Graduating
senior discovers solace, new motto
Brendan Fitzgibbons
Time
is like a stuffed dolphin — fun
and fluffy, but ultimately unable to
participate in a stimulating conversation.
Whether we admit it or not, we are all products of the prevailing winds of
time. With every passing day comes a bit more unwarranted chest hair, extended
cuticles and the possibility of qualifying for membership in the AARP.
I’ve never celebrated trite catch phrases such as,’“Live
every day like it’s your last.”
If I were to really live every day as if it were my last, I would get up every
morning, ditch class, acquire two robots, David Copperfield and Liza Minnelli,
and perform an all-purpose magic show. I would conclude my day by stuffing
myself with soft-serve ice cream and throwing stuff off the nearest bridge.
Life can’t work that way. Granted, there is some validity in holding
that old man time will pass you by, because one day he will.
One day, I was playing Egon from Ghostbusters, balancing my knee-high socks
and eating raw sticks of butter. Next thing I know, I’m a senior in college
who shaves, dons sport coats and eats raw sticks of butter.
When I think back on my freshman year in college, I have fond memories of engaging
in a dead sprint across campus, rhetoric paper in hand, praying I would make
it in time for class.
OK, not much has changed. But I think we all learn from the many mistakes we
make in life; that’s the thrill of the roller coaster.
Neil Young says, “You can’t be 20 on Sugar Mountain,” and
I can’t be 22, body-slamming my way through a local McDonald’s
play area ball pit.
I am not one to disparage the importance of innocence. My hero, my 8-year-old
godson Patrick, shines brighter than any Hollywood star. Sporting a single
tilted front tooth, Harry Potter-like reading glasses and a smile almost as
big as his infinite imagination, when I see Patrick, I’m reminded of
what’s great about life.
The trick is to remember. Remember what it was like to think mud was a delicacy
and that if you tie a tattered garbage bag around your neck, you can soar from
the roof of any building. Store those sentiments in your pocket.
I’m set to graduate in May. Before I even set foot on this campus, I
had numerous older folk letting me know I can never leave college because the
real world sucks. Upon hearing this, I would smile, but I really felt bad about
their disposition.
When I leave Iowa, I want to throw up a peace sign, give Patrick a substantial
hug and say thank you for the memories. I’ll keep them in my pocket.
Then I want to put on some board shorts and suntan lotion and take a headfirst
plunge into the abyss known as the real world.
There will no doubt be heartache and pain, triumphs and failures. In three
plus years of college, I’ve mourned the loss of my best friend’s
dad, a breakup with a very special lady and dealt with failure on all personal
and professional levels. Yet as I have attempted to navigate the currents of
life as best I can, the good has always managed to outweigh the bad.
How about this for a life motto? “Try your best.” I know, we usually
associate “try your best” for what our society sometimes likes
to call losers and wimps. But anyone who can stand up against the test of time
and inherent unpredictability of life will always be a winner with me.
This column originally appeared in The Daily Iowan at the University of Iowa.
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