if tomorrow wasn't such a long time (May 09)

Not everyone who leaves a campus wants to come back, and I understand this. Attending reunions, donating to the college, and roaming the buildings post-graduation is not appealing to some people. But, for a good number, returning to a place like this provokes such an overwhelming response, sometimes it's best to pause and take it in.

Hopefully Liv won't hold this photo against me. Last May, she came to visit our little group of friends in the cities, and had time to come down to Northfield over the weekend. As it turns out, her visit to town was the same day as our college's graduation. Unlike our own ceremony the previous May, this occasion was sunny, warm, and picturesque (ours was held indoors to avoid rain, turning the entire auditorium into a sea of sweaty parents and dripping mortarboards). I sat with Liv on the hillside, watching the Class of 2009 process down the side of the hill and to the stadium. We trailed them to a vantage point above the field, where we could see them diligently line up in rows to sit and listen to the commencement speakers. The college hymn began, and it was all we could take; Liv, wiping her eyes, took a moment. My parents, who trailed behind me, both got choked up as they realized one kid graduated the previous year and the last kid would graduate in the coming year. And, there's no better recipe for a show of public emotion than when you mix the beauty of our campus with our college hymn AND the celebratory nature of the day.

So, this week, we say goodbye to the Class of 2010. I am blue. It is infinitely worse to attend graduations when siblings are involved, as my brother is graduating. I know I'm not the only one, but there's nothing I can't stand more than when I cry in public. Unfortunately for me, there's also nothing like 1. the Olympics, including commercials (heart-wrenching!), and 2. graduations to make me blubber. It's tough stuff. I think the tougher situation is the realization that for both kids in my family, it's time to grow up, and move on into the stage of "real life." The relatively carefree days of college classes, breaks, and summer vacations have come to an end.

To maintain any sense of the past, it's a good idea to return to places of significant impact. Even though I roam this campus on a daily basis, at times I have flashbacks of moments I knew would leave a mark. I'm fascinated by the effect a simple plot of land with buildings can have on a person.

just a plot of land (July 09)

Summertime in my backyard. There is no location more peaceful than this piece of land. Forts in the corners, near the trees; spying on neighbors from the top of the shed; sprinting back and forth with dog; playing catch and batting practice while waiting for the steaks to grill. Before laptops, before high-speed internet, before freedom from parents' "no TV during the day" rule (until Nick-at-Nite came on and we were allowed a few episodes of something vintage).

Here, my mom watches as the new pup Lucy explores the yard. I can identify. As a kid, the backyard was a blank canvas, a place where my brother and I could create our own little worlds of fantasy and unaccountability. I would go outside for hours, dragging along simply my imagination, maybe a dress, and a blanket. Every element to the yard came alive, from the birdbath (used to wash clothes) to the grove of pine trees (makeshift shelter from the outdoors, naturally). My favorite times were when I could invite my best friends over to get wrapped up in my own little world, as well. I still have such vivid memories of playing, so vivid, in fact, sometimes I confuse them with real memories of childhood. I guess it is hard to explain, but hey, it happens.

Always, I've been grateful for my parents, who simply let me go and be a nut in the solace of my own fenced-in yard. I wonder what they thought when they saw me drag item after item of kitchen-ware and vintage dresses out into the yard.

These days, when I return home, my backyard has the same effect on me: a place to lay, relax, listen to the birds near the creek, and let the humid-free Western air wash over me.

breathe in, breathe out (Aug 09)

Finally, it's springsummer and we can all go to our favorite outdoor bar decks, order summer drinks, listen to the river, and watch the town come alive as everyone shakes off their collective cabin fever. After a week of dreary, cold rain, yesterday finally brought bright sun and blue skies. No better kind of day for a post-work happy hour that turned into squeezing every ounce of sun from the Tavern deck.

When we have visitors to our little town, these outdoor drinks are a necessity, as it was last August during a visit from my friend Peter, pictured above. There's a sort of serenity that comes with sharing outdoor air together. Maybe this is why summer is so addicting for everyone... and why Minnesotans love it so much. After months of toiling in negative degrees, beautiful days like these make us forget the challenge of what can seem like endless winter.

That said, I'm heading out to enjoy it.

farewell, dear friend (July 09)

from his witticisms at staff meetings and the boisterous shouts down
the hall from his office, to the wisdoms read from warrior of the
light, thoughtful advice, and engulfing bear hugs, the spirit of piotr
dabrowski is one to be reckoned with. as a colleague, he brings a
spark and dynacism to the office; as a friend, a lively, thoughtful,
and adventurous spirit to even mundane activities. when i consider the
absence we will feel next week, it's hard to believe this unique
person will ever be replaced.

in my first "real" job out of college, i had no idea i would come to
work with this variety of characters in admissions. from the first
time i met him, piotr has been a large part of this past year's
transition for me, and a big part of our fellow northfield residents'
lives. a fellow "townie," we became fast friends with the help of our
little northfield contingent, always ready for a drink with the
incomparable "baby-mama" at the Cow or some music at the Tavern. the
quieter times included half-price hot dogs at Tiny's or a reading
session at Blue Monday; the larger blowouts involved hours-long
sessions of Rock Band, wiffle ball tournaments, or pounding music at a
minneapolis club on valentine's day. nothing slows him down, and in
turn, those in his presence (us) feel a new spark to life when we
spend time with him. from the first few times we hung out, i realized
"this is someone who is always game." piotr told me early on about his
personal rule not to turn down any invitation "unless i already have
plans." this made for some epic adventures. and adventure? the word is
synonymous to piotr. he embodies it in the way i've come to embody
"caffeine." he lives it, breathes it, and is always up for it -- if
it's not fun, he makes it that way immediately with simply a radical
outburst (i.e. "I'M GETTING JACKED FOR JANUARY"). in the past year,
without hesitation, piotr traveled to multiple foreign destinations,
including a lovely five day trip to ireland with kevin. he meets new
people with the ease of flipping a switch. his natural charisma is
undeniable, yet contributes to his genuine personality. these made him
a fantastic admissions officer (and according to some, "the best in
all the land"), but more importantly, it makes him someone who is
eager to see the world. and, in this case, the world is eager to get
to know piotr.

in piotr's absence, we will miss a fantastic, hard-working, passionate
colleague; a lively presence all around the office; "piotr points" and
the prizes they entail; super-human tolerance of sweets (especially
chocolate and mini-eclairs); and a spirit of levity, appropriately
present to calm a tense situation. piotr has an innate ability to
unite and include people -- not only among the officers, but also with
support staff, student workers, and people around campus, like penny
in the cage. in my four years as a student, i never saw cage employees
be so easily charmed into passing over a free doughnut to someone.
piotr could convince them without their immediate realization.

however, along with this humorous, outgoing side to piotr is an
incredible sensitivity for others' feelings. i have never heard piotr
say anything negative about anyone -- and in an office with such a
variety of personalities, this is pretty incredible. a lot of us share
this observation: piotr inspires us to be better. i am inspired by the
way he refrains from even the most flippant of complaints or
criticisms. his honesty is always certain, but never mean-spirited.
this is probably one of the reasons why he will be a Chinese
television reality superstar...

so, we all agree: we will miss our buddy, but this is an incredibly
fitting next step for dear piotr. for someone who will see the world,
we are lucky to have had him here as long as we did. from poland to
chicago to northfield (by way of san diego, denver, pennsylvania, and
where else?) to China, it has been quite a ride. we're excited to see
where his spirit leads him.

in the spirit of the warrior of the light (or is it the michigan
tourist board?): "when we get to a place where no one knows us, we
become most ourselves."

congratulations on this next opportunity, friend. be well and prosper!

(The above was written last year for a send-off for Piotr, currently working and thriving in China. My apologies for the hastily-written/punctuated format - saying goodbye to a close friend made it hard to dot i's and cross t's at the time.)

summer visit (July 06)

I want to go camping in the Big Woods. I don't care so much if it's record heat, including the kind of humidity that soaks the day and lasts into the night. I want to cram into a tent in a row of friends, wearing only my bathing suit on top of my sleeping bag, stretching out as much as possible, and spend half an hour trying to fit everyone inside the camera frame. You know the drill: it's dark, the flash is on, and the friend with the best aim or the longest arms raises the camera above, lens facing down. It's a skill and it takes many, many re-takes to master.

Summer break is a thing of the past for some of us in our post-college careers, yet our reunions still bring this kind of retreat into memories. More than anything, I crave the conversations after night falls, when stories are told without hesitation. Camping - in the wild, away from technology and electricity - the only device left for entertainment is storytelling. Sometimes, our stories fall into categories: "tell the story of your first make-out!" or "what is your MOST embarrassing moment... in childhood AND in college?" or "when did you know you had hit ROCK BOTTOM...?" The questions sound sort of simple, and they are, but they can lead to deeper conversations without even trying (relationships, who we want to become, our confidences and hesitations about the future, etc). Of course, sometimes, our constant laughing and interjecting is nothing but that: friends enjoying each other's company, even when it's too hot to move (as it was in this case, when I think Christine finally got our winning shot).

I don't mean to make sweeping generalities about the grandeur of deep, philosophical conversations in the dark. Far be it for me to call most of our side-splitting laugh-fests "philosophical." But as I get farther from college, and life in a pod-suite with a roommate in the bunk next to me, the more I miss the constant presence of immediate community. I need quiet time as much as anyone, even though apparently I'm 30/30 on the Briggs-Meyers extroversion scale (another issue altogether), but there's a lot to be said for piling on a couch like puppies, talking over dinner in the cafeteria, passing each other on sidewalks between class. It's a theme I turn over and over constantly: the small banalities that make up what I value. And this picture, with six beaming, fresh-faced college friends, reminds me that for four years, I took it all in as much as possible.