.:: The StrongBrain Collective ::.

My friend Andrew Reilly made a fantastic point about the liberal college experience a few months ago. This came at fortuitously the precise moment when my school loans were beginning to circle my bank account like a famished group of Tiger sharks ready to devour every last penny I earned; and I had began to wonder what exactly I had ever procured from the already-spent $120,000.

In one of my infamous protracted foul moods, I had been attempting to recall my mindset from 1994-1995 as I was considering the rationale for attending college, the results of which I've listed here (in no particular order):

- Living on my own and being an adult
- Learning
- Getting high-paying, powerful, life-affirming employment upon graduation

Amidst this despondency, I began to erroneously, yet convincingly, believe that I had failed to achieve any of these initial objectives. Was I an adult? At 27, my father had served a term in the navy, had two children, and owned a home. I had gained a buddha belly. What did I learn? I had two majors -- psychology and religion. But, when those exact categories appeared in Jeopardy, I struggled to answer even the $200's. And my jobs since graduation? Preschool at less than twenty grand. Copy editor that I retired from (a.k.a. quit) to travel. Production guy at Office Space-esq. printing company.

None of this is what I envisioned (although, admittedly, what I usually envision is perfection, unfortunately.) I saw respect, money, repute and more money in my crystal ball as I took my initial steps on the quad of Trinity College as a student.

But Andrew constructed a foundation of perspective for me when he said:

"College is not about facts. Facts are about recall, and facts are not intelligence. Trinity College was about learning how to think, seeing different perspectives, and making informed decisions based on all the different variables. But most of all, Trinity was about learning how to problem solve. That is intelligence: taking a quandary, discovering all the pertinent information related to that quandary, and effectuating a solution. If you can do that, then you're intelligent.

And that was the benefit of Trinity College."

That point didn't really make sense to me until the next day at work when I was forced to quickly and calmly puzzle out a multi-faceted predicament. I sat back, considered all angles, and like a waitress dealing with ten simultaneous pissed-off tables, gave each affected department the quick answer they both desired and required.

I was the hero. And this heroism bespeaks Trinity's contribution to my existence, regardless of the circumstances in which it occurred, because the circumstance could occur anywhere and at anytime.

It was with this newfound appreciation for my very expensive school that I began to pull out of the melancholy that was birthing itself in my soul. Of course, having a marvelous girlfriend who inspires serenity obviously helped, too!!

So, wearing my new perspective like a nice shirt everyone complimented, I attended my 5-year college reunion on June 10-13, 2004 at Trinity College in Hartford, CT.

It was quite an experience, although a couple of days before I flew back east for the event, I had a mini anxiety attack. What if everyone has changed and I haven't? What if everyone has achieved their life's ambition and I'm stuck at a printing company? What if everyone is engaged to be married and I'm celebrating my four-month anniversary as my longest, healthiest relationship ever? What if everyone is going there to judge everyone else? Are they going to judge me? What if everyone has done a two-year service in the Peace Corps and my only contribution to society was to ladle soup at a homeless kitchen? What if everyone has developed such self-confidence as to rule the world and I have not? Will they notice?

Once again, my crazy brain's thoughts were deflected skillfully by Julie (my girlfriend) who informed me that 90% of the attendees would admit to feeling at least a certain level of anxiety about the reunion as well, and the other 10% were in denial. It's human nature.

With that in mind, I arrived Friday around 5 p.m. I saw my old boss at the Child Care Center. I kicked off my flip-flops and strolled through the grass. I paused near a tree and reflected. I found my old mailbox and giggled. I saw rarely seen faces that smiled as I approached from afar. I saw free alcohol and gorgeous weather.

My fluster and hesitancy quickly abated as I took a deep breath and relaxed, realizing this reunion was going to be a blast, not a fearful debacle.

Man, I had a wonderful time. What I feared would be an endless foray into the world of small-talk quickly became impassioned words of recollection and legitimate curiosity. People I had rarely appreciated became fast friends with promises of future contact that I hope are realized. A girl I adored for three years informed me that she had a crush on me, too! Several girls, including her, now had rings on their fingers that they subtilely -- or so they thought -- examined from time to time. (Remember ladies, I'm tall, I can see everything!) I saw my favorite professor without whose help I may not have graduated. Old acquaintences were renewed with handshakes, hugs and phone numbers.

My very good friend proposed to his longtime girlfriend thirty minutes before arriving. Another whispered in my ear that he might be doing the same soon. More even professed their love for living and their affinity for my friendship.

What a weekend! Not a single word did I regret. Indeed not a single second did I wish was returned to me. I spent the limited time wisely, amongst a wonderful array of people that I had long desired to encounter and interact with.

And I would like to take this time to personally thank Michael Ingrassia. For, at the conclusion of the weekend, my crazy brain was beginning to worry about "not enough time to spend with too many remarkable people!" But he took me aside and said something so perfect as to send me on my way with a pathetically incessant grin -- a stupid grin, really. But after I sat back and considered his words, the idiocy of my grin became inconsequential. He said,

"It's not the quantity ... it's the quality."

Ahhhhhh ... Indeed.

This reunion taught me a lot of things:

1. I am an adult. I am making a living and I am motivated to grow as a person.
2. I kick ass at Jeopardy now.
3. Comfortable money will come because of the skills I continue to develop. My future is confident.

And in the meantime, I love my friends. It's all about the quality...