Friday, May 31, 2013

To the 2013 Graduating Class of James Madison University:

Dear James Madison University Class of 2013,

It’s been a few weeks since graduation. The celebration is slowly ending, you’ve given yourself a break and it’s possible that the panic of the real world feels like it’s closing in like a crushing, mystical fog.  Don’t worry. I have now spent as much time in the “real world” as I did in Harrisonburg. There was a blog post last year about how the rest of your life is going to be terrible after JMU. I’m here to tell you that you’re going to be fine.  You are to be congratulated for graduating from the greatest university in the country.

I know.  If someone had said this to me four years ago, I would have scoffed. I was filled with some impending dread that the real world was hovering and I hadn’t attended an ivy league school or intensive music conservatory. At the time, our frequent boast was that JMU was ranked number six for campus food in the country. This claim to fame suddenly seemed hollow as I was completing a resume. I couldn’t picture future employers and casting directors saying, “She was so happy and well-fed! A STAR IS BORN!” Though, to be fair, had they experienced Buffalo Mash, I could have been the Aladdin to their Jasmine, leading them to a whole new world of culinary bliss. But I digress.

Eighteen year old Sarah was a genius. I was accepted to a very prestigious music conservatory. My visit was filled with speeches about competition, drive and glory. It was cold, gray and everyone appeared manic from paranoia or bravado.  A few weeks later, John Kownacki led me skipping through JMU’s campus on the kind of perfect, Shenandoah spring day they don’t make in other states (the quad…you saucy minx! Your siren call beckons still, years later!) and I fell in love with the people I saw. They were happy, confident and friendly. So. Friendly. Mr. Kingett, after having a door held open one weekend said, “This place is like Disney World with alcohol”. Very astute, Mr. Kingett.

As an adult, I can’t believe I had the foresight to invest in the right life as a high school senior. Here were two distinct paths: the cut-throat conservatory life that was supposed to guarantee a brilliant musical career and this small, unknown university filled with relentless, effervescent drive to build community. Community. Blech. That word feels so corporate and pallid, like “synergy” or “flow”. What we built at JMU was a tribe.

My whole family came to move me into Potomac Hall my freshman year. Beaming faces in brighter yellow t-shirts greeted us at every turn. Students gave up pieces of their summer vacation to help move freshmen into dorms so quickly that I can’t say with confidence I touched a single box as it moved from van to room. When we say we bleed purple and gold it may just be a reference to the deluge of color t-shirts that swarms and overwhelms like a cicada invasion. Nay, a frog invasion, for that’s what our FReshman Orientation Guides were called (this is still a bit thin, guys. We can find an R). Then, we all filed tentatively into the Convo Center for the Frog Dance life hadn’t prepared us for. Hundreds of college kids who were supposed to be cooler than me decided that without dignity, there was no shame. Justin Timberlake and Usher blared, lights raved, choreographed dance moves abounded and the place was electric. I say electric because you were either energized or terrified that you’d suddenly found yourself in that summer camp from The Addams Family Values.

My brother’s eyes were wide as saucers, shimmering with a wild energy that usually led to a night of blue and red lights or nonsexual nudity. “THIS IS PARADISE! I HAVE FOUND IT! Henceforth, I will let nothing stop me from being a part of this magical place!” He then high-fived a FROG who thought he was a freshman and Jim told him he loved him. My parents shoved Jim into the car like he was Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans, screaming, “I WILL FIND YOU (JMU)! NO MATTER HOW FAR!” I can’t say with confidence who was more devastated to be pulling away from campus: my mother leaving her first-born child and only daughter or Jim leaving JMU. No, no, wait. I’m pretty sure it was Jim. Jim was more devastated.

The FROG experience was the tip of the iceberg. If you’ll let it, JMU will grab you by the hand and pull you into a tribe that will love you unconditionally and, most importantly, specifically. It is not a place that says “We love each other because we’re people in a community and we have to”. It is not a place that says “Look to your left and right. This is your competition”. This is a tribe of people dedicated to the idea that the most important thing you can do is “be the change you want to see in the world”.

This is the most important thing I learned at JMU. You cannot change the world. That belies an arrogance, a God-complex, an ego that will ultimately lead to destruction. Your life doesn’t come to fruition with an accomplishment. Change is not a moment. Your life is not a moment. Your life is a state of being, a state of good you are building that is inextricable from your tribe.

It’s stronger than “friend” or even “family”.  It’s a web of lives connected by something deeper than school spirit. At JMU, I invested in people. I learned how to love everyone by getting specific. In a small space with little anonymity, we can either throw up walls or we can learn that every person we encounter, if we dig, has something valuable to offer. There is something in them that doesn’t just make me better, it contributes to the tribe of us that are striving to achieve a better way to exist and coexist.  The coolest kids on campus were, in a word, involved. Most campuses revere their athletes but we loved our ambassadors.

During Christmas break of my senior year, someone broke into my home and murdered Jim and my mother. A lot of people didn’t expect me to return to school immediately but I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but with my tribe.  With Jim’s tribe. In the darkest times, a real tribe bands together and knows that your pain is their pain and their strength is your strength. Sometime while my head was spinning, my people moved my apartment, contacted counselors, fixed my schedule, threw parties, organized A Cappella benefit concerts but most importantly never ever let a moment go by where I felt like I had lost everything. My tribe reminded me at every turn that the bigger we are, the stronger we stand. The deeper we love, the bigger we build. When devastation rips those we love from us, it’s only by investing and building in love that we mitigate the loss. Somewhere, amidst the sorting of emotional debris and the reassignment of values, my tribe taught me that love was my purpose. Being the change I want to see means living together honestly, loyally and fiercely as one.

After JMU, I went to a fancy-schmancy conservatory to get my masters in music. My tribe came with me. They grounded me in a big city where people can crumble from loneliness and vicious competition. Months go by and someone has a concert, a promotion, an event or even just a guest and it’s as if Ron Burgundy has yelled “NEWS TEAM! ASSEMBLE!” My fiancé is overwhelmed by it. “I’d never even heard of JMU and these people are everywhere!” We’re not big but we are fiercely present. Knowing that we have this makes it possible to do the impossible. I’m proud of the friends who are on Broadway, National Tours, Wall Street and attend Columbia and NYU. I’m equally proud of the people who came to NYC with one goal and suddenly found themselves counseling, DJing, building businesses and rising to management positions on new adventures. I’m equally proud of my tribe all over the country starting churches, going to graduate school, writing blogs and having babies.  (I just got off the phone with a friend I haven’t spoken to in years from JMU who has a masters, a marriage, a baby and a house and said, “I’d love to keep talking but I have to go tile my kitchen floor” We also talked about our friend who is a happy hipster nomad. There’s no wrong way to eat a Reese’s). 

I think about our tribe right now and I realize none of us are sinking or trapped. We won’t let each other. We turn to each other and say “You are amazing and I love you and I want to slap you for not being awesome right now!” Then, we do it. We are awesome. We applaud the awesome even when it’s not our type of awesome. I feel loved when I know YOU don’t like contemporary classical vocal music but you were willing to come to a recital at Lincoln Center put on by two Dukes because that’s what we do in this tribe. I cried when I saw my best friend and roommate in Newsies. I cried when I saw my best friend in Jersey Boys. I didn’t cry when I saw Book of Mormon because it was too funny. I wept openly to the concern of audience members around me at the first two because I was SO. HAPPY. I was up there with them as they are there with me. Their strength is my strength, my joy is their joy. It’s that simple. And it’s what life is really about.

You don’t have to go far to get a lecture on what a terrible country our generation is receiving. The idea of rehashing that sends my body into conniptions because it’s not sure whether to vomit or roll my eyes so far back into my head that I retain some permanent “Children of the Damned” look. I’m annoyed because I don’t think we’re that destitute.  I’m convinced that we’re the solution.

There’s got to be a more eloquent way to say this but the American Dream is just a stupid joke with a devastating punch line. I’ve met a lot of very “successful” people with nothing but screaming behind their eyes. That, or a terrifying blank space. Take a step back. Doesn’t being a part of 1% just sound really f*&king lonely? Why on earth did our parents beat into our brains that a career would fulfill a sense of purpose? I’m not just talking about the parents who forced us to be doctors and lawyers, I’m talking about the parents who forced us to be performers instead of artists. The generation ahead of us who told us to get something instead of build something. As if life and achievement were about grabbing a limited spot at the top. As if we’d get a promotion, a role, an opportunity and then life would plateau into some white, boring, cruise control of pleasantness.

You know better. You know that you’re not seeking to change things, you want to BE change. Dukes know that building a life is kinetic, people-centric  work. You know your life is about others. You are creators, connectors, innovators. You’re not afraid to say, “I was supposed to want this thing over here. It was supposed to make me happy. It doesn’t seem very important somehow. Let’s create a new adventure and let’s start by figuring out what’s truly valuable”. You’re not afraid because you know you’re never, ever going to be alone.

I have news for the non-Dukes. That right-winged nut job on your news feed talking about abortion mills with their AK-47 in hand? That communist, Obama-loving, left wing hippie who thinks we should let kids pick their own names? They’re a part of your tribe. They contain something beautiful. They are a change YOU need in order to build something greater than yourself. Sorry, Oprah-fans, but you are not enough. You can’t do this alone. You don’t have all the answers. Does anyone accomplish anything alone short of havoc?  This foolish pride and prejudice is a depletion of our greatest resource and it’s of far greater concern to me than any other kind of sustainability.

I have MORE news for non-Dukes. You went to a school like JMU. You were raised by people who taught you how to love fiercely and specifically. You dare to be awesome. We want you. We’re adopting you. We are not an exclusive club. We do it every day and we’re excited about it. When we find the people who love the spark, live for connection and for each other, we grab you and we don’t let you go. We know we need you to build something better and we’re fired up about it.

It’s time to love by being specific. We don’t love everyone because they are people. Try as we might to be good people, it’s not compelling enough to be a real catalyst. We love each person because we take the time to find the spark and then we throw all we have into actually igniting something.

I think about the JMU commons all the time. A tiny courtyard where an uninvited preacher could spew sermons about the sexual abominations of our generation right next to a Gay? Fine By Me table and a Women’s Rights campaign. A place where multi-cultural fairs were celebrated without riots, all sorts of religious and political groups could recruit and there was none of the visceral, hate-filled word vomit that dominates our news networks. It wasn’t NYC where everyone turns their head the other way and opinions in public make it possible to confuse you with the homeless. She could join CRU and he could join LGBT and we could all go grab a table at DHall together. And seriously, the Buffalo Mash was incredible.

Sure, it’s idealistic. Sure, we live in a giant bubble at JMU. I don’t think it’s unrealistic if we continue to approach the world with the mentality that you and I are in this together. Your strength is my strength and my pain is your pain.

You’re scared. Yes, you need a job. Yes, this is a terrible economy. Unlike your parents and the New Yorker, I’m not frightened for you. You're not going to make the change, you are going to be the change. You are going to build a life, a country and a better world because you started by building a tribe. We’re already out here and we’re excited for you to be a part of it. It's hard work and we're not there yet. We need you here. And this is why:

There are people out there who need to know they’re not alone, need to know they’re valued so that they stop destroying classrooms of children, breaking into homes and murdering families or even leaving a wake of emotional destruction just to get noticed. There are people being labeled and abandoned because no one will take the time show them what they have that sparks, what they have to contribute.

You’re a Duke. You would never relish in a fellow Duke’s demise because it doesn’t just diminish your degree, it diminishes you by extension. You come from a school with a mission statement focused on building global community one student at a time. All Together One. You’re going to go out there and let everyone know that we need them specifically to be a part of something great. Even if that something great is just a society where lives are measured by the size of their tribe and the beautiful intangibles instead of long resumes and cold assets.


You don’t know me but I already count you as mine. I can’t wait to see what we build together.


33 comments:

  1. I don't know you as you said, but I am so honored to be a fellow Duke with you! Thank you for your words, for your heart. May the LoRd bless you and keep you :)

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  2. I'm not exactly the mushy type, but this gave me the chills. I am so sorry for your loss. And I am proud to call myself a Duke, right alongside you. I was born & raised on Long Island, and this, my friend, is exactly why I came all the way to JMU, too. Your words are inspiring, and I'm so thankful I attended a university full of hopeful and forgiving people, such as yourself. Go Dukes! -Caitlin, '08

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  3. Very well-written. Thank you for sharing. I'm proud to call you a fellow Duke. Keep on keepin' on in the big city ;)

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  4. Reading this made me wish I went to JMU, then realize that I have a lot of the same things here at UVA :). Thank you so much for taking the time to write this for us. I am sorry for your loss, but glad you could make something so beautiful out of it :).

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  5. This is totally inspiring. Can you email me at nicole.radziwill@gmail.com? I am a JMU prof and want to ask you a question :)

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    1. Fellow JMU Duke here as well. I do a podcast in DC and would love to get in touch with you.

      Can you email smartpeoplepodcast@gmail.com?

      Thanks for writing this. It's amazing.

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  6. Freshman Recuits Orientation Guides

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    1. I believe it was First yeaR Orientation Guide!

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  7. Thank you for that. I'm going to be an OPA this summer and you completely summed everything I wanted to say and make the first years understand about JMU.

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    1. Thanks, Sean!! I hope you have an amazing time and I'm sure these kids have no idea how awesome life is about to be. Rock that purple and white polo!! (They still wear those, right?)

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    2. Nope, totally purple, and sweat-wicking, too! (We had them in '11 and I was SO bummed the rugby shirts were phased out!)

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    3. To be fair....rugby shirts in July/August seemed a bit cruel...

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  8. I'm straight up weeping over here. Granted, I was already teary-eyed earlier about something related to this crazy post-JMU adventure, but this totally put me over the edge in the best of ways. Thank you for so beautifully penning much of what being a Duke is about. "We’re not big but we are fiercely present." YES, we are a fiercely present tribe, indeed! Thanks for the encouragement.
    - A 2013 Alumna :)

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  9. This is absolutely fantastic. I am so proud to be a JMU Duke!!! and equally proud to know that you are out there representing the JMU tribe each and every day!! Keep writing, you are brilliant.

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  10. I am so moved bu what you shared here. As a Mom of a daughter who just finished Freshman year we both felt that special Duke Electricity as soon as we got on campus and immediately knew this was the school for her. I have truly never been on a more friendly & inviting campus and I have been to a plethora of colleges. It is most certainly worth the long drive from Long Island. JMU is something special as are you. I am so deeply sorry you had to experience such a tragic loss while so very young but am so impressed how you turned that all around and chose to embrace all that life has to offer. You are a true inspiration and breath of fresh air. Keep being the change because you are doing some job. Thank you.

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  11. I can't even begin to describe how fantastic it was to read this! I think that you have wonderfully summed up how we Dukes feel about our college experience. I graduated back in 2002 (I know, eons ago), but JMU has had the most amazing affect on who I am and how I identify myself in the world. My niece will be starting her JMU experience in the fall - I am definitely going to share your wonderful words with her. I'm so proud to call myself a Duke and so proud that you are one of us. Thanks!

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  12. Love, love, LOVE. Thanks for writing and sharing these words.

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  13. This is amazing. I'm not sure whether to cry or laugh or have a dance party in my office but I am ecstatic to give you a "virtual hug" for sharing such a real, down-to-earth, and incredible life perspective. Thank you for sharing.

    This past weekend I had the wonderful opportunity to live on campus again with alumni from around the country and across the ages during the Madison Alumni Conference. JMU is just as special as it ever was. I captured a great new perspective on what makes JMU so special and to ensure our Alma mater continues to provide that welcoming, nurturing, inspirational environment I was so privileged to be a part of, I make recurring gifts to the University through www.jmu.edu/give. I encourage anyone else who is moved by your story or has their own JMU story to do the same. :) Go Dukes!

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  14. I'm a sophomore this year and it's people like you that made me want to STAY at JMU and not transfer out to LA, like my original intentions were a year ago. It's people like you that freshmen need to talk to. ♥

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  15. Great words about a great experience. Thanks for sharing :)

    I'm thankful to be just a few hours away from Harrisonburg still, and relish my opportunities to get back on campus. The students we knew are long gone, but the tribe is the same. I remember the fun of selling JMU to high school kids during ChoralFest - now, as a high school choral director myself, I've been bringing the next wave of high schoolers in for the experience. New building, new students, new directors, and it still feels like home!

    Life has moved us in very different directions since we left - all the best to you! And who knows, I might end up in New York as well before too many years have passed...

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  16. This was an amazing read, thank you for sharing. I live in NYC myself as a fellow Duke graduate. Please feel free to email me, would love to get in touch with more Dukes here in NYC. Graduate Class of 2008.

    Email: 2william.ziegler@gmail.com

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  17. DUKES! Class of 2001, proud to have read this.

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  18. Class of 1994, theatre and communications :) I have a blog, too, with the hopes of inspiring people to creatively make the world a better place...if you have a project you would like to share or you would like to contribute a guest post, let me know (www.cadigancreative.com). This was great...

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  19. Beautiful writing, you are and have always been so talented. I know your family is proud.


    Mindy..Friend of Bridget

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  20. Thank you for this. It truly breathed life into me and helped me remember what an excellent education a received there. I am honored to call you a fellow Duke. I graduated in the class of 2000 and its been a crazy wild ride since. I owe my resolve and success through the hard times to what I learned there. I am still in close contact with my friends from JMU and expect to be for the rest of my life. It truly is about the company you keep and the people you associate with that makes all the difference. Proud to call JMU home.

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  21. Wow, I'm speechless. It's been a long time since I've read something so beautifully written, and incredibly true. It's amazing the way the universe works - I was reading a collection of articles about storytelling and narrative writing in preparation for teaching freshman writing at JMU next fall, and just before I went to bed I stumbled upon your blog post that someone had shared on facebook. My initial reason for clicking the link involved your title "What's a Gime" - I have recently been reseraching opensource software, and remembered one of the programs was titled Gime (or something similar), so I thought you were going to be talking about that ... to my very pleasant surprise I found something so much greater!

    I had to reply and let you know how much your words and your story means to me. You so accurately describe the JMU family, the people we are and the people we become once we leave Harrisonburg. As a writing specialist I'm still amazed at the way you incorporated so many different elements within one post. There was humor, sarcasm, descriptive language, fun and happy memories, and deep sadness. But most of all I am so proud to know that there are Dukes like you out there, who truly get what the Madison Experience is all about. Your story really touched me on several levels, and I am so glad you have your "tribe" to support you in the tough times you described.

    Please don't stop doing the things you love, and please don't stop writing! The world needs to read more things like this! I look forward to sharing this blog post with my students next fall, and hopefully inspiring some of them that even though they are not writing majors, they can still impact others through their words.

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  22. I want my birthday party at beach. Please recommend me the venue at beach.
    party favors for graduation
       

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  23. I am a long-term staff member at JMU and the father of three JMU graduates (must be why one of them calls me "Papa Dukes!"). My wife and I both read your essay and were moved by it. You seem to be an educated and enlightened citizen living a productive and meaningful life. Our new president wants us to be the model of the engaged university; your essay and your experience reflects what that looks like in practice. You're not a bad writer, either; keep it coming!

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  25. Every Duke should read this. This was such an inspiring and moving essay that brought me to tears. Your words ring so true, and I am proud to say that people like you and people who are "Being the change" we want to see in the world, are part of the same "tribe". Your post gives me hope that together we really can be the change and reassures me that even though I just graduated, there is still so much to look forward to outside the JMU-bubble.

    Unlike my struggle to find the words to express how much your post touched me, your essay nailed it. You perfectly described the Madison experience and the mission JMU has for its students, graduates and community. Thank you.

    Class of '13

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  26. Beautiful. I'd love to be in touch with you. Could you send me your email address to BetheChange@jmu.edu?

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