Last year I met an 89-year-old woman who was a freshman at Penn State in 1930. That was her first taste of State College, and, 70 years later, she is still a resident. It's incredible to think how much the town changed right around her in those seven decades.

I was amazed by her stories of Penn State in the '30s. She told me she lived in Stone House, which is now just a rock next to the gazebo with a plaque on it. But to her, that spot on the HUB lawn will always be full of memories of friends and her time at Penn State.

Talking to her made me wonder what would happen if I were to return to my Alma Mater in 70 years.

The intersection of Pollock and Atherton will not be a million dollar building, but rather a place I used to drive. Pollock Fields will always be the place where I attended my first Movin' On, even if the fields now house new buildings. Old Main will always be the tallest building on campus, and East Halls, no matter how much campus expands, will always be the worst location to live in regard to the classroom buildings.

Even if scientists somehow find a way to contain State College in a biosphere where it doesn't snow in April, there will always be April Fool's flurries in my mind.

The faces will be different, the clothing, many of the stores and buildings, but the places will always remain as they were in my memory. I'll be able to point at the spot where I had to attend an 8 a.m. class four days a week my first semester, even if the building is just a pile of rocks with a plaque on it.

I'll go to the spot where I was downtown when I heard Joe Paterno finally got win 324. I'll look and laugh at the place where I impatiently waited for a bus I thought would never come.

Even in my four years here, State College has seen its share of changes. I witnessed Beaver Stadium expand and new buildings pop up -- The Hintz Alumni Center on campus, Bryce Jordan Towers outside the window of my downtown apartment. I watched parking lots collapse and Hooters appear (the restaurant, of course!).

I remember freshman year learning about something called an MP3 and a program called Napster that about 20,000 people were using. I remember when away messages on AOL instant Messenger were a new phenomenon.

I remember people vandalizing Bush and Gore posters my sophomore year, replaced by American flags my junior year, replaced with peace signs my senior year.

State College is unique in how quickly change can occur. Every four or five years, new students replace the old ones, leaving new marks wherever they go. I'd like to think that in my four years I've at least left some sort of mark on the town.

I learned a lot about this quaint place smack in the center of the state through a series I did about local artwork and through interviews with alumni. I'd like to think (as delusional as it sounds) that by sharing this knowledge with readers of the Collegian I've helped to preserve some sort of history.

I learned that the Obelisk has been standing more than 100 years. I learned why the pig sculptures grace downtown State College. I even learned what that turtle globe thing on the patio of Old Main is.

The thought of leaving State College and going to a place where I can't say I interviewed the sculptor of every piece of artwork is a difficult one, but I know I'll manage.

And if I do return to Penn State in 2073, despite all of the new technology and changes (and new artwork that I can't explain), I'll smile and remember all of the times spent here with friends, and Penn State will still be, in my mind, the same place I spent some of the best four years of my life.