Two things you can always count on

Last Friday I went to a symposium at the University of Chicago. My colleagues/friends/landlords (not in that order) Tim and Joanna made up the three-some and we cleverly called it a "retreat" because we planned to have dinner together afterward. The symposium was an oral festschrift for one of the biggest scholars/clinicians in my field -- a woman who studies, writes about and incorporates into her practice spirituality, diversity and family resiliency. This sounded like something we'd be willing to shell out $120 plus traveling expenses and loss of a day's income for.

When we got to the campus and walked the short distance to the School of Social Service Administration, I was briefly charmed by the stately, gothic buildings and all the young, mostly bright faces of students hurrying to class. There is something magnetic about a university campus, especially an old, rich, famous university like U of C. Sometimes, just every now and then, (pretty rarely actually), I see myself on a campus teaching again. This past Friday was one of those rare occasions.

But it only took 5 minutes into the first presentation for me to remember why I left academia in the first place......the rampant narcissism. Oh, and the agonizing tedium of the academic process of doing anything -- by committee and very slowly. The folks involved in this Symposium would make their academic mamas proud because the introducers of the presenters had introducers.

You read that right.....it went like this: there was a peon-type person in the field who introduced a middle tier person in the field who then introduced the big-whig speaker. Sadly, the 8 presentations themselves, with the exception of 1 or 2, were disappointing, with lots of droning on and on about "my study this" and "my study that." This goes to show that some things never change.

After 7 hours of sitting on a backless bench and trying to stay awake, we "retreated" uptown to Lincoln Park for a little S & P (shopping and people watching). Then we went a little further north for dinner at a new Italian restaurant called Il Fiasco (except for a red wine incident, it wasn't). The restaurant had been recommended by a friend of Joanna's and we weren't sure exactly where it was. As we looked for the address, I realized that we were in my old stomping grounds. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped as I took in all the changes that had taken place since I left the City 8 years ago. A trendy restaurant? In my old neighborhood?? And look at that new place! And THAT new place!! Those look really cool!

I probably sound like one of those people that thinks when they move the place they left becomes frozen in time, as a sort of memorial to their presence. I know that doesn't happen. It was just a lot of change in what seemed like a short time. So, along with my very pricey 6 CEUs, I brought home a lingering wistfulness for certain parts of an old life, but a bigger sense of gratefulness that things are always changing.