Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, November 30, 1993 TAG: 9311300052
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: Stephen Foster
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Almost three years ago, I was walking across a stage to pick up a piece of paper - a degree in English from Virginia Tech. Uncertain of my direction (read: no job offers), I decided to "hang around" Blacksburg for a while.
In the space of time it takes to sit through a graduation ceremony suffering from a hangover and pats-on-the-back syndrome, I became - gasp! - a "townie."
I liked it. Despite the nagging worries about my supposed duty to move up and out, I loved the free time, worked a job that let me meet lots of people and wasn't worried - yet - about my virtual poverty and student loans about to come due.
In short, I liked living short-sightedly.
But in a few months, my life turned topsy-turvy with the onslaught of the college student's rhetorical goal: making it in the real world.
In short succession I'd:
be fired from my job as a weiner-slinger (in retrospect, thanks, boss);
be further introduced to the world of strained labor-management relations by getting ripped off by a building contractor for a then-extremely important $40;
get hired for a "real" job of dubious worth, as a reporter working for a tiny, newspaper in a town whose biggest claim to fame is its annual peanut festival;
trade my rusty ragtop heap in for a car deemed more trustworthy, only to have that clunker clunk its last clunk, leaving me without wheels, in debt and cashless.
I was scared.
But then, some force from above must've felt pity for me, and sent me two almost-angelic favors: a car provided by a cousin - and a job as an editorial assistant at this newspaper's Roanoke office.
I returned.
And now, two years later, I've returned even further.
1993 brings me back to the New River Valley as a reporter - and back to Blacksburg as a townie.
Sometimes you have to get away to grasp in full what change has wrought, or appreciate what has endured.
There are the old watering holes.
There's South Main Cafe, Wednesday home of the premier Grateful Dead-soundalike band, The Kind. There's The Cellar, still shadowy and niche-like in all its ways - and with the best pizza around. But both have expanded. There's still that place to see close-to-the cutting-edge music acts - what is it now? Oh yes, Eat at Joe's - used to be Buddy's, used to be Morgan's, used to be Daddy's Money, used to be . . .
There's plenty of new restaurants, sports bars and name-changes.
On campus, Squires Student Center has established itself as a hub. Before, Squires stayed perpetually boarded up: closed from my freshman year until just after I left. There's a new dormitory on the field where I played pickup games of soccer and softball. The student newspaper, The Collegiate Times, looks brighter; none of its staff worked with me.
I won't even expound on the New River Valley Mall area. A fast-food joint or retail store has popped up for every month I've been gone, it seems.
But the most dramatic change of all - the friends. Virtually all of them are gone. That's the nature of a college town, the nature of the college experience.
I'm not in college anymore. I keep running into a few chums, recognize faces here and there, but for the most part, all the old buds have moved on.
But that's OK; I stay in touch with the friends who've left, and I look forward to meeting the ones to come. There's oh-so-many different people here, many young or young-thinking,from all over the country and the world - people to meet, future friends.
And there are still the mountains, and the trails, and the New River in the summer. Winter in Blacksburg seems more wintry than winter in Roanoke. It's easier going here, with more excitement on the weekends.
So while I've got my "real-world" responsibilities (read: work hard and get the job done) these days, and time doesn't seem as carefree or bountiful, I do have the advantage of pretty-well knowing the town.
Glad to be back.
by CNB