This one's for you, OU

There are certain times of year that always make me think of Athens:

Mid-week afternoons in the spring when the weather has just warmed, and I fondly remember watching people blow off class to spend afternoons on the green, on their porches or for a very early happy hour.

Summer days when it's too hot to do anything, and I think of my junior year when I spent my summer in Athens, taking two courses, working at Sonic (yes, I worked at Sonic) but mostly spending time at the community pool and loving the fact that the bars weren't packed elbow-to-elbow.

The first snow. So many memories there sledding down any number of A-Town's hills, driving to the theater in Nelsonville, and layering sweatpants and sweatshirts just to make the walk from our house off Mill to Court Street.

But the time of year that makes me truly miss Athens is fall. There's something about the leaves turning that takes me back to that drive into town on Highway 32 (or 33, or whatever) and catching that first glimpse of school, with the Hocking snaking its way around the Convo, football field and South Green, and the entire place seemingly hugged by the orange-yellow of fall.

Then you drive into town, and the cobblestone streets create a familiar rhythm under your tires as you watch co-eds walk in and out of the bookstore, complaining (again) about the cost of books but having no regrets about spending $100 on new sweatshirts and sweatpants that proudly declare "OHIO."

If you're lucky, you find parking somewhere on Court Street and accept the fact that you WILL get a ticket or towed because you WON'T remember to feed the meter after two hours. But it's worth it, just to get beer cheese soup from The Pub or play cornhole while eating pizza at Courtside.

And maybe hopefully you head down the road to the football game, where maybe hopefully we've got the team and the steam for a victory. If nothing else, you'll get to watch The Most Exciting Band in the Land (which, by the way, all Bobcats knew was awesome long before that YouTube video).

Fall in Athens means many things: new classes, new people, old flames, old habits. It means crashing through piles of leaves on College Green after you dodged the people who stand there and distribute (usually worthless) handouts. It means going to a Greek party just to see if this year, they can convince you that their parties are so much cooler and again, you realize that their parties are the same as every other party.

Fall means building up your tolerance: for a billion walks up Morton Hill or those wooden stairs behind Mill Street; for professors who don't understand that Thursday night is a "going out" night; for watching freshman try to get into parties when you know they are underage; for drinking keg beer (from a plastic cup or straight from the nozzle, depending on how you got down).

I graduated six years ago and haven't made it back to my beloved Athens. I often wonder if I go back, will it be the same? I have certainly changed from that liberal, hippie college chick who could close down the bars and still wake up early enough to write my feminist columns for The Athens NEWS. I'm now a liberal, hippie momma who prefers red wine and going to bed early.

But I guess part of you never truly leaves Athens. You'll always smile knowingly when you meet someone else who went to OU. You'll always miss that feeling of safety, of true community that somehow manifests as soon as your feet hit the ground. You'll always get annoyed every time you hear some idiot Buckeye fan say, "THE Ohio State University."

And you'll always feel a twinge of sadness when so many of your friends' Facebook statuses are about going back for homecoming, and you know that yet again, you won't be able to go.

So today, as I enjoy a fall afternoon in North Carolina with my soon-to-be-1-year-old future Bobcat, I'll think of my alma mater and be thankful that my college years gave me a great education, endless opportunities and countless friendships and memories.

Here's to all my Bobcats, here's to Athens, here's to Ohio University. You can graduate from OU, but part of you will never feel gone.

Editor's note: As an OU journalism student, Kate Meier served as a campus reporter and wrote an (almost) regular column for The Athens NEWS. She also had the good (or mis-) fortune to take a news-writing class at OU taught by Athens NEWS Editor Terry Smith.