Acceptance Letter

 So yesterday was when U Florida emailed its decisions about acceptance for the incoming class. I guess they usually do it the last Friday of February, and send the emails after the offices close, lest they be bombarded with whining students and parents. The day brought back memories.

Locally, a favorite neighbor Matthew got his good news. He and his brother Zach remind me a LOT of Scott and Josh -- my nephews of another brother. Matthew, like Scott, is tall and sports obsessed -- he's the team photographer for the Palmetto sports teams. He's a top student, and also a Silver Knight nominee -- so I was pretty confident he'd get in, but these days, as UF is a top school essentially free for Florida residents, the competition is fierce. We know plenty of kids who got into Ivy League schools and then rejected from UF -- particularly private high school applicants, as UF must figure if Mom and Dad can afford $40k per year for high school, they can afford to send junior to Emory, Duke, or one of the other private colleges.

Matthew will soar there. He's very social, and will likely join a fraternity. Zach is quieter and about to find out what it's like to be an only child for his high school years. He's a smart and sweet kid, too.

And of course I thought back to the years of '05 and '10. In D1's day, UF had early decision, where they let you know and you promise to attend, and she got right in. That meant the drama of her senior year final semester was over -- she already knew where she was going to college and could focus on her studies and holding a secret enormous party (I invision "Risky Business" without, hopefully, the prostitution) when we left her to house and dog sit the Summer after graduation, when D2 was off in her sole session of summer camp in North Carolina.

It's funny. Now HER sons are closer in time to starting college than D1 is from her freshman year. Sunrise; sunset. She looks at her sweet 3 year old and can't imagine letting him move away. But, Big Man willing, it'll happen.

By D2's senior year, early decision was gone, and she had the February drama. I was pretty confident she'd get in -- she was in the top 5% of her large Palmetto High class -- pretty sure no Bs were involved during 4 years of high school, but there was still tensosity. I recall several of her friends and her gathered around the desktop we used to have in the "breakfast knock," as my late suegra called the nook.

D2 squealed with delight, as did another friend. I believe it was Catherine, now a pregnant, married lawyer living in Atlanta, and here this weekend as a fellow bridesmaid with D2 for their dear friend Tara' wedding. I think another girl was Carly, who at first inputted the info wrong and was crestfallen at not getting in -- especially as both her parents and older brother were Gators -- but after realizing the glitch, knew she would be going to Gville, too! The three became sorority sisters there.

In D2's case, she got nearly a full scholarship to my beloved alma mater, the U. She said she would have considered going if UM were a few hours away, but wanted to get away from her creepy Dad, who still walked the campus for coffee and lunch. She chose wisely.

Beginning in the Fall of 2006, there were MANY trips to UF. For D1's first two years, there was no non stop jet service, so flights were on turboprops, or the 5.5 hour drive. I remember one early trip, when D1 had a medical issue, and Barry got her the top doc at Shands, where he attended med school. I flew up, rented a car, and took D1 to her very early appointment. The Big Man shined on us -- it wasn't too serious -- she could get on with her college life normally. I cried in the rental car after dropping her off at her dorm. My flight home wasn't until 2, and so I decided to just drive the rental car back to Miami. I hadn't eaten, and by the time I got to the northernmost Turnpike rest stop, was starving. It must have been about 930 am, and I feasted on KFC -- it was the best fried chicken breakfast I ever had.

D1 graduated in Spring of '10, and that Fall D2 started what would become 5 years -- an extra year to add on a Master's degree. By then, American had brought back Eagle jet service, twice a day, and I became a loyal patron. Wifey, too, but back then her bad back kept her close to home except for major events like Mom's weekends at the sorority and the two graduations for D2.

Probably my favorite trip was an AA flight, and then pick up at GNV, and then  a visit to the Union with Catherine for her and D2's junior year induction into Phi Beta Kappa. The two of them sort of shrugged it off, though getting in as a junior as a big F-ing deal, to borrow from then VP Biden. After we had a celebratory dinner, and I beamed. D2 is our family's only Phi Beta Kappa.

After NINE! years of visits to Hogtown, as it used to be called, I sort of proclaimed my visits there would end. Of course Fate laughed, and after D1 and Joey married, Hurricane Irma came, and we fled to Atlanta. On the drive home, we stopped for breakfast at a famed coffee/bagel place in a Target parking lot, and looked for gas. There was no gas. But we found open stations on the Turnpike, run by the National Guard like a military refueling operation, and made it safely home to Miami. Somehow Gainesville called me again.

Will there be grandchild college trips there? Dare I dream? I do dare. We already prepaid tuition for both grandsons, though they can use the benefit at any college. So time will tell. Big Man willing, the oldest will be spending February of 2038 waiting to hear. Imagine that!

Back to the present -- go get 'em, Matthew! I hope you get to see the Canes beat the Gators during the two games they're scheduled to play -- at UF and the following year back here. 

And I know his parents will savor the time. Probably my favorite time as a Dad, other than the Ds' weddings and the birth of the grandsons, was when they came home from college -- all adult and crap -- and sharing tales of that exquisite time of life. And as for Wifey, they praised her by realizing many of their college friends' Moms messed them up FAR more than Wifey messed up the Ds! That's the highest praise you can hope for.