On top of a Mountain, just a stone’s throw from Heaven, there exists a place in which no Views are as Green, no Gizzards are as Fiery, no Codes are as Honored, and no Springs are as Partied. It is a space in which all four of the seasons proclaim themselves with the most reverent beauty, an oasis amidst the Deep South’s perpetual summer. It is a Domain in which a small community of big minds has gathered for well over a century to learn, to grow, to dwell, to behold…
And, of course, to drink.
It is also the place I have called home for the last four years, and as I prepare to tap the roof and retrieve my Angel one last time, there are a few things I must say to my sweet home Sewanee:
To the fall leaves that transform the mountain into manifest watercolor every October, thank you for reminding me that there are places on earth in which the strokes of God’s paintbrush remain unperturbed.
To the winter snow that blankets the Domain and gives All Saints’ Chapel the most magnificent background, thank you for the awesome Instagram pictures.
Photo courtesy of Sewanee flickr
To Sewanee men. Oh, Sewanee men. The guys who wear pastel khakis while shotgunning Natties, or kilts and capes while downing those Heathens. The gentlemen, the activists, the swing dancers, the givers. The guys who fearlessly engage our community in important discussions about controversial issues, either through forums, panels, or everyday actions. The guys who ask for consent. The guys who aren’t afraid of change…and realize when it’s time for it. The guys who are down for a midday run to Shan’s, a spontaneous discussion on the latest economic crisis, a friendly keg stand competition, and a for-the-hell-of-it drive around campus in a pickup truck with the windows down. To the men of Sewanee: thank you for embracing change with open arms, for working alongside Sewanee women to create a better campus for everyone, and for bowties. Seriously, thank you for bowties. Also, thanks for throwing all the parties.
Photo courtesy of Sewanee flickr
To Sewanee deer, thank you for always standing your ground in the middle of the damn sidewalk when I’m walking back to my dorm at night. You’ve never failed to remind me that this is your campus; I’m just living in it.
To Sewanee women. To all y’all. The girls who aren’t afraid—actually, usually prefer—to dance solo. The girls who never back down from a challenge, whether it’s the latest round of beer pong or the latest round of controversy. The girls who have actively and bravely fought to raise awareness and stop sexual assault on our campus, inspiring us all to do better and do more. The girls who have challenged gender stereotypes in their own ways. The girls who refuse to apologize for being right. The girls who are down for a game of volleyball at Lake Cheston, a granger at the Pub, a casual debate about nuclear policy in McClurg, and a just-because-we-feel-like-it trip to Nashville. To each and every woman at Sewanee: thank you for reminding me that we are all good, we are all worthy, we are all loved, and we all matter.
Photo courtesy of Sewanee flickr
To Freshman Year, thank you for teaching me to run far, far away at the mention of the word “Everclear”.
To the Domain, thank you for the countless places you provided me to explore, wander, and lose myself in. There is perhaps nothing more enchanting than meandering through Abbo’s Alley at dawn on a summer morning, nothing more humbling than standing on the edge of Green’s View at dusk and looking out over the valleys of the Cumberland Plateau, nothing more majestic than coming upon the Cross at sunset after a mile-long hike with friends on a sleepy evening.
Photo courtesy of Sewanee flickr
To the Pub Tiger, thank you for…well, nothing. I never got to ride you before they moved you to Archives. Thanks a lot.
And, to my professors. Those of you who have had me over for dinner after class, those who have played the role of both educator and therapist, those who have been understanding when life piled up and I just couldn’t turn in that paper on time. Thank you for coaxing me out of my southern-fried Dixie shell and enlightening my mind to immeasurable possibilities. And, most of all, thank you for teaching me that words are useless if they have no voice. In the words of Dr. Elizabeth Grammer, during an American Lit class last semester: “Never apologize for speaking before you even say anything. Be bold.”
Photo courtesy of Sewanee flickr
So, Sewanee, in a few weeks I’ll bid you adieu. And it. will. suck. I’ll cry for you, Sewanee. I’ll cry because I don’t want to leave the place that has transformed this loudmouth from the Deep South into a well-spoken young woman who leads instead of follows, who dreams instead of fantasizes. But I’ll leave here with a heart that is set on fire for the future, a mind full of knowledge ready to get me there, and a soul full of memories that will be the touchstone by which I regard all future relationships and endeavors.
Photo courtesy of Sewanee flickr
I promise you, Sewanee, I will never stop beholding.
Love,
Annie