Am I ever ready for the summer to start or what? Blue skies, warm days, going to the beach, barbeques, shorts, T-shirts, girls in shorts and tank tops, you get the idea. It is the best time of the year in my opinion, and thank heaven it is here soon. Don't get me wrong; I love Penn State and all it has to offer. This is a great school. I have an awesome time here with great friends. But each year, as the Spring Semester winds down, and the finals and papers pile up, all I can think about is getting the heck out of here and going home.

Home sweet home, also known as Ephrata in my case, is a small town about 20 minutes northeast of Lancaster, and God how I miss thee. By the end of the school year, I even miss things I never thought I would ever miss, like seeing the horse and buggies backing up traffic. I also, of course, miss things that are expected, like swimming in my uncle's pool with my whole family.

The amount of stress I face in the summer is also a little less severe. I love the fact that when I go to work in the summer, I can wear old jeans, a sleeveless shirt and old boots.

I revel in the fact that my job is playing with the dirt of baseball fields, getting them ready for games. I even get to operate a tractor on the infields. Talk about your ultimate Lancaster Countian's fantasy. In the sweltering afternoon heat, my work partner and I drive our city pickup truck around the town looking busy and making sure everything is under control while stopping at every mini-mart in town to get slushies to reward our hard work.

I come home at the end of each day and eat a home-cooked meal in a clean house (for anyone who has ever seen a fraternity house on a Sunday morning, or pretty much anytime for that matter, this is an unbelievable feeling) and then do whatever I want for the remainder of the night. No worries, no problems. Life is good.

It is not like I'm anxious to go home because it is such an exciting town, with a plethora of activities to keep me entertained. It's just the opposite. It's the simple life I crave, the calm after the storm of eight months at Penn State.

Apart from missing my family, and my cushy job, what drives me to want to go home so badly?

Of course there is the much needed break from classes and the stress that comes with them, but the real reason is the constant — for lack of a better word or use of a profanity — shenanigans that haunt this school.

I'm sick and tired of every day waking up only to read about another crisis to hit this so-called "Happy" Valley.

Whether it is the debate concerning Cuntfest or Sex Faire, or to Rep. John Lawless' antics in attacking the validity of the events at all, there is just always something.

Every time I read another article about who the riots are hurting, or hear about how some ignorant bigot wrote a threatening, racist letter, I yearn just a little more to be driving that '79 Dodge pick-up around Ephrata.

My contempt for all these things just builds all year until I'm so fed up with it, I can't take it. Please, do not think I'm trying to belittle anyone or their causes. A good example is the events that transpired at this year's Blue-White game. The people on the field were just trying to prove a point about racism, but to me right now, it is just another day at the office in Penn State land, another protest, and another reason that I am ready to go home.

I know this is the real world, and these disturbances happen, but that does not mean I have to like it. Being at such a large school seems to intensify it, and the frequency in which they occur is out of control. That is why I love living in a small town — protests, riots, running from police in riot gear, and widespread racist letters are all things that never cross my mind. Sure, bad things happen as they do anywhere, but I've definitely never had to worry about getting maced in the face while crossing Main Street, Ephrata. It is almost like as long as I'm living at home, where I can watch my Comcast SportsNet, I feel safe and secure from the real world.

Soon, it will be time to start the packing and leave the likes of our suddenly infamous Beaver Canyon behind. As I head east on Rte. 322 and the last glimpses of the newly renovated Beaver Stadium fade off in the distance, I will be a very happy homeward-bound man.

But I will also be happy knowing that I will be returning once again in the fall, rejuvenated, motivated and ready for a great year. Let's just hope our football team will be, too.