What colleges have you attended?
For me, there was only one university. That’s one, as in singular. Big fat uno! Yeah, I know… It was a bold admissions strategy to only apply to one school. Luckily for me, they pretty much took anyone back then. A simpler time. A time when admissions standards were… well, more of a suggestion for a state school.
Sooo… what was this awesome as a possum university? Drum roll please…
Theeeee Ohio State University! Yes, with all the extra E’s. You can’t just say “The.” You have to announce it like you’re introducing royalty… or a heavyweight boxing champion.
Anyway, OSU wasn’t my destiny; it was more like a gentle but persistent family suggestion… repeated annually… with charts… and fight songs. My dad went there. My sister went there. An uncle went there. Multiple cousins went there. And now… even my oldest daughter goes there. At some point, it would’ve been awkward if I didn’t go there. I mean, family reunions were basically tailgates with potato salad and unsolicited opinions about the offensive line.
When you grow up in a college town like Columbus, sure, there are plenty of other great universities, but for me, there was really only one option: Be a Buckeye!
And yes, before you ask… a Buckeye is a nut. A poisonous nut. Not an exotic Ohio squirrel. Not a flower. Definitely not a nickname for your weird uncle Larry. Not cuddly. Not friendly. More like, “Nice to meet you… don’t eat me or I’ll mildly toxify you.”
Sooo… after slightly more than four years, I graduated in the summer of 1994. Yeah, yeah… I know. I could have graduated sooner. But those first few years? Let’s just say there was a bit too much party and not nearly enough study. I basically majored in Socializing with a minor in Recovery and an unofficial certificate in Late Mornings. Eventually, wisdom kicked in, and I crossed the finish line diploma in hand.
So yes, I survived college, eventually graduated, and emerged slightly wiser, mostly intact, and permanently Buckeye-branded. Side effects include random fight-song humming, an uncontrollable urge to correct people when they forget the extra E’s, and a strict personal policy of not using the letter “M” when referring to that school up north… you know, the one better known as… I better whisper this part… psst, psst… Sorry, not sorry… but we never really say the actual name of the state up north. Just saying… 🤷
Crock’s Thoughts 