My dad sat in the front seat, riding across the Michigan State campus, looking at a place he didn't recognize anymore.
This did not look like the school he graduated from in 1953.
"Everything has changed!" he said, looking at the new buildings _ which was, for him, anything built after 1960.
My dad is 87 years old. He's an incredibly proud MSU alumnus. He is the son of an MSU graduate and he was on campus for the first time in several decades, wearing a Spartan pullover, to watch his grandson graduate from MSU.
We drove past the Breslin Center.
"I've never been in there," he said.
It was the first week of May and the campus was full of excitement. It was graduation weekend for more than 5,600 undergraduates. Everywhere you looked, there were students wearing caps and gowns, walking around with packs of parents and friends, posing for pictures in front of anything with an MSU logo. The weather was perfect.
It looked perfect.
But underneath that pride and joy, there was something dark and gut wrenching.
It's impossible to go on the MSU campus and not think about Larry Nassar, a serial pedophile and child molester.
It's impossible not to think about the hundreds of survivors. I marvel at their courage. At how they brought this to light.
As we continued to tour campus, my dad brought it up, out of the blue. Instead of being washed in nostalgia, he was full of sadness for the victims.
"One sick, sexual pervert," my dad said, shaking his head in disgust.
I nodded my head.
But days later, the more I thought about it, it was more than one sick evil man.
It took a village for Nassar to find the space and time and freedom to do his devil's work.
He could have been stopped. He should have been stopped. But he wasn't, because of a culture that still needs to be fixed, starting with the removal of the school's leadership.
At the root of the problem is something very simple: A desire to protect the MSU brand more than individuals.
And it has injured this university to the core. The school announced on Wednesday it had settled with more than 300 survivors for $500 million. Which is welcome news, the first step in the healing process.
But it's only a start.
"The Red Cedar!" my dad said, looking out of the window.
Finally, something he recognized.
