Spent the last few days out at Oberlin College, my alma mater. This was only the second time I've been back in the umpitty-ump years since my graduation. The other was to my fifth class reunion. By then they'd torn down a building or two, put some more up, and I didn't want to know about the changes. Oberlin had such an enormous place in my heart that I wanted it to stay the way it was. So I never went back again; but I was asked this year to address our reunion class and I decided it was time to let the memories be one thing and the reality be whatever it was.

It was a complicated weekend. I kept getting ambushed by memories I didn't know were there, and they came less in the form of narrative ("We did such-and-such here") and more as sensory waves -- images, scents, sounds, emotions rising from buildings, birdsong, angles of light. And taste: any Obie knows that Gibson's whole wheat doughnuts are the midwestern equivalent of madeleines, capable of provoking a seven-volume set of recollections as detailed as Proust's.

I was nervous about going, not about my speech but about my reaction to the place. But in the end, watching graduation, I was overwhelmingly glad I was there. The graduation procession was pure, emblematic Oberlin: the faculty in the caps and gowns of their alma maters -- except where they were wearing flower wreaths or jester's caps; four professors carried babies and one pushed his in a stroller. The students came after them, half wearing caps and gowns, the others lovely dresses or sport coats and slacks -- or a Pink Panther costume, a bathrobe, or a lab coat. There were two kimono, one on a Japanese girl, one on a white boy; a large red-headed boy wore a kilt; two boys had on white flannel suits and top hats, one with white gloves; and there was all manner of elaborate headgear, including a couple of umbrellas cleverly attached to mortar boards. Well, it was sunny.

I stood there and thought, The place hasn't changed. I'd spent just a few days with these kids, but they were the same as we'd been: uncertain, hopeful, energetic, creative, committed. Oberlin has a new motto: "Fearless." It did seem that way to me. I've never been fearless, myself; but I'm glad I got the courage together to go back this weekend. Seeing this place and these kids it sends into the world makes the future look not quite as dark as it had been looking. Thanks, Obie.