Lessons Learned: 20 Years Later

A few weeks ago I passed a milestone in my life when I journeyed back to Princeton, NJ to celebrate my 20th college reunion.  I was excited to head back to see old friends, and to show my wife and daughters around a place that meant a lot to me and has, in many ways, shaped my views on what it means to be a “leader.”

It’s hard to put the experience of college into proper perspective.  Yes, it’s only four years.  Yes, my college friends are spread out across the country so I don’t interact with them regularly.  But while the day-to-day presence is long gone, and I admit I have probably forgotten 90 percent of the facts and figures that I learned in my classes, in some ways my college experience is more vivid, more meaningful, and more of an influence on who I am today, than just about any other four-year period in my life.  Much of what I bring to my life at work, at home, and to the community at large, took root on that campus, with the help of that group of friends.

A four-day reunion isn’t nearly enough time to “re-live” it all, but we did our best.  I brought my family to “Hoagie Haven” for a cheesesteak.  I reminisced about the “good old days.” We listened to some great 80s cover bands (I still think 80s music totally rocks).  And I explained some of the unique traditions at Princeton.  (My daughters thought the tradition that you can’t walk out the front gate at the University until you graduate was particularly strange.  Molly defiantly walked through once.  Already a rebel!)

The most meaningful moment of reunions is the big parade… or the “P-rade” as they call it.  This is when alumni and their families walk a parade route through campus, oldest to youngest, dressed in frightfully gaudy orange and black costumes, being cheered for wildly by the other classes.

Not only is the P-rade a great community building event, it is also a walking history lesson.  This year there was a man who came back for his 85th reunion!  He rode on a golf cart dressed in an orange and black blazer, carrying a tiger cane.  My mind raced back to 1925 and imagined what life was like when he first exited the front gates at graduation.

Many marchers carried signs about what was happening during their college years:  wars, civil unrest, the first man on the moon, and, of course, in the case of my class, Milli Vanilli (Oh, and the fall of the Berlin Wall).

As they marched, the all white, male classes slowly started to add some diversity.  The class of 1977 suddenly included women, who handed out stickers touting, “30 years of co-education!”  As my class joined the parade, we walked past the younger and younger graduates and finally through the celebrating class of 2010, who cheered for us with the same sense of history that we had for those before us.

It’s become a cliché to say that college “teaches you how to learn.”  But that’s only part of the equation.  You learn good work habits and analytical skills.  You learn from your professors and advisors.  But for me, some of the most valuable learning came from my classmates.  College exposed me to people from across the country, and around the world.  We stayed up late together, sharing experiences, talking about politics, history, art, music, beer.  We sometimes had heated debates but they always ended in mutual respect and often in laughter.  (To this day I still smile thinking back on one Republican friend’s spot-on impressions of Michael Dukakis).  The perspective I have and my appreciation for other people’s views grew from these four years.

As this year’s graduating classes head out to the world, amidst oil spills, wars, staggering unemployment, and intolerance, I hope they take with them a similar sense of curiosity and perspective.  And I hope their generation will have more success than ours has had in solving these issues, so in 2075, when I’m back for my 85th, riding my solar powered hovercraft, we’ll have more to celebrate than a reunion.

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