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But Millsaps did teach us to question, our professors left their marks, and the ensuing years wrought their changes on us. . . . Working for Gannett, Baxter, Allegiance, AT&T, Merrill Lynch, Coldwell Banker, Money Magazine, a large, privately held corporation, and a corporate law firm, some of us found ourselves – though to our horror at first – playing with the big boys.
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Why have we remained so close? Fran
thinks it’s “because there are some of us who
are loyal and refuse to lose something precious in the
name of advancing times, changing lives, and busy
schedules.” Susan (Collins) Logan of Brandon
remembers that when she saw everyone at our Memphis
Peabody Hotel reunion, “it was as if twenty-five
years fell away and we were back in the dorm again.”
Betsy felt it too: “It’s like that perpetual
bridge game – you leave for a time but come back and
pick up almost where you left off.” All true. But it was the ’60s cultural revolution that freed us and other women to lead dynamic, evolving lives. Our families are important, but we have outside lives as well. Had we remained cloistered, we might not have kept these friendships alive. Today, I’d guess that some of us are staunch Republicans and others yellow-dog Democrats. But I don’t for sure know who’s who. We’ve never argued over politics and never will. It would be an ugly thing, to disagree about issues when all that matters about each other now is our personal feelings. We’re the ones who ask – and care – about the kids we’ve never met, who listen with interest to any bit of minutae from the others’ lives, who give the unconditional support that everyone craves and that many of us need now that one or both parents have died. And, like all dormmates, we’re the ones who’ve seen the warts usually reserved for view only by families. We’ve seen each other at our absolute worst - hungover, heartbroken, homesick, whining, without makeup, with pimples, dirty hair, and bad bleach jobs, gaining the freshman fifteen, hugging the commode after one too many Hurricanes, and making a frenzied series of all-night study stands after a semester of play. But we’ve also seen each other at our best – our most loyal, generous, empathetic, funny, and, above all, our most accepting selves. Betsy especially remembers that uncommon degree of acceptance, despite our being “brutally honest” and not at all “carbon copies of one another.” As she’s told us, “Preparing a daughter for college, I really tried hard to explain the bond I felt with these eighteen of my closest friends. I hope she’ll be able to find that – a tie so strong that thirty years later she’ll still feel close and connected.” When our reunions end, we say our emotional goodbyes
and begin reentry to the real world, where friends are
seldom so readily available. Those of us who’ve
carpooled have it better, a longer period to readjust.
Back home, we hurry to the One-Hour Processing stand
clutching our rolls of film, and soon we’re studying
our group snapshots, marveling at what they reveal. We
see friends who have no facades to keep in place, no
bitterness or grudges against each other to repress, no
impressions to make. We see friends who, if we need
something, will come through for us, who take us as we
are, who make us feel we have another home. And,
suddenly, we can’t wait until the next hard-birthday
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