n-chair combos have been replaced by more group-oriented furniture. De La Roche sports a shiny new annex - and the lion's head fountain in front, which was completely non-functional when I was a student, pours water into a clean basin housing several fish. Butler Gym has been cleaned up, a state-of-the-art fitness center lives next to the Riley Center (complete with climbing-wall), the hallway between Robinson and Falconio halls has been replaced by a brick courtyard, Hickey Dining Hall has been totally renovated, and a lovely little cafe, Cafe La Verna has been added on to the back. Good thing it didn't exist back in the early 90s; I might never have made it to class.

As we walked, we reminisced. The old post office, the first year the Quick Arts Center opened (I was part of the inaugural performance in the Rigas Theater, a student-led production of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"). Jay and I marveled at the size of rooms in Dev; we swore they had gotten bigger - or at least cleaner. We wandered down Third Doyle, remembering who had lived where, and what we had done in each room.

Saturday night at dinner, Moritz led me down more lanes of memory. I had forgotten the night she and I had scared the pants off most of the BonaVenture newspaper staff by going into the RC gym and screaming at the top of our lungs (hey, we'd had six consecutive page layout proposals rejected, and it was 2:00 in the morning - we were a little punchy). We remembered the basketball games. Jay swears they all blur together, but I clearly remember the two of us clutching each other in the stands when SBU beat Temple University in double-overtime, the first win over the Owls in over a decade, praying that the Temple players would miss their free throws and preserve our lead.

Friday and Saturday nights Jay, Mike and I did what we'd done for so many nights; we grabbed something to drink and retired to Jay's room to talk. Past, present, and future, it was no-holds-barred. It was wonderful. The years melted away nearly as fast as the night. I stayed up later and consumed more alcohol that weekend than I have in a long time.

And I saw the friars - Fr. Dan Riley, and Fr. Peter Schneible, still wonderful men, who exemplify what it means to be truly caring. Older, perhaps, but reassuring in their brown and white habits, still interested in us and our lives. Fr. Bernie, still toting the 35mm camera on a strap over his shoulder. I have no idea what he took pictures of, but I never saw him without his camera when I was a student. I smiled at the vision.

The weekend was not without its sorrow. We remembered, with a pang of regret, Fr. Dan Hurley, OFM, who passed away in May of this year. Hurls was a part of Bonaventure for so many years. Old when I was a student, it seemed as though he would always be there, even if intellectually I knew he wouldn't be. His gentle presence pervaded the weekend. I learned with great sorrow about the death of Joy Kwasniak, a member of the women's basketball team and a 1995 grad. She had died several years ago of a rare eye cancer. Moritz put it best; Joy's name fit her perfectly. Not one of the best basketball players, and not a top scorer, she was nevertheless a fantastic player who could be counted on to give her all, both on and off the court. As a student reporter on the women's basketball beat, I could count on Joy for a solid interview, regardless of the results on the court.

And as I stood in the University Chapel on Sunday, the place where I had first come to feel God's love in my life, singing a hymn based on Francis's "Canticle," I felt a sharp pang of longing, a twinge of envy for the current student body, and a tear in my eye. Although impossible, for a moment I longed to go back to a simpler time, when my most stressful problem was getting up in time for my 8:00 class.

Standing on the lawn behind Friedsam Memorial Library on Saturday afternoon, the RC on my left, Plassmann on my right, it all flooded back. It seemed like no time at all had passed between the day I was pronounced a daughter of Bonaventure forever, and that moment in the sun. Looking up into the green lushness of Merton's Heart, far up in the mountains, I realized that the "Magic Mountains" really were magic.

Everybody has a place that is a touchstone, a place that left an indelible mark on your soul. The place that cast the mold of your life, and where you go back to touch the foundation, not only to remember what has been, but to dream of what is to come. That is St. Bonaventure.

"Bonaventure," means "good journey," and that is what the University calls our path when we set foot on campus as freshmen. It is a journey that does not end at graduation, but the Bona staff hopes that your "good journey" in college, prepares you for the "good journey" of life.

My "good journey" continues. I do not know where it will take me tomorrow. But it is comforting to know that if I ever feel lost, Bonaventure will be that touchstone, that guide post on the journey, to help set my feet to the path again.

To all current and future Bonaventure grads, I wish you the same. May your "good journey," fill you with joy, peace, and strength.

Pax et Bonum.