The Hawk Will Never Die

 

The other day, another mom blogger's post regarding Columbus Day sparked a great memory of college days past.  I remembered vividly my sophomore year Philosophy class and the paper on democracy I wrote that spring.  We'd spent the semester reading Plato and Socrates and then ventured into some modern day philosophy readings and discussions including Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States.  We explored a lot particularly what democracy means today.  What an eye opener that book was.  But probably more important - and what I really remember - was the all nighter I pulled in April of 98 to complete that paper.  I remember sometime around 4am having a eureka moment and writing and writing.  The paper (I wish I could find it - it's on a floppy somewhere!) focused on how as individuals we need to exist in society.  I love those moments when I remember something like a paper that pushed me forward as a person - as a thinker, an intellectual, and made me question previous beliefs and my role in society.  St. Joe's was also amazing at somehow integrating all curricula regardless of one's major into that bigger theme of Men and Women With And For Others.  I remember a day senior year when I thought, hey, the bigger themes in this management class coincide with some of the themes in Western Civ and Philosophy.

I drove past the school today - it's all gutted and under construction and I feel some kinda way that my greenery is gone.  I am all for progress but it really does make me sad that the gorgeous lawn next to the Chapel is gone, having made way for a new dorm.  Sad.  I do need to get back though and really walk around and walk through the buildings again.  The buildings really make it - the smells and sounds of students.

Here are a few pics I found on the web of my alma mater.

 

Love this - it's a shot of Nick Santoleri's painting of Barbelin Hall from 1995/96 -  my time

The "Old Hawk" - when I was a student

 The "New Hawk" - the one on my car now

10 years later...service learning

I'm about to head up to Lawrenceville, NJ - home of The Center for Faith Justice - for a week of facilitating service learning. It has been a long time since I stepped outside of familiar places in terms of serving others. I can't help but think though that this opportunity presented itself at an important moment - or maybe intersection of several important moments: Having a little more free time now that Mitch is two, having the ability to carve out the time to do this since I'm working for myself, and since the mission of Piccadilly Arts is always a work in progress, having the chance to let the words I heard every day for 4 years - men and women with and for others - shape me again now and shape the vision/mission of my company.

It also comes at a time when I think I may need some help reflecting.

I'm a little disappointed at the moment. I didn't go into a recent situation expecting much, but I thought there would be some excitement from my friend and mentor when I told him what I'd been up to these past 3 months. I mean, there is a lot going on. I think I've done a damn good job at keeping things moving, keeping things interesting, and keeping things tied to a common ideal. I know I'm doing a bang up job for someone that was laid off 6-7 months ago. I know I'm smart and driven and will persevere. It just would have been nice to hear something more than "Your new, things take time" from this person.

Something more, even a suggestion...I like the good, the bad, the ugly. Not the safe well traveled road full of cliches.

Perhaps I'll find a sense of peace this week as I guide middle schoolers in their faith. I've come a long way since spring break in March 2000 when I engaged in a similar service learning experience. I'm pretty rooted and a lot wiser and calmer at 32 than I was at 22. I hope I can give some of that to a 12 year old. And I hope I'm open to hear the messages of the week and apply them to my own life.

Alternative Gear

The Salvation Army in downtown Wilmington was a favorite thrift store jaunt for years. There was also the Goodwill in Swarthmore, the Bryn Mawr Thrift and the Salvation Army at the Delaware beaches. I scored some of the coolest shit there: 1970s vintage track sneakers, my grey-purple wide wale cords that were several sizes too big for me in high school, my red cords that were also too big for me my freshman year of college, tons of 80s tees (that would well with dark denim), little snap up blouses like the brown plaid one that I wore so much it ripped and I couldn't part with it so I sewed it back together and the rainbow checkered one I wore my sophomore year of college, velvet blazers, grey cords, crew neck sweaters that hid the back pockets of my cords in high school, adorable cardigans like my tiny red one that rocked with Jocelyn's red and blue striped shirt and my navy cords. And my Docs. I wore those blue 8 hole boots everywhere from 1996-2001. Even to shovel snow.

Over the last 12 years, I slowly parted with these items. At 18, I was about 118-120 lbs. A size 4. My body also just looked different and stuff fit me differently. The cords that once hung so low now fit at my waist. The sneaks that were a comfy size 8 now didn't fit my size 9 foot. I may have even grown an inch. It's hard though to part with these fabulous duds. They conjure up tons of memories from the moment my eye caught it and I had to have it, to days of high school and college gone by. I had to have those Docs because my crush had a pair in red. Had to be as cool as him. My purple grey cords that I'm certain I wore twice a week to school my senior year saw me through the never ending hell of Physics class. I bought the red cords in Newark DE with my equally fun and funky boyfriend that summer and that fall, I wore my sewed up shirt and my ivory cardigan to my homecoming and remember being all distressed because that beau and I were on dire straights. My little red cardigan I wore to the City Line Diner with my family before it closed...the bad ass bell bottom jeans in a dark rinse with a big ol' star on the back pocket. Fabulous duds with tons of stories echoing from their threads.

When I hear the Cranberries play through my car stereo or I watch Reality Bites, I am reminded of these "alternative girl" days as I like to call them. Then I didn't think I was that weird or that hard core artsy. Now I look back and I see this great creative spirit that embraced so much - not just in the clothing but in how I felt, and how I perceived myself no matter how messy, artsy or alternative I looked. Who cared? I'm not a true hipster by any means but my inner old school college girl does come out and play when I get my hair highlighted now...when I decorate my office spaces...when I bust out my red furry boots with an otherwise business attire...or when I find the perfect Russian fur coat at a vintage shop in Philly.

In a way, it took 10 years for that girl to grow up a bit and splurge on the funky hair and nails and nicer vintage finds!

Ten Year Reflection: Part 1

Excerpt from July 13, 1997:

Best friends...what constitutes a best friend? It used to be a group of people to each lunch with, laugh with, be ourselves with. Then something happened...what was it? A selfish inconsiderate act? Immaturity? College?

Were we really ourselves? Or did we pretend to be something, want something that we never could be or have? I have watched friends change since freshman year. Even the way people were junior year was not who they were senior year and not who they are now. Actually, I don't know who anybody is right now. All I know is that I don't like very many people.

##

I wrote that at the shore the summer after my freshman year of college. Everything and everybody (including me) had changed and was continuing to change and I was lost somewhere in the middle of it all. I was drifting away from high school pals but those bonds of friendship hadn't yet matured with my college girlfriends yet so I felt alone. It was July and I had one more month before school began and I had that bittersweet feeling that comes when you realize it's time to move on, move forward, but in doing so, essentially must leave people, places, things behind you. I was excited to go back to school, to focus on my now familiar college environment and embrace that life, but I was sad at the challenge before me - to let go of the past and stuff I had hoped to fix or change or be what I wanted, but over which I had no control, so therefore, had to accept (and/or supress) and get on with my 19 year old life.

My next entry doesn't come until November 1997 but in the months leading up to it - I worked at the Gap that fall in Springfield and at the Deck the Walls in Granite Run, immersed myself in my Photography class, in visiting Linvilla (pre barn fire), listened to the Smiths, went to a few parties at B3, had my hair chopped to a shaggy pixie, still embraced alternative 90s girl style (thrift store cords, shirts, velvet blazers, vintage Puma sneaks or Docs) and tried my damndest to look like the cute Winona Ryder indie chick I wanted to portray for the cute boys (there were 2) I so adored at the time.