Goodbye To All That...
James Kukstis
Issue date: 5/4/10 Section: Opinions
Joan Didion tells us that it is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends. Our Trinity careers have an official end, of course: for my class, that end is in a couple weeks. It seems to me, though, that now (and maybe this is just me) that we are going through the motions. As Didion further points out, youth possess the certain na'veté to believe that, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, nothing like this has happened to anyone before.
In August of 2006, packed into the cab of my father's pickup truck with my father and sister, driving down I-84, Hartford came into view, looming bright in the morning sun. In the coming weeks the fears and anxieties of being a college freshman would wane; the novelty would hang around for longer. We were comfortable staying up all night to see the sun rise over the Allen Place cemetery from the courtyard between North Campus and High Rise, because at that point we had all the nights in the world.
An important other would draw me out of the library at 2 a.m. in the midst of paper-writing, simply because the first snow was upon us and the time was right for a quiet walk on the Quad. Walking around the lights highlighting Bishop Brownell, careful not to break their rays, I was incapable of embracing the mystery surrounding me, couldn't open myself up fully, couldn't match his embrace. This couldn't work. My end here was fast-approaching, his time had just begun. I hated this person for the time he was going to have; I pitied him for not knowing what he was getting himself into, jealous that I knew well the na'veté that I saw in him, and knew that it wasn't going to last.
The time when I could walk around in cutoffs, a navy blazer, and repp tie was ticking, ticking away. The time when I could wander around campus at midnight excited by two or three whiskey sours simply because it was unseasonably warm. The time when I could spend all night working in the library not because I had something due, but because a friend had something to do and I was hanging along for the ride. The times when I could stay in because it was raining, order too much Choice One and play too many rounds of Mario Party with those friends whose end was then approaching. Our comfort was in this easy excess. An excess of food, of space, of time. An excess of time.
In August of 2006, packed into the cab of my father's pickup truck with my father and sister, driving down I-84, Hartford came into view, looming bright in the morning sun. In the coming weeks the fears and anxieties of being a college freshman would wane; the novelty would hang around for longer. We were comfortable staying up all night to see the sun rise over the Allen Place cemetery from the courtyard between North Campus and High Rise, because at that point we had all the nights in the world.
An important other would draw me out of the library at 2 a.m. in the midst of paper-writing, simply because the first snow was upon us and the time was right for a quiet walk on the Quad. Walking around the lights highlighting Bishop Brownell, careful not to break their rays, I was incapable of embracing the mystery surrounding me, couldn't open myself up fully, couldn't match his embrace. This couldn't work. My end here was fast-approaching, his time had just begun. I hated this person for the time he was going to have; I pitied him for not knowing what he was getting himself into, jealous that I knew well the na'veté that I saw in him, and knew that it wasn't going to last.
The time when I could walk around in cutoffs, a navy blazer, and repp tie was ticking, ticking away. The time when I could wander around campus at midnight excited by two or three whiskey sours simply because it was unseasonably warm. The time when I could spend all night working in the library not because I had something due, but because a friend had something to do and I was hanging along for the ride. The times when I could stay in because it was raining, order too much Choice One and play too many rounds of Mario Party with those friends whose end was then approaching. Our comfort was in this easy excess. An excess of food, of space, of time. An excess of time.
Viewing Comments 1 - 3 of 3
Anonymous
posted 5/07/10 @ 12:39 AM EST
Thank you for writing this, and capturing exactly what I'm feeling as graduation draws nearer and nearer by the minute.
Susan Zinn
posted 5/27/10 @ 2:38 PM EST
What a beautiful, well thought out commentary of life @ Trinity. I totally "get it"...having a student from our family attending this wonderful institution! The author's description describes in terrific detail our young man's experience there as well. (Continued…)
Biutifelle
posted 7/04/10 @ 1:53 AM EST
excellent writing!
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