The Tripod

The most important part of homecoming is, by definition, those who come home. The returning alums, young and old: this weekend is about them. And though the rain this year may have kept some away, the roaring crowd at the football game and the crowded, soggy masses migrating up and down Vernon Street during the day and night were testament to the magnetic attraction bringing alumni back to our campus each fall. Whatever this magic is, it could not be doused by mere torrential downpours. Many of these alumni are my good friends, from the Tripod or my fraternity or just from classes. Seeing them back here was at once comforting and startling: while it brought me back to earlier years at Trinity, it simultaneously reminded me of the fact that having them here is unusual, and made the daunting May ceremony that much more clearly placed on the horizon.

Some of these friends have jobs. Some do not. Some are in committed relationships. Some are not. But, for the most part, they have ripped off this Trinity Band-Aid and allow themselves to pop back in for this weekend alone. Trinity remains a part of their life, and the scar will take a while to fade; but they move on. This realization that a life outside these 100 acres will soon be my reality was not something that I thought would strike me this weekend. I was looking forward to seeing my friends. I was not prepared to realize that I will soon be in their shoes, returning once or twice a year to this place that has dominated my life since August of 2006. Why is it that we are so oblivious to concepts that seem so obvious after they're finally understood?

So now they're back. Back to jobs, back to various cities, back to the lives of young urban professionals. And now, with their stories and experiences fresh in my mind, it's time for me to get ready for the time when going back to what is normal will not mean going back to Trinity. While I prefer to pretend to believe that this time is far off in the future, and to spend my time enjoying senior year rather than mourning its impending doom, I must prepare for the future in order to ensure that I will have things to be proud of when I come back next fall, and will be able to let my boastful flag fly, proving that these four years have not been for nothing.

In the Feb. 20, 2007 issue of the Tripod, I wrote an article, as a freshman, in which I chronicled my reasons for choosing a liberal arts college. "I am an 18-year old college freshman," I wrote, "and I am in no place to decide what I will be doing in 10 years. [...] I am not determined to leave with a degree in some pre-destined concentration, but rather I am determined to explore my interests, and to gain a better, more realistic idea of what I want to do after college." I'm not so sure that I can check that mission off as accomplished, but I am definitely more on track than I was three years ago. This freshman mentality of not caring about what comes next is much harder to accept and agree with in the face of a job hunt and a total aversion to the idea of moving back home.

Does sucking it up and figuring it out cut against what my freshman self saw as the virtues of a liberal arts education? Does my anxiety over what I may or may not have gained through these four years negate my sense of joy and wonder at the starting gates? No.

If anything,?I will only know the virtues of this education when this process gets into high gear and?I see if I am prepared, and when I come back next year and it is confirmed that Trinity will always be my home.

Article Tools