Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" is blasting in the hall, the shower stalls would look perfectly situated in most Army barracks, the walls are cinder block, and the furniture is 20 years past "distressed."
Replace the popcorn poppers with microwaves, tv antennaes with cable and stereos with CD players. Add a coat of paint and my daughter's dorm looks just like it did when it was my dorm.
It feels oddly unfaithful to not be typing this on a baby blue Smith Corona. I unconsciously reached into my old baggage when I dressed in jeans and a Springsteen t-shirt this morning.
The girls in the hall are brash, shy, perky, cloddy, sweet, loud, generous,annoying and everything else they were when I was one of them.
I have no interest in trying (even if I had the ability) to pass for one of them. I can't guess what the next 25 years will bring for them. Although I recall being so very sure of every eventuality, I was blessedly wrong on every count.
There's a comforting rhythm in still seeing the friars seem to glide over the snowy sidewalks and hearing students discuss the big game tomorrow night against Syracuse.
It reminds me of the time hot-headed Syracuse Coach Jim Boeheim threatened to have me removed from the game for shooting pictures for the school paper too close to his bench. As I picture his ridiculously bad sport coat and think of tomorrow night, I can't help but think... some things really should change.