Joan and I came to Valpo the long way, driving over 2500 miles from Connecticut. Yes, there was a minor detour involved. Since the Valpo part of the trip was primarily for me, I decided to be gracious. Joan had never been to Alabama before and since she is a lot older than me (nine months) and fast approaching that age (spelled M-E-D-I-C-A-R-E) I thought I'd give her the thrill of visiting Birmingham. [Don't say it ... maybe that is the only thrill I can still give her.] I had considered the big loop from Birmingham to Valpo via Mount Rushmore, but would you believe 4500 miles from Connecticut to Valpo? Uh-uh ... no prize for longest travel distance there. As a result, our ETA at Valpo was a day earlier than planned. We called the Fairfield Inn and asked if we could have our room for Thursday night. Their answer was quick and emphatic -- NO!

So we stopped about an hour south of Valpo in Remington, Indiana. The motel, truck stop, and two fast food joints were adjacent to the Interstate and that seemed to be it. We decided to go "downtown" for dinner. It was truly remarkable. Less than one mile west of I-65 at 5PM on October 9, 2003 there was a sudden shift in the time-space continuum. We stepped back into small-town Indiana of the 1950s ... so much like the Valpo I remembered it was scary. The similarity of the dark, smoky bar beside the railroad tracks to the bar downstairs from my senior-year apartment was uncanny. I remembered conductors jumping off the train, running in, downing a quick peppermint schnapps with a draft beer chaser, and they'd be hollering "All Aboard" all in about 45 seconds time. There seemed to be no post-war (and I mean the Big One) buildings or homes in this town dredged out of history. The Methodist Church (which looked remarkably like the Immanuel Church I remember in downtown Valpo) had a sign out front that read: He who throws mud at his neighbor loses ground. Actually, the only "restaurant" was a pizza joint housed in what was one of the very few newer buildings in town. Their pizza was as much of an aberration as Remington itself. Oh for the College Inn in the good-old days -- do we care who owned it or gathered there late Friday evenings?

Next morning we drove to Valpo ... up Route 2, for old-time's sake. The farms along the highway looked the same, but as we approached Route 30 reality set in. Lord, how Valpo has changed. Oh sure, the courthouse is still there there on the square, and the bar by the Pennsy station looks as seedy as it did then, and there were a number of other familiar sites. We looked around campus. We'd seen the new campus a couple of times in the 1980s, so no surprises there. But, the old campus was a horrible disappointment -- simply grass around the edges of the huge new Law School building ... and condos in back on Locust Street where the Green Door and hookers held sway in the 50s. Going on Locust further toward Lincolnway, there's Dodge Hall looking better than it did 40 years ago! Yes, Valpo was radically changed, but with snippets of the past coming alive.

We had a deli lunch and decided to explore town a little more before going out to the motel. We never found the pigpens that used to be adjacent to the Nickel Plate railroad on the other side of the Kissing Bridge. [Stuff like that intrigued New Englanders in those days.] Nor did we find the ramshackle "campus" of Valpo Tech. While looking for the site of the A&W Drive-In, with its carhops we remembered so fondly, we got lost ... drove through miles of suburbs (that must have supplanted a lot of Orville Redenbacher's popcornfields to the west of Valpo) ... and eventually ended up on Route 6 near Chesterton. At least from there I was able to find my way back to town, and check-in at the Fairfield Inn.

Late in the afternoon, with a movie on the TV, I occasionally looked out the window and saw a few old codgers arriving at the motel, but no one I recognized. Besides, none of these people could possibly be among what I was sure were my still youthful and vibrant fraternity brothers. So we hopped in the car and went off to the restaurant for the first Reunion event. The restaurant at the specified address was closed ... apparently had been for months. Recheck the program ... no help. Call a Valpo contact number ... got an office answering machine. Did you ever give a party and no one came? I was wondering whether we had come 2500 miles to this one and no one else came! Fortunately, the receptionist at the motel was able to help -- someone had left her a copy of the updated reunion program ... the one I seemed to have misplaced or never paid attention to. Finally, we were off to The Dish.

Joan and I got there only a few minutes late. And there you were ... that same bunch of old coots I saw out the motel window earlier in the day. Look in the mirror Vic, you're one too! That realization came when I said to Bernie Dehlin that I remembered him as a skinny little guy, and he (rightfully) gave me a funny look -- I guess I once was a skinny little guy too, but that was many, many pounds ago. It was great saying hello to all the guys, and to one special gal as well. Unexpectedly, there was Sue Renken, an old girlfriend of mine who had the good sense to marry someone else, but the good taste to make it a Sig Tau. After 40+ years, I easily recognized her. Reunions seem to illustrate that women hold up much better than us guys do. So, it was off from the bar to the private dining room and Joan and I had the pleasure of sitting with Bob and Sue, and the Holter twins.

By that time I had the benefit of a couple of sips of Jack Daniels. Therefore, when Al Davis asked me to MC the proceedings, I was sufficiently lubricated to accept the challenge. Most of the rest of the evening -- and of the weekend for that matter -- were skillfully recorded on videotape by Bob Horvat making this piece rather superfluous. The only exception was Bob's own reminiscences while I held the camera. My lack of skill as a cinematographer are evident from the video. By the way, we thought the food at The Dish was great ... a real first-class meal at a fine restaurant in Valpo -- another pleasant surprise.

Saturday was a very long day, especially for a retiree who believes in the old adage "early to bed and late to rise" -- maybe that's why I'm not very healthy, wealthy, or wise. Let me mention a few highlights of the day for me. I found it interesting that there's no longer a downstairs room at the Old Style and no one there even remembered it. I also enjoyed watching their wait-staff struggle to maintain paths through the mass of tables that we pushed together in the back of their restaurant. In the afternoon, I was surprised again by the beautiful suburbs that have evolved around Valpo, thanks to the reception at Richard Davis' lovely home. Then there was an evening of song and good fellowship, and the Schnitzelbank. Which reminds me, does anybody know whether Svaboda's still exists in Chicago Heights? A late night cocktail with friends at the Fairfield Inn topped off a long, but wonderful day.

Sunday morning breakfast at the Union was unexpectedly good, and what would a weekend at Valpo be without attending services at the Chapel? The two big surprises at the Chapel for us were the very small number of people attending the service (though we understand that many students were away for a long weekend) and a female preacher. As long-time ELCA members, female clergy are quite normal for us, it just felt somewhat incongruous at Valpo. At the conclusion of the service many of us gathered briefly to take our leave ... and all seemed to agree that the reunion had been a great success and that we should do it again. Joan and I thought about a mid-day turkey dinner at Strongbow's, again for old-times sake, but passed on that idea to head directly for home. We spent Sunday night at a motel outside Pittsburgh hearing the laments of Steelers fans -- not the best moments of an otherwise great weekend.