I Lived It: My Father Introduced Me as ‘My Son Who Goes to Columbia’

Well, it finally happened. After completing three semesters at Columbia University in the City of New York, NY, I finally returned home to see friends and family. My father told me that the neighborhood was going to host a New Year’s Day party and that I should come. The party was going to be held on a neighbor’s patio. I arrived excited, only to see my father in a large group of people. When he motioned for me to come over, fear set in. In that moment, I knew I was moments away from being reduced to a prop, a commodity, mere evidence of his accomplishments. Thoughts of meeting the new neighbors and engaging in jovial conversation quickly washed away, replaced with the knowledge that I was soon to experience a horror shared by CC, SEAS, and GS students alike. The smell of craft beer and homemade queso overcame me. The sight of floral print dresses and flannel jackets began to blind me. The last thing I can remember is my father beginning to say “Hey, everyone, this is my son Fenway. He goes to…”