Penn State in the Fall

First, you need a windbreaker. Much like the one Joe Paterno wore at Home games.

Second, you need to put the books away. Then go out into the town, during home-games’ weekends. Why should the alumni have all the fun? (They were already out of college).

Third, you’re lucky to get a table at the Corner Room where hot coffee was plenty and conversation free-flown.

It’s a country and culture wrapped up into itself. Homogenous? Yes (at least decades ago when I attended). Insulated? Why do you think it’s nicknamed “Happy Valley” where every year, there was 3-days Spring Concert.

But Penn State in the Fall first. In anticipation of a hard Winter, we joggers hung on to our shorts (and socks that covered up to one’s knees. Yep. That’s the 70’s).

Everyone jogged. At all places all the time – even at 11PM on weekend.

No one gives a glance at joggers, on or off campus.

The HUB was warm, heater way up. We did not have credit cards during my times. So carry a lot of change for hot coffees.

We bought Used Text books. We bought books. We carried books. The Things We Carried.

Typewriters were put to work. Pound them. Work them. Feed and Roll them paper through the slot and start tapping. The Collegian. Read up on The New York Times. The Wall Street Journal.

Everyone reads. Science Technology and Society (STS). Our late great Professor Roy Rusty. Our dear Jimmy Cefalo (who BTW an intern at the same WNEP-TV I spent Spring of 79).

Penn State in the Fall. Old Main. With memories and no regrets. Our times to grow, to question, to doubt and manage our expectations e.g. senior panic (job interviews and marriage proposals).

Communications faculty tolerated our half-baked and ill-delivered speeches. After all, we modeled them after candidates like Udall who campaigned on campus.

Then at 11:30 AM, Helen the University Club cook started getting busy with her generous servings and unfiltered speech.

It’s not all football if you lived there. We roommates shared the groceries bills down to the teeth, using holstered calculators (Texas Instrument was big deal back then) and brown-paper bags (no plastic of any kind).

Hair down to the knees, butts on the Wall. Guitar, singing and coffee houses. WXLR soft-rock station played The Year of the Cat. Campus offered reduced or free flicks e.g. The Graduate ” Mrs. Robinson, Are you trying to seduce me?” Or Deep Throat the movie and Deep Throat the Post unnamed source.

Everyone wants to grow up to become Woodward and Bernstein (not too long before that, it’s Paul Newman and Robert Redford cliff hanging scene ” I don’t know how to swim” ).

Our role models were profs with elbow patches and heavy brief cases. Turtle necks were in much before Steve Job’s times.

Our judgements were challenged, our faith tested. Who are you? Why are you here? Where do you think you will end up? With whom and where. It’s temporary and transitional. But we already knew that. Signed up for it. And enjoyed every moment of it. Cow College WE ARE. Then when you stopped at a Greyhound in York or Lancaster, you would find the serenity and soul of Dutch country.

Religion is present, but ubiquitously blended into the fabrics of community. At Penn State, football is our religion. And during my times, Paterno our God. Undefeated and unquestioned. Coach says this, coach says that. To be fair and journalistically balanced, we were not without faults. Just Google it. You’ll find out for yourself. But to experience Penn State in the Fall, its absolutely stunning scene, you’ve got to be there, on Games Day, hear the echoes of thousands: “Defense, Defense”.

With that Nittany Lions’ spirit, I don’t think Penn State will go away any time soon. WE ARE. In an eternal present tense.