Future closer than you think
A recent visit to this university town, where we spent much of our senior year together 40 years ago, reminded us to warn you, the class of 2004, of something important. All of your college years, but particularly the last one, will leave an indelible imprint.
It may be hard for you to realize this. But the friendships you make, the events you live through, even the chance remarks that you hear will still be shaping your lives many decades from now. So, as the New Year turns and graduation approaches, pay attention!
The hotel that we stayed in here was just a few steps away from two buildings that meant a lot to us during 1964, when Steve was a senior at Harvard and Cokie a senior at Wellesley.
One was the office of the Harvard Crimson, the student newspaper that propelled Steve into a career in journalism. The other was the Catholic church where Cokie went to mass when she came to town for the weekend. In those days we thought our religious differences — Steve is Jewish — would make a future together impossible.
But from the perspective of today — after more than 37 years of marriage, two children and four grandchildren — it’s striking how those doctrinal differences, once so huge and hurtful, have faded into the background. What’s emerged at the core of our lives are the common values we celebrated again this year, when we lit Hanukkah candles with our grandchildren and then worshipped together at Christmas Eve mass.
The conversations we had 40 years ago were endless and earnest, but we also learned that life turns on a brief meeting or comment. A friend casually told Steve about a summer job working for James Reston, then the Washington bureau chief of The New York Times, and urged him to apply.
Reston replied that he really wanted someone to work for a full year, and would Steve be interested when he graduated in June? Yes, he would. That five-minute chat led to 25 years at the Times.
About the same time, Cokie walked into Wellesley’s guidance office and saw a job listing for a TV production company. It turned out to be a pretty good fit. Then there are friendships. We recently ran into one of Cokie’s college roommates at the movies. Another called the other day to announce that her daughter was pregnant with their first grandchild. A third wrote every week during Cokie’s cancer treatments.
At a recent seminar, Steve sat next to a well-known lawyer whom he had worked with on the Crimson. Another college friend recently hired one of Steve’s students. The fellow who first urged Steve to apply to Harvard — a boyhood buddy — came to our Hanukkah party.
Every college career is also marked by history. In the fall of 1960, Cokie was a newly minted freshman when she attended an election eve rally at the Boston Garden for John F. Kennedy. A few weeks later, Steve watched from the window of his dorm room as the newly elected president strolled through Harvard Yard on his way to a meeting.
Few things, however, are as memorable as romance. Not every college relationship endures, and many shouldn’t, but they all leave a mark.
We met between our sophomore and junior years. But after a couple of dates that fall, Steve chickened out and didn’t call again. The relationship languished until we both decided to attend a student political meeting a few months later in Washington and wound up sharing a ride.
By the next spring we were committed to each other and we’ve been together ever since. That’s why our wedding rings are inscribed “forever spring.”
So good luck, class of 2004. Enjoy your last months of college. And remember: senior year has a way of staying with you. The future is closer than you think.
(Cokie Roberts and Steven Roberts are syndicated columnists.)