Phil: Just outside Founders Hall is a painted rock. Over the years, the message changed, and each message told a story.
Well, here is my Ashland rock story.
Let me correct that. This is a “we” story, not a “me” story. A modern-day “we” story, born from individual relationships established on campus over 40 years ago. Relationships resulting in a college reunion–and, ultimately, a current-day relationship that positively changed my life.
My wife of 27 years died in 2016. Many of you know the pain and grief following this kind of loss. My heart had a hole seemingly larger than the Grand Canyon. I sought to fill that Grand Canyon, one stone, one rock at a time. The stones, if you will, were fond memories of better days. Better times. Many of those remembrances were from my college days at Ashland (1974-1978).
Over the years, I had buried or forgotten many of those moments; I had lost touch with those who helped create those memories. So, I sought to reconnect with my college buddies, friends and compadres. Among my first connections were Albert Etheart (‘78), Joan Stanbrook (‘78) and Mark Sustarsic (‘80). We met for dinner and, almost immediately, started plans to reunite with other Ashland alumni in the Cleveland area.
As a theme, we decided to reopen the Rathskeller–not at the student union like back in the day–but at Great Lakes Brewing Co. About 40 alumni attended, including Tom Pearce (‘78), who drove over nine hours from New Jersey. Like the locals, he also wanted to reconnect. Almost four decades had gone by, and I wondered if we would have anything to talk about.
No worries…
Distance and years did not diminish the bonds formed during our shared Ashland years. That night, we began plans for homecoming and our 40-year reunion. That evening, as I moved from discussion to discussion, I gathered stones and rocks to fill my Grand Canyon. Unexpectedly, I found a boulder.
Also attending that night was Holle Aungst (‘79). We were on campus together for three years, but we did not know each other, had not met until that night. Yet, our common Ashland experiences made for easy conversation, and a spur of the moment invitation to continue our talks over coffee. And we haven’t stopped talking since.
Tonight, two and a half years later, my story is now “our” story.
