I stood in the church’s narthex, wearing my white dress with the lace train falling behind me, and grabbed my father’s arm. My groom, who graduated from the same small college I did, waited at the altar with his friends.
“Dad,” I said impatiently to the graying, 54-year-old man in a tuxedo. “This is my wedding day. I’m your only daughter. Aren’t you supposed to say something to me?”
He proudly said, “Purdue is ahead of Minnesota,” referring to a college football game on an autumn afternoon. I knew there was a game; we had scheduled the wedding around the home season to benefit family members.
My father was a Purdue alumnus, and it became a big part of his life— so much so that it seemed to be the most important thing to him on my wedding day.
That’s why we’ve always disagreed about my own college choice.
I didn’t want to follow in my parents’ footsteps
I started looking at colleges in my first year of high school. I was not interested in my dad’s college, Purdue, because it lacked a humanities focus. My father opposed my mother’s alma mater, Indiana University, for me despite my interest. Like many women of the Silent Generation, my mother, who would have loved for me to attend her alma mater, acquiesced to my father.
I asked to visit Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana, because I had heard good things about the midsize college. Despite my parent’s admiration of their Big Ten schools, I didn’t want to live in their shadows.
I overheard my father telling a fellow Purdue graduate after church that he was taking me to visit Ball State. The man asked, ” Why would Amy want to go there? David went there, and he’s not that bright.”
I was irritated and surprised but still wanted to visit Ball State. I wanted a place that was mine and felt special. Ball State lacked the national ratings of the other schools but was renowned for several programs, including one that interested me.
I fell in love with Ball State
I attended a summer high school journalism workshop at Ball State, which clinched the deal for me. As clichéd as it sounds, the workshop was like when Dorothy moved from sepia-tone to Technicolor in “The Wizard of Oz.”
As a child, I had visited the Purdue and Indiana campuses, which spread out over miles. With 18,000 students, Ball State seemed the right size.
The two-week workshop was transformative. I interviewed Tom K. Ryan, the cartoonist who drew “Tumbleweeds.” I met Ryan’s assistant, Jim Davis, who later drew a lasagna-eating, yellow cartoon cat named Garfield. When I saw my articles published, I returned to high school with a new purpose.
I eventually got accepted and enrolled as a freshman.
I loved Ball State, and my college years were filled with great experiences. It’s where I met my husband of 40 years and lifelong friends called “The Bobs.” My studies and professors piqued my lifelong curiosity and eagerness to learn.
My family was never interested in my college experience
I never felt the emotional buy-in I saw when I went with my parents to drop my brother off at Purdue during his first year. I often felt dismissed when I spoke of my college activities or friends. My family didn’t see the attributes of my college — only what it wasn’t.
I often felt overlooked and chastised because I didn’t attend the school they wanted me to attend.
It took me a long time to understand that another’s bond doesn’t diminish mine. Getting a college education is great — particularly for my father, the first in his family to attend college. I’m grateful to come from a family that encourages higher education, yet I don’t understand why people can express ill will or dismissal for another person’s college choice. For me, what we gain from education over a lifetime is the most important measure of success.
I don’t defend unkindness, but I understand it’s human to feel connected to places and people we cherish. I am imperfect, a work in progress, but over time, I’ve learned that what others thought of my choices was not my concern, and I didn’t warrant contempt or dismissal.
When Purdue made it to the men’s basketball final four this year, I cheered for the Boilers. At 93, my father has never seen a championship win. Giving grace feels much better than holding a grudge.
