College Reunion
Plus Doodad Farm in Greensboro July 25th & 4th Sunday Salon returns next month!
Hamilton College, O Beloved of my budding adulthood years.
A few weeks ago I was invited to return to my alma mater and perform at my 30th class reunion. Walking around campus created a tidal wave of emotions, reminding me just how much this little college on a hill shaped me when I was just starting out as an artist.
North Dorm was where I was first “discovered” as a singer. Late freshman year when I was working out the vocals to some Motown classics in the dorm shower (as you do), a passing RA overheard and yelled into the steamy chamber that I had a great voice and should audition for the campus women’s a cappella group.
I took her advice and auditioned. The group was called Special K, a reference to Kirkland Women’s College which, from 1968-1978 had stood on its own, across the road from the then all-male Hamilton. Kirkland was an experimental institution: no grades, no majors. Students received evaluations and designed their own courses of study. Professors lived on campus. Classes were interactive and students participated in governing the college. In other words, it sounds progressive, egalitarian, and community oriented. It sounds crazy and it sounds great. Sadly, Kirkland struggled with funding issues and a hefty dose of sexism from the people in charge on the Hamilton side. Eventually the little beacon of feminism was absorbed into Hamilton in what many considered a hostile takeover in 1978. The bad feelings lingered for many of the Kirkland alums, as did the painting of all things Kirkland as weird, witchy and threatening. Even when I was there, the Kirkland side of campus was referred to as “the dark side”. Naturally, that was the side I was drawn to live and spend most of my time on.
I know I’m digressing. But Kirkland had been on the edge of something cool and I like to think Special K retained some of that feminist bent.
Performing with Special K was how I first learned to sing onstage. Students and professors would pack the chapel for our concerts. Singing harmonies with no outside accompaniment, as well as having to step forward and own myself onstage was, for a future singer-songwriter, an irreplaceable education in itself.
A suite in MacIntosh Hall was where I learned my first guitar chords. They were taught to me by my suite-mate, Gabe Unger, a lover of all things songwriter-y and a music impresario-in-training. Gabe later became first manager, once we graduated. In high school I’d discovered a love for short story writing and now, with a couple chords under my belt, and a little bit of public singing practice, I had the tools to turn those stories into songs.
A mentor at the Writing Center taught me a valuable lesson while helping me edit a short story for my Creative Writing Minor. I started to express an idea then stopped myself - “I don’t know…” I said. “No,”she said, “Say it, ‘cause it’s gonna be great.“ That was brilliant advice - not because she thought I was a genius, but because she got me to say the thing, whether or not it was great, making way for whatever needed to be said to come out without my inner critic stopping it.
Fillius Events Barn was where I saw dozens of brilliant songwriters perform, thanks to Gabe who had, by my senior year started the Acoustic Coffeehouse series that still runs there. I sat in the audience, entranced by the likes of Ani DiFranco, Shawn Colvin, Vance Gilbert, Dar Williams and I knew: this is what I want to do with my life. That series was where I first got to open for some of those folks, too. Although it feels foggy in my memory, talking to my classmates at the reunion, it seems like I performed there quite a number of times.
Seeing my classmates was fascinating and entertaining. These people were and are creative, dynamic, absurdly funny. I saw my college sweetheart, someone who taught me what it means to really show up for a relationship and support a partner. I had no idea at the time how rare that was. I can only fully appreciate it now.
There’s something sacred about being around people who saw you as you never will be again: unknowing, untested, in some ways unscarred. The vision holders at the beginning of the journey, when you are at your fullest potential but with no proof of what you can actually accomplish. You are just a snapshot of a dream waiting to come to life. God bless those people, because they played a role in your willingness to take those risks.
On top of all this I feel incredibly grateful to have gone to school in a place that could only be described as gorgeous; it was quite literally the epitome of a small Northeastern liberal arts college. My time there was the privileged outcome of my mom’s hard work, to pull herself up by her bootstraps and also her refusal to back down when my dad tried to weasel out of paying for a private college even though he had the money.
My first choice of schools was actually Wesleyan: it seemed artsy. But Wesleyan waitlisted me, and so I was forced to look elsewhere. I had some neighbors who went to Hamilton so I decided to give it a shot. In retrospect, it seems hilarious, that a place of such beauty and privilege could be my second choice.
Late summer, before my freshman year, Wesleyan called me. “Congratulations,” they said, “A spot has opened up for you!”. “No! I’ve already decided to go to Hamilton,” I said, unwilling to be anyone’s second choice, and hung up on them.
My stubborn pride paid off. There’s no way all of the above would have happened at Wesleyan - at least not in the same way.
Being 50 is weird. I think for an artist, a midlife crisis looks something like trying to round up the pieces of where you refused to be “normal” and try to re-examine them. Thinking about retirement? Riiiight…Not running away from commitments? Yeah…maybe something to that.
Thanks to all on the Reunion committee who brought me up to campus and treated me with such care. The lessons keep coming!
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Join Abigail Dowd and me at Doodad Farm July 25th! I’ve heard lots about this sweet outdoor venue but this will be my first time there. Look forward to singing for y’all and doing a bit of collaboration with my sister-in-song, Abigail Dowd. Payment is by donation at the door. Learn more on FB, or come join us at 4701 Land Rd, Greensboro, NC, United States, North Carolina.
4th Sunday Salon Returns July 27th
In light of an upcoming family trip, we’ll take a break from the Salon this month and return July 27th for a livestream concert over zoom! Details to come in July.