My 70’s

My 70’s was conveniently sliced in half, right in the middle.

First half was spent in my native country, the other, America.

First half, city. Second half, on campus, in the middle of Pennsylvania.

One cannot help becoming an expert in cross-cultures having lived through such a contrast. Nothing was “central” in Centre County. Just as nothing could be compared to where I was from at the tail end of the decade- long war.

Luckily, I have got music to help bridge that gap. We, students, still listened to Bread and the Beatles in Blue jeans and long hair. Slang and slogan, dude.

In the winter, on a winding trail from the HUB, where someone from the Campus night shift had done the heavy shoveling, all of us walked that path, to and from class, unavoidably saying “Hi” to hundreds. A polite and civil society.

We learned the ABC’s of campus life, of treating others as we would like to be treated.

My second half of the 70’s witnessed no incident of violence, none (a sharp contrast to my first half).

We were loud on the field (Beaver Stadium), but not on the street (Main Campus), occasionally exceeding our volume (Agricultural Studio), but always adjusting the VU knob not to surpass the Red Zone (audio control booth).

I of course preferred the second half. That’s when I mastered the art of letting go, of un- learning.

Besides self-protection and self-survival were the use of time, friending selection and yes, elimination.

Millions of calculation and variables happened on campus as in life. Great teachers and bad teachers, memorable events (Springsteen concert) and forgettable ones (Udall speech).

When that decade ended, my life sprung forward, at full speed.

It were as though the second half had erased all the mishaps in the first half, like a Penn State Football game. Yes, the first half ended abruptly with scars and suffering. But all that matters was what the score board says: Penn State won.

I’ve got my own bruises (using the football analogy), albeit I only jogged around the golf course during my stay on campus. But in looking back at my 70’s, I cannot help but smile, at fond memories and fun times , at friends I made and who supported my endeavor to do good well into the next decade.

My 70’s bleeds over to the next decade, when people just dove onto the open sea, risking their lives for the unknown. Those people were just as brave and determined. History then repeated itself, this time, with me actively participating in it, giving a helping hand. I can look back and see how my second half of the 70’s was time for healing and turning me from victim to helper, from receiving to giving. It stripped me of my selfish genes and left me with bare essentials for life and its pursuit of not just my own happiness but also others’.

It’s not the American Dream. It’s Everyone’s Dream to live out life to its fullest. My 70’s: ” I would give you everything I own”…just to feel you, once again.