It was a memorable week at the University of Notre Dame, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the visit by President Obama.

I graduated from the University of Notre Dame Law School, 20 years ago this week.  Prior to the start of my law school classes, I began to read the book, “1 L”, written by Scott Turow.  “1 L” describes Turow’s experience of attending Harvard Law School in the 1970’s. 

The book scared the heck out of me.  In fact, I couldn’t finish the tome until after I had graduated from law school.  The long delay was caused by Turow’s all too graphic description of his abusive professors and scheming, uber-competitive classmates.  In the end, Turow’s literary work was the antithesis of my Notre Dame journey.   My experience can best be summed up, not by Turow, but by the story of Kevin Cummings, my fellow classmate.

Kevin arrived at ND from the state of Washington.  He made an early impression on many of us, mainly because he insisted on wearing the purple and yellow colors of his beloved Washington Huskies football team.  Early in the fall of that first year, Kevin bitterly complained that Midwestern television stations failed to carry any Huskies football games.  We gently reminded him that few Big-10 games were offered in the Seattle area.  But Kevin couldn’t be placated.  He simply refused to believe that everyone (including Midwesterners) wouldn’t want to watch his glorious Huskies. 

As the colors of fall gave way to the chill of winter, we began to prepare for mid-term exams.  These exams didn’t count toward a grade, but instead offered a method for assessing whether we had any chance of passing our eventual semester exams.  And so, we studied diligently. 

Many first year students retreated to the cavernous law library to prepare for the dreaded midterms.  And each night, at approximately 9 pm, Kevin would saunter into the library.  He would move from table to table of studying students and inquire, “Cheese Popcorn?......Cheese Popcorn?”

Kevin had discovered a small establishment, just off campus, that sold Cheese Popcorn.  In Kevin’s mind, it was a gift from the Gods.  He stumbled upon the place one weekend, and promptly made it a nightly pilgrimage.  And he wanted everyone to enjoy his discovery.  I rarely ate the stuff.  Hot out of the kettle, the popcorn was passably edible.  Slightly cool, it had the consistency of talcum powder on waxed fruit, but not quite that tasty.

Kevin’s nightly ritual through the library, was reminiscent of a Bill Murray type character.  His ambivalence to the stress the rest of us were feeling, put us at ease.  He made us realize that, maybe, we were taking life a little too seriously, if we couldn’t enjoy the simple pleasure of some cheese popcorn.

Similarly, Kevin organized a contingent of law students for a special treat.  Early on a Sunday morning, Kevin corralled a dozen of us to accompany him to his favorite breakfast spot.  Far on the outskirts of town we sat in a down-on-it’s-luck diner that Kevin had also “discovered”.  He claimed it served the best western omlette in the United States (Washington State excepted, of course).  The omlette was certainly an improvement over the cheese popcorn.  As you might imagine, Kevin was on a first name basis with most everyone in the place. We were enjoying unusual aspects of life in South Bend, because Kevin insisted on it.

As exam time approached, Notre Dame was rubbing off on Kevin.  You could see it in his clothes.  His Purple and Gold Husky sweatshirts gave way to Notre Dame attire.  Similarly, Kevin was rubbing off on us.

We approached the exams, not as the students in Turow’s book, who saw their classmates as rivals.  Rather, we were committed to everyone getting through the process together.  Sure, we wanted good grades, but not at the expense of someone else.  We, as a class, simply wanted everyone to make it through, and not take ourselves, or the process, too seriously.  We’d started to eat the popcorn. 

Fast forward eight years (1994), Kevin returned to his beloved Washington, where he began his legal career and a family.  He beamed with pride when his son Connor was born.  And then it came, all too quickly.  Cancer.  Kevin was diagnosed with a fast growing form of cancer, and before Connor turned five, Kevin tragically passed away. 

Before he died, Kevin had one wish….one desire.  And he shared it with just a few friends.  He committed his goal to paper, in a letter that he addressed to someone he would never meet.  Kevin hoped that his four-year-old son, Connor, would be able to attend the University of Notre Dame.

Connor is now 18 years old.  Kevin’s letter (written 14 years ago) was addressed to the Notre Dame Admission’s office.  And Kevin’s classmates stepped forward.  Letters from a host of Kevin’s fellow law students were submitted on Connor’s behalf.  Even a former Law School Dean penned a letter in hopes of making Kevin’s dream a reality. 

And, just this week, word was received.  Kevin’s son, Connor, has been admitted to attend the University of Notre Dame this coming fall.   Around the country, grown men and women shed a small tear of gratitude on behalf of a young man that many hadn’t ever met.

This week’s events were a reminder to many of what Notre Dame is all about.   Notre Dame is not just a collection of buildings.  It’s not a degree.  And it’s not even defined by who might happen to give a graduation speech.  Rather, Notre Dame is an experience.   It creates personal bonds and deep commitments that can’t be broken.  Not by time.  Not by distance.  Not even by death.

And this week, a lucky young man, learned that, he too might share in that experience and fulfill the dreams of his incredible father.   

Congratulations Connor.