The Good Ol’ Days Are Still Here With Me

The Good Ol’ Days Are Still Here With Me

This morning my husband and I took our kids on a somewhat spontaneous trip down memory lane. Crawling Driving up the 405 on our way home from a far-too-quick trip to Southern California, Big needed to stop (shocking, I know). It just so happened we were a couple exits away from Wilshire Blvd and we knew just where we’d go: UCLA. We drove through Westwood and walked around campus pointing out all kinds of places we loved back in our college days—places we drank ate, places we lived, places we became who we are today.

As I pointed out the houses we called home for years, I got teary. Some of those tears were purely nostalgic. How could they not be? I had flashbacks of late nights in the pit (our basement) laughing myself silly while learning about life from some of the smartest, most ambitious girls I’d ever met. I remembered late-night Charlie’s Angels poses on the dance floor with the girls, lazy afternoons watching football game after football game with the guys and so much more.

But what made the strongest impression on me wasn’t the past, it was the present. Because as we talked, we were able to tell the boys not only did we live in those houses, many of our closest friends—many of their closest friends’ parents—lived in those houses too.

I realized that UCLA is really where our family—who we are today—began. It’s where my sentimental husband not only swept me off my feet, but proposed (many, many years later). It’s where a Communications professor encouraged a friend and me to find our “voices” writing a his & hers column for the Daily Bruin. It’s where a couple older (and oh-so-much-cooler) sorority sisters took a chance on me for advertising internships, which led to a career and more life-long friends.

Sure, I love looking back and remembering the wonderful times I had while at UCLA. (As pictures will prove, I wore far fewer wrinkles and pounds—LA’s vain side causes the Freshman 15 to work in reverse—seriously). But I also love knowing that I got so much more than a diploma and some fun memories from my time there. I left with a fun-loving, supportive family—one that’s far bigger than the three boys living under my roof.


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  1. says

    Had the chills the whole time reading this.

    And for a second, thought you were going to go into that infamous night in the “pit”!

    That will stay within the bond. 😉

    Can’t wait to take my boys UCLA.


  2. Amy says

    Yes, there are some stories that are not blog worthy…well, not on this blog at least! :) Loved the time we spent together in Westwood and love that our friendship is still so wonderful today — even if we don’t get to see each other often. Now…to fix that…

    • Amy says

      As you know, good friends make some of life’s craziness a bit better. Hope today has you and your family smiling!

  3. Sam says

    I love this article! Suzannah, I can’t believe you mentioned that night…that was truly too funny! So many amazing memories! Thank you so much Amy for bringing it all back!

    • Amy says

      I love that we have so much in common still today and can be in touch even though we’re not sharing an icky bathroom or dirt dessert!

  4. Mary says

    It’s so amazing getting to be neighbors with your dear college friend! Our kids our so lucky to be great friends, and we’re so lucky to share so much of our lives with your beautiful family:) Thank you UCLA- you started it all!

    • Amy says

      Who would have thought it could get any better than it was back then? I love sharing life’s special moments with you and your wonderful family — practically everyday!

  5. Nancy G says

    This was so touching… I guess b/c part of it was about my fond memories of UCLA. So fun that you got to show your boys our old stomping grounds. I went back to Kappa w/ Casey and Allie, and it was such a crazy feeling being there. SO many memories that we shared w/ some of the girls there, who were SO young. It was great fun remembering it all! Thanks for the tiny trip down memory lane.


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