It’s that special time of year again. The leaves are turning, the mercury’s dropping, and all the alumni are wandering back to campus to perform the ancient ritual of homecoming. Many see this as a season of celebration: graduates reunite with old friends at old bars, and there’s a football game maybe, which is exciting in its own aggressively competitive way. But I fear that amongst all the nostalgic drinking and athleticism, we ignore those for whom homecoming is a much more somber, sobering time. A time to reflect on all that has changed, and not for the better.

“There used to be a family of ‘coons that lived out back of the basketball stadium,” Mike Franklin, ’84 told me while sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. “The matriarch of the clan was named Deborah. She had this way of following you with her eyes that gave me a real boost some days when I needed it. It’s, honestly hard to believe the ‘coons are all gone now…”

For Hank Silver, ’97, it’s not what the College has lost that’s been so hard to process, but rather, what it has gained. “When I came here the whole campus was moss-free. It was the main factor in me choosing this school. Now, it’s just…it’s everywhere…they’ve opened the floodgates and now there’s moss on the trails, on the buildings, it’s creeping onto everything…” Silver then glanced over his shoulder and quickly dashed away into the woods crying “NO MORE LIES” and vanished from my sight.

Change is hard to process, especially change in a place that had been your home for four years. The balance between newness and nostalgia is difficult, as President of University Development Rebecca Gallagher told me. “There are some things we know are very important to keep the same. It’s important for the school’s image. Our mailbox keys have been the same size and shape since 1707. But there’s other times when change is necessary. Like for a while there in the ‘50s everything was orange. Bricks, chairs, books, the whole shebang. That’s something that just had to give.”

As time treads on its endless, vicious path, some things are lost by necessity as the culture continues to shift. The once-popular hoop skirt club gave way years ago to the hoop-a-doop dance company, a staple on campus these days. Conversely, some groups have stood the test of time, such as the Glenn Miller Appreciation Society, whose membership has continued to grow by leaps and bounds over the past several decades.

The unity and intergenerational beauty of homecoming is impossible to ignore. And as it was set forth in the ancient halls of Montezuma, this tradition isn’t going anywhere soon. But as we watch and cheer and drink our beer, let us take a moment to remember all that has been lost to time’s cold caress.

“It certainly isn’t how I remember it,” said Cindy Cramer, class of 2014. “But then that’s the thing about memories. The float to and fro like a balloon made of vapor, forever elusive. And no matter how high you may leap, or how badly you may wish to touch it once again, it’s always just a few inches out of your grasp. Always.”