Story and photos by Drew ('94) and Nicole Motley vanEsselstyn ('95)

Additional photos by Liz O'Neill ('05)

 

IT WAS ONLY 9:30 HOMECOMING MORNING, AND WE WERE ALREADY TIRED. Little did we know then how appropriate the Homecoming 2003 theme, "Hasn't it been too long?" -- really was. We had been back to campus sporadi-cally since we had graduated in 1994 and 1995 and had much to reacquaint ourselves with. We could have claimed the theme as the motto for our amazing 13-hour day.

 

I'm no longer the news editor of The Breeze, as I was back in 1994. I'm (mostly) the same Drew vanEsselstyn. But today, nine years after graduating, I have additional responsibilities. I am happily married to former Breeze editor Nicole Motley ('95), and the father of two young children.

Nicole and I are on assignment again; we have returned to JMU to enjoy and cover Homecoming. We are telling our story together.

I was working on just five hours of sleep that morning when we drove for two hours under gray and misting skies from our home in Fairfax to Harrisonburg. Nicole spent the better part of the trip swiveling around toward the back of our van to tend to the needs of our two kids, Abigail, 5, and Dalton, 2. Everyone was glad when I backed into our parking spot in P-Lot. The kids wanted to stretch their legs, and we were eager to take as many deep breaths as possible of the Shenandoah Valley's clean air.

At this time of the morning, traffic on campus was still fairly sparse, and those who were already out were busy setting up activities, stages and information tables. We were just the second group to stake a claim at our end of P-Lot. Tents dotted the landscape, and the atmosphere was one of expectation.

The week before Homecoming, we must have checked weather reports daily. Knowing how unpredictable the fall season can be, especially in the valley, we wanted to be prepared. Our van was loaded with more stuff than any family of four could possibly need for a single day. One look in our trunk would indicate enough for a semester's stay: extra coats, changes of clothes, pajamas and food. A basket of books, coloring pages, crayons and two soccer balls were in reserve to stymie any uprisings from Abigail and Dalton later in the day. We had it all, but didn't need half of it.

We immediately set out for unfamiliar territory -- the new part of campus -- on the east side of the interstate, where the College Center and integrated science and technology programs are located. The new part of campus had been mostly a vision of then-JMU President Ronald Carrier during the early 1990s, when we were students at JMU; other than the arboretum and the Convocation Center, there was little reason for us to ever venture across I-81.

Before we made it to the bridge that connects the Village to the new campus, Abigail's feet were already hurting, Dalton was refusing to ride in the stroller, and the clouds had started spitting on us. I reminded the kids that this was going to be a long, but fun, day with a lot of walking. Who knew that reminder would have to come only moments after starting out? Guided solely by my memory of a brief visit to the online campus map the night before -- of course, it was lying on the floorboard of the van -- we crossed the bridge.

We then became officially confused, otherwise known as lost. What we needed was that purple folder that had been given to us at freshman orientation. You remember, the one with the campus map on the back? The one we were too embarrassed to use back then?

But we saw a lot: the Integrated Science and Technology/Computer Science Building, Health and Human Services Building, and future Chemistry/Physics Building, which is under construction. All on the way to the new Leeolou Alumni Center. When we found it, my first thought was, "I wish we'd had something this nice when we were in school." Even though nothing will replace the charm and atmosphere of the Bluestones in our minds, James Madison now boasts the feel of both a traditional campus and a cutting-edge campus.

A word to the wise, when The Breeze will be your next stop after leaving the Leeolou Alumni Center: Drive! These are the two farthest points away from each other on campus. What a haul.

I lived in Eagle, and Nicole lived in Wine-Price during our respective freshman years. We had trekked to Anthony-Seeger for our journalism classes countless times, but we were 10 years younger and two kids lighter then. We headed downhill to the van to lighten our load, past Godwin Field, into the bookstore (where Nicole loitered long enough to strike up a conversation with JMU alum and country music star Phil Vassar, who would be performing at the Homecoming concert later that night) up the hill to D-Hall, down to the Quad, over the Rock, across Main Street and to the back of Anthony-Seeger to the open house at The Breeze.

Dalton immediately began pawing at the vegetable tray. We knew he was hungry when he reached for cauliflower. Abigail made a beeline for the cookies. Add a soft drink, and that constituted their midmorning snacks. The Breeze offices essentially seem to have stood still over the past decade. The same cartoon of Lefty Driesell hangs above the sports desk. The same poster of the Blues Brothers is pinned up behind the news desk. Current Breeze staffers were milling about and showing us copies of the most recent issues, as well as quizzing us on life after JMU.

We had packed so much into our schedule that our respite at The Breeze could not last nearly as long as the parents or the little ones wanted. By promising that our next "mini-marathon" would be our last, Nicole coaxed the kids out of some plastic storage bins they had found to play in.

The walk back across campus morphed into a fast-paced hike. Nicole pushed the stroller -- loaded down with Dalton, some coats and a bag that included everything from crackers to diapers. Abigail was heavier on my shoulders than any backpack I ever strapped on during my college days. As we descended past Warren Hall, the finish line was in sight.

What was once an air of expectation had now turned into a full-blown party. At this moment all our walking was well worth it, or we wouldn't have had such a prime spot in P-Lot.

The tailgate portion of our day awaited us, as did Nicole's former roommates, Maureen McHugh Bellingham and Erica Lewis Wynne ('95), their husbands and the Bellingham's son. Nicole reached into the back of the van, pulled out a folding table and spread out the snacks. Everyone contributed to the fare by bringing salads, drinks, sandwiches, cookies and chips -- a nice mix  of elegant and kid-friendly entrees. Chairs were unpacked, which gave the children an empty space in the van to play in. The whole setup seemed very impressive. That is, until we looked to the left.

The other group of early birds had tripled in size and had obviously perfected the art of tailgating. They had a tent and a grill, and most of the folks in their group sported purple-and-gold attire. All we had was purple pompoms for the kids, one of which was eagerly snatched up by Abigail when it was discarded by someone else earlier. Had the weather again turned rainy, our only shelter would have been the raised tailgate of the van.

Friends Mike Leopold ('94) and former SGA president Josh Pringle ('95) also made their way over and joined in our conversations, unaware how each of them would eventually become targets for our children. Although the intention of those friendly people in the alumni tent on Godwin Field had been to give seat cushions for Abigail and Dalton to use in the stands during the football game, the kids wielded them as weapons. They soon were beating on our guests and running behind the tables of our neighbors. They had to be distracted, and that meant heading to the football game.

Mike, now a professor in the chemistry department at Richmond, was well prepared. He was topped off with a JMU hat, and his coat covered a UR Spiders T-shirt that he would reveal if the tide turned against the Dukes. He was also anxious to see his sister Lauren, a freshman who was playing with the Marching Royal Dukes.

Before joining the others at the game, I took Abigail on her own field trip to the moon bounce. A potentially disheartening setback was averted when I successfully begged for 30 seconds worth of jumping for Abigail before the moon bounce was deflated.

Even though we spent the next two hours at the football game, much of that time was spent talking and reminiscing with our friends, keeping track of Duke Dog's activities and searching the crowd for familiar faces. When my eyes found their way to the game action, the Dukes seemed to be having little trouble with Richmond. They forced turnovers, cleared the way for long runs and were well on their way to victory. When the band came out at halftime, all eyes focused on the field. Dalton was so excited that he laughed and danced for five minutes straight. Mike tried desperately to pick out which clarinet player was his sister, and Abigail looked around the stands and said, "Mommy, did all these people go to college with you?"

Midway through the third quarter, given the attention spans of our kids, we decided to make our way back to the van. We said our goodbyes with hugs, kisses and promises to reconnect more often. We loaded up our gear in a considerably less orderly fashion than it had arrived and drove to Massanutten for the final event of our day: a reunion of the 1992-93 Breeze staff.

Conversations with people we hadn't seen in 10 years were comfortable. Everyone looked and seemed so much the same that it was like we had just finished a long night of writing and editing, swearing and eating, and designing and laughing together as we got the paper out on deadline. We shared what we knew about those who hadn't been able to make it and repeatedly came back to the same sentiment: We want, and need, to do better at staying in touch.

The kids, although troopers throughout the day, had hit the wall. Nicole sympathized with them and made motions toward the door. Despite doing my best to ignore my own fatigue, let alone the kids', I tried to milk another 15 minutes out of the day. But at 8 p.m., a two-hour drive home remained, and we were all tired. The day had come full circle. We had done more than we probably should have and walked more in one day than we've walked since we were students. But every step and every part of the day had been worth it.

It had been too long.