Join the Celebration

Bicentennial Calendar  |  In Your Words  |  Submit Your Story  |  Plan Your Visit

In Your Words

Miami merger still possible long after graduation

By Victoria Sheridan Hart '83

Getting the mail each day isn't the exciting ritual I remember as a child. As a youngster, there was always the anticipation of a letter from Grandma or a cousin. Perhaps there was a note from a summer camp friend or a pen pal arranged through a school project. Now, it's mostly bills and junk mail. Communication from friends comes in the form of e-mail or phone calls.

But every February our mail carrier puts a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye when she delivers our Miami Merger Valentine card.

I have always been a goal-oriented individual. I credit my Miami education to helping me set my goals high and showing me how to build my skills in the classroom and beyond. Becoming a Miami Merger was never my goal. I heard about those girls who went to college for their "MRS" degree. That was not me.

In fact, I didn't meet many of them at Miami. I listened to the romantic stories told on campus by tour guides and representatives from the Alumni Relations office about the number of Miami Mergers—when two Miami grads fall in love and marry. I could envision the notion, but I was not the lead actress.

For me, dating at Miami was a way to meet new and interesting people from different places. Sometimes, it was an opportunity to be invited to a fun fraternity party or someone else's dorm formal. Occasionally, it was because I just needed a date for my own formal, or some "really nice guy" was hunting for a date to his formal, and someone thought of me. Love and marriage were never the objectives.

Fast forward six years after graduation. My career was going well, I had great friends, and I'd kissed a few frogs that never seemed to turn into princes. The grass always appeared greener, and at this point I was longing for the pastures of Oxford, Ohio, and all those amazing young men that I didn't appreciate when I was there. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to this Miami Merger story.

Just when I was ready to give up and accept my calling as a single person, a co-worker, who is also a Miami grad, invited me to a new restaurant owned by a friend of a friend. My co-worker was recruiting bodies to help host a great opening night. The networking skills she learned at Miami were being put into action.

When I arrived, my friend approached me and said, "Oh, I'm so glad you're here. See that guy at the bar? He just moved here from Houston. I knew him at Miami. When he called to say he just moved to Columbus, I invited him. He doesn't know anyone here. Go talk to him."

I had never seen him before. He didn't even look slightly familiar. Yet, our days at Miami overlapped for two years. How could that be? Doesn't everyone in Oxford look familiar when you live in Oxford?

Comparing experiences, we had so many similarities, but we had always just missed each other. We both spent our freshman years in East Quad, but two years apart. We both washed dining hall dishes for our spending money, but in different dining halls. We studied in different libraries. I was a communications major, he was a business major. Slim chance of a common class. Our common, but separate experiences in Oxford gave us plenty to talk about.

A one-year courtship was followed by a six-month engagement and almost 19 years of marriage (and counting). Our oldest son is now a senior in high school and will soon be making his college choice. We have visited lots of college Web sites and been on many college tours. Miami is on his short list, but the choice will be his. I chuckled on the campus tour when the guide proclaimed that 11 percent of students at Miami are products of Miami Mergers.

"That's you," I whispered! He wasn't amused. He doesn't get it. But that's OK. Neither did I at his age.