Friendship in a college town

First of all, I'm sure you'll be thrilled to hear that the stanky refrigerator dragon was slain at about 1:45 yesterday afternoon. Noe to dieters out there: if you want to curb your appetite, clean out the farthest reaches of your refrigerator. You'll never look at cheese quite the same again.

Now back to my intended post:

There are many wonderful things about living in a college town (but not smack dab in the middle of a college neighborhood). We get more than our fair share of culture, a laid back attitude, and visits from prominent people who would normally avoid a sleepy little town like this. On the other hand, as someone who has chosen to make this town her long-term home, I've seen more than my share of great friends move away. The nature of the college biz (and so many of the people I meet and grow to care about are associated with the University themselves or through their spouses) is that after a period of time (Bachelor's? Master's? Ph.D.? Post-Doc? Temporary faculty? Mid-career job change?), it's time for them to move on.

Ooh... little break here to tell all my friends who may read this and think I'm trying to lay a gigantic guilt trip on you -- rest assured that I only intend a small guilt trip, not a gigantic one.

;-)

It's really fun to have friends all over the country and the world. I like to read about everyone's academic greatness and get the cute pictures of the kids as they grow from the babies we strolled around town to the punkass kids they are today. There are those days, however, when I just want someone to call me for coffee. I know I have to go out and make some more local friends but goldang it - that feels a bit like work these days.

I think it's also hard to make friends as our kids get older because we've all learned to be a little bit more guarded -- no one really wants to talk about their kids' bumps along the road to maturity and yet, that's the stuff that consumes our thoughts. Many pleasantries are exchanged but it's hard to get into a real meaty conversation when you're afraid that an offhand remark about some dimwitted thing your kid did may be taken out of context or spread to the rest of mommydom. It happens when kids are littler, too, but somehow having the whole neighborhood know that your kid pronounces "fork" like a bad, bad word or that she pottytrained 6.8 weeks later than the neighbor girl doesn't have stakes as high as, say, discussions of puberty, grades, and relationships.

That's been one of the great benefits of this blog. I get to stay connected with those friends near and far, share what I want to share (although sometimes a bit more than I should, probably), and continue to feel connected to all of the great people who have passed through town.

For now, I'll work on planning yet another Bon Voyage party and start the muster the enthusiasm to go out and find some more real-live-in-the-flesh-phone-call-away friends.

Tomorrow.

Or maybe next week.