Nostalgic reflection of a senior

By Chris Kelly

As the upper classmen begin to unfold lawn chairs, inflate kiddy pools and ice down their beverages in homage to the famous week of freshman arrival, I realize that we need to stop and take a look at this situation. First of all, I am a senior-- when did that happen? Should I jump for joy? Maybe I'll just give an unenthusiastic fist pump or a heel-hearted skyward finger.

The freshmen across Market Street are smiling, shaking hands and giving the occasional high-five. They have good reason to be excited. In reality, the freshmen have a whole lot more to celebrate than us experienced seniors who can see reality on the horizon. It looks pretty grim. The worst part of this street divide is that one side knows that the other, full of innocent, energetic youth, have just been placed on go, the starting point of an unmatched four years of baking cakes and eating them too. The jealousy between seniors and freshmen undoubtedly must swing both ways.

This is evident in the nagging questions that returning students receive from freshmen on a daily basis throughout the year. "What's it like living off campus?" It's expensive. "How many relations did you have when you were a freshman?" What kind of relations are we talking about? And rephrase your terribly awkward question please. "Have you ever turned your living room, dining room and kitchen into a heaven, purgatory and hell themed party?" Sure, but people didn't stay very long in the purgatory dining room. Skip it.

Through these questions we see how excited freshmen become familiar with our community and, in turn, fill our roles in the future. But for now, they are just freshmen, and their bottom of the ladder social position causes many to attempt to prove how cool they are by taking upper level classes and partying like Robert Downey Jr. However, witnessing these events over the past several years has given us the opportunity to look back on ourselves when we felt the sun dried eyes of the upperclassmen across the street on move-in day.

We were all so similar, anxious, curious and of course, thin. Those late night mozzarella sticks at the Bronco sure didn't help us out in the weight column. Neither have those brown bottles full of a substance called beer that I hear people drink at college. But for each mozzarella stick they will eat, brown pop they drink and test they pass, they will inevitably shed annoying tendencies, immature actions and overall awkwardness.

In short, I envy the kids across the street struggling to lift boxes out of their cars and into Swig and Dunne, while I sit with my feet dangling into an inflatable pool, sipping slowly on a drink that Jimmy Buffet loves.

I know that by the time they drop those boxes on their dorm room floor, they will be one step closer to usurping my lawn chair. That, my friend, is plain depressing. Where will I sit?

Chris Kelly is a senior English major.