Last year was the first time I attended the Head of the Charles as a Harvard student, and I was afraid the magic would be gone.

Attending the regatta has been something I have looked forward to each fall, ever since 10th grade.

Although I had never even heard of the Head of the Charles when I arrived at Phillips Exeter Academy at the age of 15, the race had become an integral part of my fall plans by the time I graduated. And I don't even do crew.

Everyone at Exeter knows about the Head of the Charles, and newcomers quickly learn all about it. Although the Exeter-Andover football game and waterpolo interschols become big topics of conversation later on in the fall, crew dominates Exeter conversation in October.

I suppose some of the trouble was the company I kept at Exeter. Although I wouldn't be caught dead near theboathouse, one of my good friends coxed the firstboys' boat for two years, and many of my otherfriends rowed.

For Exeter crew jocks, the Head isn't just aregatta--it's their ultimate goal. Although Exeterdoesn't have varsity crew in the fall, we do getto send at least one boat, sometimes two, of eachsex to the Head every year.

So scores of athletes surrender their chance toearn fall letters, and get up at 6 a.m. formorning rows solely for the privilege ofparticipating in the Head.

Come October, the crew jocks' enthusiasmspreads across campus and everyone startsscrounging for invitations from college friends inBoston. For most Exeter students, the Head is oneof the most important sporting and social eventsof the year.

The More Things Change...

But last year, as I walked down to the Charlesto see the regatta, I reflected on how much thingshad changed.

The Head was now just one more excuse to party.And most of my Harvard friends didn't particularlycare about the regatta.

I had suddenly become the gracious donor offloor space rather than the desperate prep schoolstudent seeking to escape the wilds of Exeter,N.H.

And my view towards alcohol at the Head changedas well. Although drinking has always played animportant role in the social lives of preppies atthe Head of the Charles, there's quite adifference between the way Exeter and collegestudents approach the question of alcohol.

Because Exeter has extremely strict rulesagainst drinking, my high school memories of theHead weekend always include carefully cushioningand concealing bottles inside my alreadyoverloaded backpack. I learned to like rum andcoke because you can drink out of a soda canwithout looking suspicious.

Last year, I could finally enjoy a BloodyMary--the regatta drink of choice, according tothe Preppy Handbook--without fear of disciplinaryprobation. Somehow the alcohol didn't seem asimportant.

My view of myself has changed as well. Whendressing for the Head last year, I caught myselfreaching up in the closet for my navy blueL.L.Bean sweater with white flecks.

In high school, I wouldn't have thought twiceabout it. This time, though, the Harvard studentin me laughed at my ingrained preppy habits. I putthe sweater on anyway.

As I walked down to Memorial Drive, I passed agang of Exeter students lugging their backpacks. Iwaved hello to the few kids I recognized. Iwandered alone through the crowd for a few minutesand experienced a slight pang of regret--where wasthe exciting Head of the Charles I remembered?

Then salvation appeared in the form of anExeter friend I hadn't seen in two years. "Onehundred and thirteen," he blurted out, ignoringany formalities. "You're the 113th person I'veseen that I know. How have you been?"

We started talking, and I joined him in hisquest to run into as many friends as possible onthe the banks of the Charles. Everyone from Exeterhad come. I saw people I had completely lost touchwith, and friends I still write to regularly.

The Head had drawn us all back together again.Although the regatta no longer dominates ourconversation and our calendars, it still casts itsspell over preppies across the country and callsthem to Cambridge.

The magic has changed, but it hasn't vanished.I will always treasure the Head of the Charles. Itgives me a chance to see old friends, to relive myhigh school days. I suppose that makes me atrue-blue preppy, but I don't mind.A picnic on the banks.