Every February, students frantically clean their rooms and staffers search fruitlessly for parking spaces as hundreds of families arrive for Parents' Weekend, hoping to experience a slice of life here on the Farm. The campus braces for the onslaught—but what's it like for Mom and Dad? Charles Cohen chronicles a weekend bonding with his son, Jonathan, '03.
Thursday, February 22
Noon. Arrive in Palo Alto from Chicago. Lose two hours, gain 50 degrees. The sun is shining. Meet son in front of dorm. Smiling. Happy. Is he taller? Are we shorter? Hug privileges are granted. No kissing.
12:15 p.m. Lunch. He chooses charming French bistro in Menlo Park. Orders steak and pommes frites. Between bites discusses Survivor, Temptation Island, Stanford basketball. Courses are mentioned, briefly.
1:30 p.m. Return to his room. Recently "cleaned." Much evidence of ancient snacks. Food, books, clothing cover majority of floor. Mother faints on the used couch.
1:45 p.m. Mother—upon reviving—begins to clean room. Gives up after uncovering second layer of mess.
3:00 p.m. Drive son to Maples Pavilion to relieve friend in line for front-row seats in Sixth Man section. Notice he brings book. Happy parents.
7:00 p.m. Arrive at Maples for Washington State basketball game. Watch son across floor in Sixth Man section: yelling, singing, insulting and, most impressive, jumping. Remark to wife if he had jumped that high while playing high school basketball, he would definitely have gotten more rebounds . . . not to mention athletic scholarship.
9:00 p.m. Meet him after game for late dinner. He suggests charming Italian trattoria in Palo Alto. No steak on menu. Settles for pizza.
10:30 p.m. Drop him at dorm. He laughs when we ask if he plans to go to sleep soon.
Friday, February 23
9:45 a.m. Panel discussion with students and faculty about undergraduate research opportunities. Summers in the Arizona desert observing ant colonies, winters in China learning about women gymnasts and spring vacations in Mexico helping migrant workers. Resolve to ask son if he plans to spend spring vacation in Acapulco helping migrant workers. Already know answer.
Noon. Awaken son from two-hour nap following grueling 9 a.m. class. Son's voice brightens when mother mentions that we will take his laundry into laundromat. Invites us to his room to procure laundry.
12:15 p.m. Lead a hesitant mother to the room. Thankfully, no new food on floor. Talk to roommate and various people who drop by. Everyone friendly, charming, unconcerned with lack of space on floor to put down feet. Ignore crunching sounds.
12:30 p.m. Shown well-stuffed laundry bags. Wonder if I should call my chiropractor before attempting to pick them up? Son mentions he is looking forward to seeing shirts and pants that have been at bottom of bag since September.
12:45 p.m. Laundromat weigh-in: 37 pounds. Staff applauds. We make reservations for nice dinner.
3:30 p.m. Attend fascinating class by Dr. Frederic Luskin on the art and science of forgiveness. Wife and I agree to forgive laundry bill.
7:30 p.m. Dinner with other parents and son's friends at charming Mexican restaurant in Palo Alto. Although at far end of table from son, manage to hear the order "steak fajitas" quite clearly.
9:30 p.m. Ask if he wants to meet us at 9:30 lecture tomorrow. Son not familiar with concept of Saturday at 9:30 in the morning.
Saturday, February 24
11:00 a.m. Pick up laundry. Laundromat staff applauds.
Noon. Deliver laundry to dorm. Sit and rest after bringing it up to third floor.
12:30 p.m. Lunch at another charming Italian trattoria in Palo Alto. Son searches for word "steak" on menu. Settles for pasta.
2:30 p.m. Drop son off at Maples to join friends in line for the 5:00 U. of Washington game. Meet many students we have seen making funny faces on tv. They appear normal when not looking at camera.
5:00 p.m. Game. Once again marvel at ability of son to leap to heights previously unimaginable. Sit in loge section with old-time season-ticket holders. Discuss Hank Luisetti's contributions to the creation of the jump shot in the '30s. Feel years younger.
7:00 p.m. Immediately after game (6,000 spectators, 7,000 cars) drive from Maples to Ford Center. Two blocks, 25 minutes. Watch gymnastic meet. One of son's draw group on team. Many short males with big muscles.
8:30 p.m. Dinner at charming Italian ristorante. More parents and numerous students. Son, at far end, announces at start of meal that he is passing me something. As it comes down the table, smiles of anticipation appear on other students' faces. It is, as I guess, the wine list. Decline to order from it. Smiles disappear. Can't hear son's order but sense the word "steak" is part of it.
11:00 p.m. Parking-lot farewells between students (checking their watches) and parents (trying to extend hug time). Son, overcome by desire to return to campus and various parties, finally agrees to one last meal (brunch) tomorrow.
Sunday, February 25
Noon. Son appears, bleary-eyed, outside dorm. Selects a second charming French bistro in Menlo Park. Is delighted when he discovers steak and eggs on menu.
1:30 p.m. Return to room. Amount of food on floor has not appreciably increased since our arrival. Therefore feel our visit has proved invaluable to success of son's college career. Goodbye hugs. Still no kisses.
2:00 p.m. So long, Stanford. Wonder if son will become vegetarian by next Parents' Weekend? Doubt it.
Charles Cohen, is an advertising and marketing consultant in Highland Park, Ill., and the author of four novels.
