The Loveliest Village

A long day that went far too fast.

Auburn, AL

April 16, 2024

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain;

Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,

Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed

- Oliver Goldsmith, The Deserted Village

Four years ago, our eldest son came to Auburn. In seventeen days, he plans to graduate. As with many milestones, this one came quickly, and is bittersweet. 

He fell in love with Auburn the moment he saw it. So did we. I think everyone does. The campus is lovely, the town charming. Most important, the people couldn’t be nicer. 

Our son’s freshman year was 2020. With “the virus” afoot, uncertainty abounded. But local mothers eased anxiety.

Knowing out-of-town parents worried that a case of the sniffles could put their kid in quarantine, these moms offered meal delivery…and sometimes even places to stay…if students were confined to quarters because they’d “tested positive.”

Fortunately, that never became a problem. But we remain impressed with the kindness of Auburn residents. With stereotypical Southern hospitality, everyone is welcoming, and always eager to help.

And those attractive traits keep being put to use. For better or bitter, the town is growing. In the few years we’ve visited, more people have arrived, and development has intensified. 

As in many college towns, apartment buildings are proliferating. Only rents are rising faster. 

Appealing as the place is, the only problem for us is its location. From the perspective of our pocketbook, it’s on the wrong side of the state line. 

Tho’ only two and a half hours from our home, the last thirty miles comprise three quarters of the cost. But we’re not the only ones willing (or dumb?) enough to pay out-of-state tuition. 

Many Peach Staters come to Auburn, following the footsteps of the first Americans who came to the area. After the Creek Indians were forced out on the Trail of Tears, new settlers crossed the Chattahoochee from neighboring Georgia.

A few years earlier, the Marquis de Lafayette had been ferried over, ceremoniously fêted by the new state of Alabama. Churches and schools cropped up to serve a predominantly planter class.

Wars, Depressions, and Revival

In 1859, East Alabama Male College opened its doors. Two years later, they slammed shut. Most students left the state, off to fight an invading foe. 

Many never returned, and the town languished for several decades. Half a century would pass before Auburn’s population reclaimed antebellum levels. 

During the post-war depression, the college fell under the purview of the state. Rechristened Alabama A&M, its emphasis on agricultural, scientific, and engineering studies began to resuscitate a dying region.

In 1892, Alabama A&M became Alabama’s first four-year college to admit women. As important to the small city’s survival, that was also the year it first fielded a football team. 

This brought much-needed money to the area, which continued to struggle till the Second World War. During that conflict, the school became a hub for martial technology and military training.

When the war ended, the college’s revival resumed. Returning soldiers enrolled in droves. In 1960, the growing university adopted the name of the town, which rapidly expanded around the campus. 

It’s a beautiful place, an apt object of Oliver Goldsmith’s poem. Whenever I’m here, I don’t want to leave. Today is no exception. But knowing parental reasons to return are running slim, the pull to stay is even stronger. 

Lost in Thought

I arrived this morning while my son was in class. A few weeks ago, he invited me to join him at tonight’s baseball game between my alma mater, and the school that’s about to be his.

While waiting to meet him for lunch, I found a familiar seat at Auburn Oil Company Booksellers. In an airy space bounded by shelves of books, students and locals (and at least one visitor) mingle, study, or simply survey the scene. 

It’s a delightful day. Spring has blossomed in the Deep South. Under a warm sun, pedestrians fill sidewalks bordering Magnolia Street, floating by on a refreshing breeze. 

They regularly blow in and out of the bookstore. Some grab a cup of coffee and continue on their way. Many grab a seat, settle in, and devote attention to friendly conversation, open laptops, or small screens. Some even peruse paper pages of actual books!

A few of them might wonder about the middle aged man who’d taken a spot in their space. With fresh coffee fueling thought, he has his own questions about who he is, and marvels how quickly life elapses. 

He recalled his own graduation from college, and the intervening decades since he “survived” Georgia Tech. He endured episodes as an engineer, economist, pricing professional, private investor, and fledgling (often flailing) writer. 

He’s always done relatively well at whatever he tried, even if he struggled to find his professional footing. But he always received solace from solid ground away from the office. With a wonderful wife and two terrific sons, his family rests on firm foundation.

The Last Event

Thru the window, shadows shortened as the sun ascended. From Samford Hall, chimes announced noon had arrived, letting me know it was time to go. I met my son for lunch, after which we spent a couple hours strolling the campus.

Aside from obligatory stops at the Mises Institute and for lemonade at Toomers, we simply enjoyed time catching up before the game began. When it did, I decided to splurge.

The Hall of Fame Club offers complimentary dinner and drink, a cash bar for booze, and plush seating behind home plate. Why not? This is the last event we’d enjoy at Auburn while my son’s still a student. I wanted to do so as best we could.

We had a wonderful time, and were pleased to have more than we’d expected as the game ran long. But when it ended, the hour was late. It was even later in the Eastern Time Zone, where I needed to go.

After grabbing another cup of coffee for the road, I hugged my son, said goodbye, and made the two-hour trek back to Atlanta, arriving in the small hours of a new morning. 

It was a long day in the “loveliest village”. But as with his years at Auburn…and all those since he was born…it went far too fast. 

JD