Returning to Ames for my senior year felt different. For the first time since arriving at Iowa State, I wasn't wondering whether I could make it. The internship had given me something grades alone never could: proof that I could function in the world I was preparing to enter. I had confidence now. Direction. And the growing realization that the life I'd spent four years preparing for was almost here.
I had done what I'd set out to do. I'd survived those difficult early quarters, learned how to study, and pushed my GPA above 3.50. I'd landed an engineering internship and discovered that I could actually do the work. Then, sometime around February or March, the biggest piece fell into place: 3M offered me a job in St. Paul, with a June 1 start date. I also had a place to live lined up with my brother Dave in New Brighton. For the first time in four years, there wasn’t some enormous unknown waiting beyond the horizon. I could finally breathe.
That sense of security probably explains why I relaxed a bit that last month. I still took my finals seriously—this was the finish line, after all—but I also started enjoying the moment a little more. Going out more. Laughing more. Letting myself feel the relief that comes when the hard work has actually paid off. I'd entered senior year with a GPA above 3.50 and had managed to raise it for ten consecutive quarters. Then, with the finish line finally in sight, it dipped during my last two quarters—just enough to put graduating "With Honors" out of reach. Coincidence? Senioritis? An increased appreciation for Ames nightlife? More than forty years later, the investigation remains open. At the time, I'm sure it bothered me. Looking back, I'm glad I finally learned to loosen my grip a little.
The job offer also included moving expenses. Pretty much the only thing I owned, other than the clothes on my back, was a nice stereo system, complete with a TEAC reel-to-reel player and JBL speakers, courtesy of Tony. I had kept all the original packing boxes (who wouldn’t?) and had those 7 boxes ready for “the 3M movers” to show up. I assumed they would arrive in a van. Instead, 3M sent a full-size moving semi that tried to negotiate the tight corners of the Larch Hall turnaround. I still remember walking back from Welch Avenue, spotting this enormous truck in front of the dorm, and wondering whose move could possibly require that monster. Mine.
Finals were over, and all that stood between me and graduation was time—time waiting for my mom, her best friend, and Sue Ann to arrive later that Friday evening. With nothing left to accomplish except remaining conscious until they got there, Kevin decided we should celebrate.
We headed to the Maintenance Shop in the basement of the Memorial Union, one of those places that seemed woven into the Iowa State experience. I promptly demonstrated that an engineering education offered surprisingly little practical preparation for drinking champagne responsibly. Somewhere between late afternoon and early evening, I drank far too much champagne. I remember eating a little. I remember laughing a lot. And I remember eventually lying down on my bed, waiting for everyone to arrive… and promptly passing out.
They did arrive, of course, and I was a little out of it when they showed up. But I came around quick enough to enjoy the night. Later, Sue Ann and I slipped away from everyone and walked out into the open field beside Larch Hall. The campus was unusually quiet, emptied by the end of the school year, and for a while it was just the two of us. After four years apart, we could finally imagine something we'd wanted for years: living in the same city. She had helped carry me through college more than she probably realized, especially during those tougher early years when everything felt overwhelming. She had known me before Iowa State, through the uncertainty, the bad quarters, the homesickness, and the slow process of becoming more confident in myself.
Long-distance love in those days required patience. There were no texts, no FaceTime, no quick check-ins whenever you wanted. There were Greyhound schedules, handwritten letters, and late-night phone calls after 11 when the rates finally dropped. During my sophomore year, she moved near Los Angeles, which turned our already long-distance relationship into something even more daunting. I took the first airplane flight of my life just to see her.
Somehow, despite the miles, she still found ways to surprise me—none more unforgettable than the weekend Jayson picked her up and brought her back to our dorm, where I first spotted her smiling at me while I was in the middle of a dorm drinking game called Thumper, completely stunned and overjoyed. By the time I graduated from Iowa State, that season of waiting and distance was finally coming to an end, and we were both looking ahead with excitement to being together again in the Twin Cities, no longer separated by miles, schedules, or time zones. It felt good to be together again.
The next day was graduation. Most of the campus had emptied out due to summer break. Caps and gowns. Reserved seats. Cameras everywhere. I had expected something formal and orderly. What I found instead was joyful chaos. Graduation was held in Hilton Coliseum, packed with thousands of students and their friends and family. There was no way they could call every name. The master’s and doctorate students got their moment, but the rest of us stood together—Engineering, Spring of ’81—called as a group. Mortarboards were decorated. People were being goofy. And yes, champagne was being passed around on the floor where we were seated.
It felt less like a ceremony and more like a celebration. And honestly, that fit. We had earned it. We received our diplomas and took photos outside the dorms. I still have some of those pictures tucked away somewhere, frozen proof that this moment really happened. By the end of the day, the four of us piled into my mom’s car and headed home. The drive back to New Lisbon took six hours, plenty of time to let everything sink in. Everything felt light. Everything felt possible.
I took one week off before starting work. I spent it painting my mom’s house. That next weekend, I drove to St. Paul, moved in with my brother, and got a quick preview of where I’d be working. Then Dave headed off on a fishing trip to Canada, leaving me alone in the house.
No long transition. No summer break. Just a weekend, an empty house, and the knowledge that Monday morning I was expected to show up as an engineer.
On June 1, 1981, I walked through the doors at 3M wearing badge No. US240103. College was officially behind me. The diploma was finished, the moving truck had brought my few treasures, and for the first time in my life I wasn't preparing for a career. I had one.
But my path to that 3M badge hadn't been as inevitable as it might seem looking backward. Before continuing with what happened inside those doors, there's one more story from my senior year worth telling.
Because I almost went somewhere else entirely.