Goodbyes and Better News

A professor of mine remarked a few weeks ago on the University student's pathological attraction to tradition. It seems that if people plan an event at U.Va, it's the "First Annual" Fill-in-the-Blank. If it happens twice, it's a tradition. If it happens three times, Jefferson said it should always be so.

I'm not sure when Swansongs started, and I'm not going to waste your time speculating whether Jefferson would approve. That happens enough around here, and I enjoy listening to the history buffs bandy back-and-forth. But I am not a history buff. I am merely someone who, last Saturday night, partook in a University Guide Service tradition that helped to seal my experience with some of the coolest people I've known at U.Va.

Hearing my fellow fourth-years hold forth on the things they've learned, the trends they've disliked, or the people they've respected in college was educational, hilarious, and touching. I'm glad that with so many strong personalities in the room, we even managed to keep the whole thing civil. For my own part, I was nervous to speak publicly for one of the few times in my four years here. Ordinarily I love being in front of a crowd, but this was different - I was trying to distill and deliver wisdom to the people who had taught me everything I knew. I was orating in front of those I regarded as modern-day Ciceros. I was trying to honor some of my best friends, but I only had twenty minutes to stand and deliver.

My hands shook as I took my hastily-scrawled outline to the podium. Oh, that's the other thing - though Swansongs are significant, very few people compose their speeches fully, or even on time. Mine had been written between 9:20 pm and 9:48 pm, for a speaking time of 10:00 pm. So much for practice making perfect. I was, effectively, winging it.

And I can't tell you from an objective standpoint how it turned out, of course. I do know that somewhere in there I made at least one or two points.

One was not to sacrifice people and relationships to your agenda or your pride. People, more so than your degree and far more so than your accolades, are the ones to endure beyond the Lawn. So let go of your pride and, oh, I don't know, streak the Lawn with your best friends.

The next point: college is very similar to streaking the Lawn. It's dark, you don't look your best, and you're dodging tables and chairs that have been set up for a picnic the following afternoon. Figuratively speaking. Even so, you're running with people who love you anyway, and that is a thrill nothing (not exams, not internships, not postgrad anxiety) can take away. And maybe, to lend the situation some much-needed dignity, you're wearing your pearls. Hypothetically speaking.

The Guides have been very gracious to me for three and a half years, and I'd like to believe that I left on a positive (albeit slightly inappropriate) note. Then again, those two adjectives are apropos of my time with the Guides, so I won't worry too much about my choice of illustration.

One more thing: I also got to share with the Guides something I will now share with you.

On Friday afternoon, one of my dearest friends Julia called me up to meet her after I finished giving my last historical tour. Now, a word about Julia before I tell you the news: She is kind, generous, wildly intelligent, hardworking, and so. much. dang. fun. She is the sort of woman I hope to be when I grow up.

In fact, she was one of the people I knew I'd miss most as a result of this teaching fellowship.

Well, she had also applied to this fellowship. She had also interviewed at Bryanston. She had initially been told no.

On Friday, miracle of miracles, she received a phone call from the school. The other girl to whom Bryanston had offered a fellowship had recently declined, and they had seen fit to reconsider Julia. Julia told me this as we sat on a sloping lawn by the Rotunda, cried, and then we both called our mothers to share the good news.

This means that Julia and I will be together next year. I cannot begin to tell you how much fun we will have. Britain, get ready. There's trouble coming. And by trouble, I mean tea parties, elaborate explanations of American culture, harmonizing to songs on the radio, and more laughter than you can shake a stick at.

As you can tell, I have a good feeling about this one. Thought you'd enjoy rejoicing with me.