Choosing a college can be a cumbersome task. After all, the school you choose to attend can have its football team placed on probation, right after you get to campus. Or, it could choose to go “all male.”
This is how I chose SMU.
After visiting UT Austin in the spring of my senior year, I resolved that is where I would go, although my visit there wasn’t a good one; the weather being terrible that January afternoon, the campus a giant maze of buildings that I hadn’t been used to, being from Crockett, etc. Upon returning home, my parents suggested I visit the Hilltop, seeing my frustration.
What a difference a couple of months makes.
I parked in front of Perkins and was met by a beautiful co-ed who was assigned to show me around. It was a clear, sunny, spring break day on that early Friday morning. We walked over to Boaz to sample the living conditions. She knocked on the door and a raspy, sleepy voice answered, “Come in!”
Upon entering the darkened room, I looked out the window to see a pyramid of Heineken bottles stacked like an upside down pool ball rack. A hazy green filtered the sunlight through the window. I smiled. The co-ed looked disgusted.
“Not ALL of the rooms are like this,” she whispered. She was wearing “Charlie.” Hanging from the ceiling was a disco ball, reflecting the hazy green sunlight. Another good sign, I noted. “These are the closets,” she said, opening the doors to one. Inside one door hung a Farah Fawcett poster.
On the other, a US Senator Blutarsky poster of John Belushi. Check.
The hangers weren’t used, the clothes in a pile with a pizza box on top of them. “I need this guy’s name,” I thought. The occupant was sitting up in his fraternity shirt. Check. He reached for last night’s beer and the rest of last night’s burger. Check. He had a Bang and Olufson stereo, a small TV. Check. He said he didn’t have class until noon. Double check. There was a small fridge with an “America, Love It or Leave It” sticker slapped unevenly across the front. “A Patriot,” I noted. He said, “SMU is really neat, man,” coming to life, chewing the burger, “you’ll”—smack, smack—”love it here.” The co-ed rolled her eyes and said sweetly, “Well, thank you for letting us come in.” He said with a grin, “don’t be a stranger, Mandy.” He didn’t invite ME back, though.
We left the room and Mandy said, “well, we could visit a class.” I declined. “I’m gonna head back to Crockett, let my folks know I’ll be comin’ to SMU this fall.” The co-ed looked pleased. When I got back to East Texas, my parents sat me down, like Ward and June would. “What do you think?” they asked. “I think SMU is a perfect fit. The professors really care, I like the degree programs.” “SMU is EXPENSIVE.
You’re dad will have to get a THIRD job,” my mom said, “I might have to turn tricks.” “I’ll do it for my kids, someday,” I shrugged. Well, someday is here. I sell blood every Thursday now.
Rick Larson is a 1982 graduate of SMU as well as a member of Phi Gamma Delta fraternity. He has been a stockbroker/investment advisor for 26 years. He can be reached for comment at [email protected]
