This has been an incredibly busy 2 months: starting a new job, preparing for Alumni Weekend, finding out that I have been accepted as an instructor for an American history course, running my children back and forth to their events and just trying to maintain the greatness that is me. So everything that I have been doing, workwise anyway, has boiled down to this weekend: Alumni Weekend.

My colleagues have offered their assistance in any capacity I feel necessary, other folks around campus have offered their support and best wishes and my predecessor has sent me numerous messages guaranteeing me that I’ll “do just fine.” Hmmm, now I’m scared.

I’ve set up displays for all of the classes ending in 6 and 8 from 1948 through 2003. I’ve put out yearbooks, memory books, scrapbooks, photographs, etc. Now I’m wondering what more I could have done. Should I have done more?

I have papers and pens for people to write down their memories, if they’d like to share. I will also take notes as people talk to me, assuming they talk to me. So far, the alumni that I have met have been so funny and gracious; sharing all sorts of stories with me about their time on campus. Some of the stories have made me blush, some have made me roar with laughter and some have made me shake my head with wonder.

No matter the sliver of fear that resides in my belly, I know it won’t be my shortcomings that people will remember from this weekend, it will be the memories long buried that have been uncovered, it will be the renewed friendships and the shared laughter. And I’m happy to know that I have had the opportunity, as archivist and memory keeper, to play a small role in this, my first Alumni Weekend.