The more things change, the more they ...

From out of the blue, I got a phone call the other day from a girl who told me she had my maple wood loft. "Would you want it back?" she asked me. Want it back, I thought, I practically forgot I owned it! I had given it to my friend Vikki to use when she needed a place to lay her head. At the time, Vikki was a campus minister for UCLA as part of Intervarsity. She moved into the “staff house” – which was and has been and may always be dubbed rather matter of factly “449 Landfair.”

During my lunch break, I drove over to Westwood. Students lugged their backpacks up and down the hilly slopes just as I use to do. I was amazed that I had forgotten exactly what streets crossed which. However, one could not mistake the site of 449 Landfair – no, there is not the clause, “in all it’s splendor” to follow that previous phrase. It is still a dull lime green building, slightly timid next to its loud fraternity neighbors. As I walked up the once white painted steps, I noticed the scuff marks, the dirt, and listened to the familiar echo of my footsteps. I remember that sound.



During my time in college, students often came in and out of the apartments in 449 Landfair, making unannounced visits, seeking prayer, counsel or just kicking back to have a good time. We had our annual Bruin Bash there during zero week, a dance party that rivaled the most debaucherous on frat row, sans debauchery and more fun. As I exited the building, I took notice of the stone steps. I remember having many good bye conversations in that very spot. It is funny to return to a place that you didn’t know would turn out to be so significant later on in life.

The little maple loft looks fine. In fact, I like it so much I’m going to take it back at some point during the next weeks. Much like 449 Landfair, it hasn’t changed much. Yet unlike the building, the people who have come and gone have changed a lot.

(And then I had Saks Teriyaki. And thank God, that hasn't changed in quality or price!)