It rained for most of the trip from South Bend to Bloomington on July 8. There might have been a little speck of sunshine in Mooresville, but overall it was a damp drive. It was also a drive filled with road construction. You know the old joke: In the Midwest, there are two seasons — winter and construction. It seems as though Indiana is intent on building east-west overpasses every ten miles from Plymouth to Westfield, to and from tiny towns. It must be because of all the federal infrastructure money sloshing around in state coffers.
Of course major construction between South Bend and Bloomington has been going on for more than a decade. Take it from somebody who has been making the 200-mile trek for that entire time, first with my daughter as a student at Indiana University for four years, and now to visit her (since she had the good sense to stay in God’s Country) and other family members who live there.
I still have visions of driving our SUV full of my daughter’s belongings through major construction zones in Kokomo and Indianapolis. The conversion of Indiana 37 to Interstate 69 (Indianapolis to Evansville) has gone over budget and overtime while contractors were changed and workers were killed. All for the sake of turning a beautiful, hilly drive from Indy to Bloomington into a trip that takes fifteen minutes less. But I digress.
My wife and I travel to Bloomington once or twice a year. We are both IU graduates, as are many of our relatives. I called Bloomington home for four years in the 1980s. I don’t think I appreciated all the university offered until years after I graduated. Now when I have the opportunity to return, memories start to flow and regrets are never far behind. The Bloomington campus is consistently ranked as one of the most beautiful college campuses in the country. It is more lovely now than it was during my time there.
We arrived at the Grant Street Inn, two blocks from the IU campus. We have stayed there numerous times. The inn used to be a private residence. Decades ago it was saved from demolition and moved to its current location. The story of its move is depicted in black and white photos hung on the walls of the inn.
One of my favorite features of the inn is its front porch, which faces Grant Street. Every visit I sit on the porch in a rocking chair with my books and newspapers, while also watching people (mostly students) pass by. On one of our visits around Labor Day, the newly arrived students were walking the sidewalks, holding hands, traveling in packs, carrying plastic cups with God-only-knows-what in them (probably prune juice). Across the street, a student rental was alive with young academics studying the physics of beer pong while calculating how many decibels they could crank their music to without inviting the police to their “study hall.” Young people zipped past on electric scooters and bikes.
Since this visit was in mid-July, the campus and surrounding areas were as quiet and people-free as I’ve ever witnessed. While talking with a retired IU employee near Showalter Fountain, he described the IU calendar thus: The students arrive in August for crowded and chaotic move-in days. By spring break, the locals begin to wonder, when will these young people leave? A few weeks later, they are gone for the summer, and it’s quiet on campus. The full-time residents can more easily find a place to park and get a table at a restaurant. Later in the summer, it becomes obvious that Bloomington needs the students for its economy, and they are welcomed back in mid-August.
On the inn porch, I met a father from California who was in town for his son’s student orientation. I regaled him with stories from my time as a student, including how I “went wild” as a freshman. My wife, sitting beside me, clarified by “went wild,” I meant drinking unlimited carbonated beverages in the dormitory cafeteria. My mom didn’t allow pop consumption when I was a kid.
I met some women, one from Goshen, who were reuniting at IU for the first time in forty years. I met a family from Iowa who was there to hear their son’s/nephew’s/grandson’s final music recital before he officially graduated. I took a group picture for them on “my” porch. The grandfather asked me why IU folks get so riled when people call IU “The University of Indiana.” I set him straight about the Pennsylvania university by that name. I also told him that as far as many IU students and graduates are concerned, IU is “The Indiana University.” My wife told me later that I should get a job in Bloomington as a IU ambassador. I would take that job in a minute, but I’m certain there are plenty of others who would want the job if it existed and are more qualified than me. But I do love my alma mater and love sharing it with others, except maybe not with the beer bong boys.
On one of our walks on campus, my wife and I took a tree tour that her sister alerted us to. It was a fun and educational way to see the campus in a new way, looking up at the canopy that has been there for more than 100 years, carefully curated by IU staff. I highly recommend it. The link to the tour is (https://urbanforestry.indiana.edu/outreach/woodland.html).
Walking through the Indiana Memorial Union early Monday morning, we found that the only other people inside were those keeping it clean and preparing food. The IMU is an amazing place with a hotel, restaurants, sweet shop, bookstore, theater, bowling alley, solarium, Alumni Hall, conference rooms, and lounges with cozy couches and fireplaces. I spent more time in the IMU than in many of my classes.
Walking on the worn stairs near Alumni Hall, it occurred to me that I walked there almost daily decades ago. I felt like I owned the place. Come August, this campus will belong to others, just as it does every fall. But every time I return, it’s mine once more; very much the same, but always changing. Waiting for me to explore and reminisce once more.