"Here at Last ...

... on the shores of the sea, comes the end of our fellowship. And I will not say: do not weep, for not all tears are evil."

Last night, I was walking through my old high school with one of my best friends from home. She and I marveled at the changes that had already taken place since we had left 4 and 5 years ago ... walls repainted, lockers rearranged, remodeling that had been done, even different smells. Pictures hung on the walls of athletes, musicians, and scholars whom we didn't even know. Some of the teachers who had influenced us so strongly were still around, but many had also retired or moved on to other work.

Most telling was the change that was evident in our old hangout, the band room. Neither of our band directors were still there. The only records of our time in that room, our glorious and wonderful and infinitely beloved time, were the dusty trophies that lined the walls with the years 2002 and 2003 on them. No one had cleaned them for ages, that we could see ... but we remembered the sweat, energy, and passion that had gone into earning them. Those trophies might just be gray, forgotten relics of plastic, but to us (or at least, to me) they represented the most expensive and worthwhile commodity in the world: friendship.

Walking through my high school a week after my college graduation caused a fairly significant emotional reaction in me. It hasn't really sunk in yet that those four years are over, I think because I'll be returning to Lehigh again in the fall. In the back of my mind, there's that comfort in knowing that the location and people will be almost entirely the same as they've been. Some very important and dear people will be leaving ... going to work, going to other schools, leaving the country ... but many others will also be staying. There will still be parties and nights at the bar, walks in the moonlight and talks until dawn, long evenings of sadness and joy and poor decisions.

I guess that, when I really think about it, the thing I'm clinging to most desperately at this point is not the people, or the place, or anything like that ... but to the past. Just like in high school, Lehigh is a place I've come to own and feel and live within. It has given me almost everything I've had in the last four years, and has affected every single thing I've done in that time. It's become safe, understood, reassuring. It's a place that has given me pride, accomplishment, and a sense of who I am. And yet, I know that returning this year will not be the same, and that in May 2009, it will all be over for good. Only one year from now. The only thing I can guarantee is that I'll be armed with 3 degrees, my personality, my confidence, and the friends I've made since I arrived. With those in my pocket I'll be turned loose on the world, just like everyone else, to make of it what I will.

I know very little for sure at this point. This month has become, as my brother put it, "a very weird sort of stasis." It's like my undergraduate education ended and left me at a train station with no ticket, money, or destination. Sure, things are lined up for the next 12 months of my life- an internship, graduate work, research, teaching, and music. The problem is that I don't think I want the life that I chose for myself four years ago. Having seen the working world, I could never give 40 hours a week to a cubicle, solving engineering design problems on a computer all day. I could never commute half an hour each way, take lunch with the same people, slowly build a suburban house into a truly American suburban castle. There's got to be more to life than that ... there's got to be more to living that that.

As I said, I don't know much of anything at this point. My father's illness reminded me that I need my family. The end of my last relationship reminded me that I need love. Saying goodbye to Lehigh reminds me now that I need friends, laughter, support, and a sense of belonging. So the question that everyone faces is ... where do we find those things? Where are they in our future? Where can we achieve them ... and also achieve work that fulfills us?

Before we left the high school last night, we found a display case full of the biggest trophies our high school band had ever earned. The tallest trophy in the case still belonged to the CHS band from my senior year, when we had won the state championships for the first time. Just seeing the trophy brought back memories from the whole season, and the night we won. Even four and a half years later, having come through so much, that memory still moved me so deeply ...

What I know for certain is that, in my life, I want to find a woman I know how to love. I want a family. I want to be able to provide for them. I want to see the world. I want to go on adventures without knowing how they're going to end. I want to devote some portion of my life to music. And, towards the end, I want to be the old man that people come to for advice, for laughter, and for stories.

It's a lot to ask, especially with no plan ... but I guess if I've learned one thing, in my four years as a Lehigh engineer, it's that you can usually get by with having absolutely no plan at all.

Happy Graduation, everyone. Good luck.