After 35 years, it was time to go home.

For the first time since I graduated from Central Michigan University, I attended homecoming at my old stomping grounds. More accurately, I tailgated at the homecoming game.

Joining my son Gabe – a second-generation CMU Chippewa – and his friends at their pregame party, I soon realized I no longer had game. This was going to be nothing like the tailgating I did when I was a mullet-wielding student, sporting a popped collar and pegged jeans.

Nobody brought a boom box. Nobody brought a Frisbee. And there wasn’t a bottle of Boone’s Farm in sight.

Then Gabe and his gang reminded me what it was all about. We just hung out without a care in the world, entertained each other, did some serious people-watching, hunted for places to pee and had a great tim

See Full Page