In a couple of days it will be time to come home.

People from across the county and across the country - those who are 20-something and those born in 1920-something. Business executives, artists, writers, scientist, teachers. Men and women who spent their college years in Athens when lamb-chop sideburns were hip or when prohibition replaced Court Street's watering holes with soda fountains. Some go by "Mom" and "Dad." And some remember it all from just last year.

This weekend, old-school Bobcats unite. Despite the different eras, store-fronts and drink specials they remember, they come back to catch a glimpse of their alma mater, packing "remember when" stories, fun Ohio University facts and a few fearless attempts to re-enact the days of old.

So, you see, it is a family reunion of sorts-a pretty dysfunctional one, at that. And we call it Homecoming.

It's like the backyard family pig roast, complete with generations of relatives seated in a circle of lawn chairs, swapping stories and updates and digressing into detailed accounts of the past. And while the cooler contents lower and the sun sets, the youngins' become more rambunctious and the old ones trap themselves in a hazy zone of memories.

When alumni, both new and old, come to OU for the weekend, you're likely to see a similar scene-seasoned Bobcats naming their old dorms, favorite dives and the "in" spots. Then there's landmark points of interest, invariably followed by wild accounts and often finished with phrases like, "I remember it like it was yesterday," or "I wonder what they're up to now."

Homecoming is a weekend when the campus swims with a magnetic pride and energy, and it's not just the pre-gaming portion of the student body. It's everyone. There is a certain untamed spirit inherent in those who call OU home. It's a spirit you can see, and it's not about Bobcat sportswear or window stickers, an institution on your resume or even a degree. It's a laughing, cheering, grinning pride. It's meeting OU grads who can't wait to brag they went there, too, and want to know "How's Athens?" It's those of us here now who can't imagine what it's going to be like when we leave. It's an ego, in a way, and we all have it. It's a spunk, a characteristic you can't quite put your finger on, but you know when you share it with someone else.

And it's in the stories, like the ones we'll soon tell.

"Remember when the bar was on the other side of the C.I. and the Junction was Igor's with caged dancers upstairs?"

"That Court Street Diner was a hotel in my day."

"We used to dive out of dorm windows into the flooded West Green in my day."

"East Green was nick-named Hog Island way back when."

"I never did make it to too many classes in the spring after walking by the "Front"ier Room patio in Baker Center...and stopping for a drink with my friends."

"J-Prom every spring."

"Of course, there was a time when a quarter draft wasn't a drink special, and 3.2 beer was on tap."

"Back in 1970 we evacuated campus after the Kent State shootings -no graduation ... no finals."

"How about Green Beer Day - St. Patty's Day was like Halloween today, you know."

"There were protests all the time-I remember my roommate getting clubbed by the Athens Police Department."

"Follett's was a soda fountain during prohibition, and there was dancing in the basement."

"You can't drive up Morton Hill anymore?"

Yes, there are stories. Same places, same insanity, different people, different date. We'll tell them with the same grin, like we're warped back into "OU time." We'll tell them 10 times, adding a new twist with each tale. And like many of the "family" coming home this weekend, we'll tell them while pointing out key spots.

And there are friends who haven't been gone that long who will tell stories of "the real world" that will make us anxious, but relieved because we're in the OU bubble... where you say "hi" to people you don't know; weekends start on, well, depends on the week; College Green makes OU look like a "brochure university"; buggies line the street like a full-time circus; Court Street looks like a pedestrian highway where rush hour hits at 2:10 a.m.; and the main drag is nothing but bagels, books and beer.

Alumni will be back in their own bubble for the weekend, too - they might even try to get a quarter draft or add to a tab started in 1968.

After all, that's what Homecoming's all about, isn't it? While it's my last year of Homecoming as a student (unless I get going on that five-year plan) surely, next year I'll be home, too. As for this year, I'll enjoy what is so great about not being an alumna - I can do it all again next weekend.

By the way ... this column is dedicated to my dad, who thinks he might still have a tab at The Townhouse (Skipper's) and my mom, who enjoys a cheap draft from the College Inn (C.I.) where she met my dad 30 years ago. And it is dedicated to my friends who graduated and will bring back some of our stories this weekend. See you at kegs and eggs, where the dysfunctional family reunion starts promptly at 8 a.m.

Yes, Hampshire is cheesy this week. And her Bassett Hound, Maggie, is the only immediate family member who isn't a Bobcat. Special thanks to alumni whose stories I listen to more carefully than they know. Drop line at hamp@frognet.net.. Until then, I'll live every moment until the "Last Call."