My Howard University experience was special 

When I first attended Howard University, I was kind of a lost soul. Before enrolling at the historically black college, I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. I didn’t have a basic concept of what exactly I wanted to do with my life. 

But for some reason, leaving California and going away to Howard was always a dream for me, even as a teenager. Growing up, I would hear about some famous Black alum of Howard University doing something big in the world. They could have been actors, celebrities, or even a journalistic marvel. 

And so, I would tell myself that this would be the school of choice for me. That reality didn’t happen until I was in my 30s. By then I had a young son and had already sacrificed 10 years of service as a custodian at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center (now Los Angeles General Medical Center). 

Going to Howard changed my life in a lot of ways. My trajectory in the education system was a high school dropout, going back and grabbing a G.E.D. certificate and then hooking up into the junior college world. 

I bounced around from Los Angeles City College to enrolling at Compton Community College before attending and graduating from Los Angeles Southwest College. 

And then it was all systems go to Howard University. It was myself, the $500 I had in my bank account, and my luggage. Of course, it was not as easy as it was typing these words. Life sometimes comes at you with curveballs and you’d better be ready to hit when it’s your turn to stand at home plate. 

The first day that I arrived at Howard, the school was in the middle of its winter break before the spring semester began. That was in 1994. It was cold. It was my first trip ever to Washington, D.C., and like a West Coast city boy, I was not well-prepared for the type of cold air that the East brokered. 

I thought my lungs were going to burst from the type of cole that would penetrate through all of your clothes. With all of that said God provided me with a couple of angels who guided me through the fundamentals of kindness and human decency as I fumbled about trying to find my dorm location. 

These two individuals, in my opinion, were the reflection of the spirit of Howard University. I befriended this young young lady during my plane ride from Detroit to Washington, D.C. and she was the most kindred of spirits. 

As we chatted, the subject of Howard University came up. She was already a student at the school. I informed her that this would be my first time attending. As we talked, my excitement about attending Howard University was sky-high. Our plane landed at BWI Airport in Baltimore, Maryland, some 40 miles from Washington, D.C. 

With it being in the middle of the night, this young lady and her dad offered me, a stranger, a ride to my dorm.  It was a tremendous blessing. To me, the gesture of kindness was also a display of the greater Howard community, which is giving. 

From the first day I stepped foot on the campus to the day I graduated, I learned that the spirit of giving is part of the Howard way. I realized that the folks at Howard, from students to the administration to the community, were going to have your back. 

I was immensely blessed by the love and warmth shown to me at Howard. I was not a celebrity. I was not a big-time athlete. I was among thousands of students studying and trying to find my lot in life like everyone else. 

Yet the school, the people inside the administration, the community and the students, all rallied around each other. Being at Howard, there was always a sense of if one of us was struggling, whether trying to figure out what the heck statistics was or trying to pull through family drama, we were there for each other. 

Howard became my family. It had become home. One of the most beautiful things for me was being around so many like-minded individuals, the brilliant minds ready to stake their claim in the world. And the majority of them happen to be Black. 

When I attended Howard, I knew where I wanted to be. I knew what I wanted. I knew the school that would best pour into me what I had been seeking. And that was Howard University. That first night was a reflection of my experience at Howard. 

The crazy part of my interaction with this young lady is that I don’t know her name and I only would see her maybe a couple of other times during my time in Washington, D.C. The thing about Howard is that you encounter all these bridges (sometimes nameless) that help you get from one part of your journey to the next. 

I may not know that young woman’s name, but she truly was the first bridge I needed to cross over unto my pathway at Howard. My second bridge was Mr. Bryant. Mr. Bryant oversaw Carver Hall, a former all-male residence hall that has since been converted into an apartment complex. 

I was in a bad situation. It would be a week before the spring 1994 semester would begin. I believed my dorm room was ready on arrival. It turns out that it was not. I was instructed I could not bring my belongings to the dorm for housing because the paperwork had not been solidified. 

I could not move in until a few days before the semester started. Again, it was cold. Mr. Bryant seeing my plight and understanding my dilemma, showed me mercy and allowed me to stay in a vacated dorm room until everything was worked out with the school.     

That first night at Howard does not make up for the four years that I attended the university. It does not bring into account all those sleepless nights I had working at The Hilltop, the school’s newspaper. It does not speak for the dedicated and tight-knit group of bandmates I toiled along with at the School of C. (School of Communications).  

Homecoming was always off the charts. Walking across The Quad was always an experience. Being guided in your educational dreams by caring professors can not be understated. Soaking in the richness of Black culture, Black traditions, and Black legacy shaped and formed me both as an individual and a journalist.   

The pulse of the campus is the students. They make Howard University what it is. And if not for those two bridges I walked across on a very snowy, blistering cold night, I may have never been able to speak about my Howard University experience.

Top Image Caption:  Howard University student volunteer poses in front of College Hall South. Photo courtesy of Howard University