Taking a Page Out of History
Today was about as weird as it comes. I went into it convinced the day would suck and I was right but for the wrong reason. I expected to be fielding calls and e-mails all day after a major work project failed to come out on time. Instead, I was fielding calls and e-mails all day after a senseless rampage that now marks a nadir in U.S. history.
It was nice to reconnect with high school and college friends and even to be approached by strangers who noticed my Virginia Tech Alumni license plate holder. I helped my sister in Blacksburg craft a thank you note to go with the hand-delivered baked goods for the local police, who are in for some very dark days and tortured nights. We weighed how she could help the mourners. I admit I only watched a small fraction of the Boston Marathon and had trouble relating to running blogs when there was so much chaos and carnage being reported. I’m sure I’ll be fine in time for the next round of race recaps.
The last time I was on campus was on a muggy Monday in August 2005, when I spent an afternoon strolling through the various quads and keeping an eye out for campus police. The meter in front of my rental car had long expired and I was out of quarters. A thunderstorm quickly moved in while I angrily shouted into my cell phone, trying to prevent a colleague’s firing while dashing toward that Dodge Neon along the Drillfield. The situation – my vitriol, the pending violent weather – seemed so out of place with my memories of carefree, sun-soaked days calibrated by classes and the Collegiate Times.
Of course, they weren’t all like that. That’s just what I chose to remember.
Then, and now.
It was nice to reconnect with high school and college friends and even to be approached by strangers who noticed my Virginia Tech Alumni license plate holder. I helped my sister in Blacksburg craft a thank you note to go with the hand-delivered baked goods for the local police, who are in for some very dark days and tortured nights. We weighed how she could help the mourners. I admit I only watched a small fraction of the Boston Marathon and had trouble relating to running blogs when there was so much chaos and carnage being reported. I’m sure I’ll be fine in time for the next round of race recaps.
The last time I was on campus was on a muggy Monday in August 2005, when I spent an afternoon strolling through the various quads and keeping an eye out for campus police. The meter in front of my rental car had long expired and I was out of quarters. A thunderstorm quickly moved in while I angrily shouted into my cell phone, trying to prevent a colleague’s firing while dashing toward that Dodge Neon along the Drillfield. The situation – my vitriol, the pending violent weather – seemed so out of place with my memories of carefree, sun-soaked days calibrated by classes and the Collegiate Times.
Of course, they weren’t all like that. That’s just what I chose to remember.
Then, and now.
