by Christina Gregg
I’m driving back to Amherst from my internship in Boston for what has to be the 50th time this semester.
While juggling work, classes, assignments and a significant amount of debauchery has been grueling at times, there is one aspect of these last few months that I have grown to love – the reflective, nostalgic nature of the drive.
It is my last week of late-night, two-hour drives and it seems everything in my life is coming to an end. My academic career as I know it is over and the stream of “lasts” leaves a bittersweet taste in my mouth while the deafening countdown to graduation rings in my ear.
There’s not much I’d bet on in this life, but one thing is for certain – this graduating class’s flight from Amherst marks the death of a UMass that no longer exists.
It is, without a doubt, the end of an era.
Stage I: The Mass. Pike
I can hear Amherst in the distance calling me back…
“Give me your tired, your poor,
your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
and I’ll show them the best four years of their lives.”
Driving to Amherst is always exciting. I’m headed to the Pioneer Valley, where visitors flock like the swallows of Capistrano. I’m not a visitor, though. Amherst is my home, it’s our home. The beauteous western college town is ours, and it has served as a backdrop for the most transformative years of our lives. I’ve called it my playground for some three and a half years now, and I don’t tell it nearly enough how much I love it.
I have a closely kept secret that I’m going to share with you – I’m a transfer student. After my first semester of freshman year I transferred from a small, private college in Rhode Island to UMass Amherst.
I can whole-heartedly say that it was the best decision I have ever made.
It’s almost odd to reminisce about the early years of our experiences at UMass because so much of what defined them only exists in our deeply embedded memories.
The dorms. The dorms were a rare species within themselves. Pregames turned into cramming as many people and handles of Rubinoff into one room as humanly possible. Floor mates became your social group, and many of you have managed to stay intact throughout the years. You left Kennedy, Van Meter or one of the other freshman sanctuaries to roam Phillips and Fearing St. looking for a party.
Some would drop off, falling prey to Pike or one of the other frats. Some would steal cabs from one another in the horseshoe and head to a party in the boonies of South Hadley or North Amherst, returning hours later having lost their UCard and dignity somewhere along the way. Others would give up, go back to their dorm and play “Like a G6” and “All of the Lights” on repeat until heads were spinning and soon-to-be regrets were in the works.
These things happen.
If you were lucky, you had older friends from back home living off campus who welcomed young ducklings with open arms.
College St., “Apple House,” 30 Kellogg, Hyphy House — I spent some of my best nights of UMass at these houses. This was back when you could show up to a party at 11 and not get kicked out by the cops at 11:30 – or even better, you could show up after you went elsewhere and partake in late-night ridiculousness until the sun came up.
These next-level house parties are just one aspect of a UMass that “once was.” The Pioneer Valley is washing its hands of a dying breed of UMass students. A cleansing, if you will, of UMass kids that will soon cease to exist.
We experienced a different time in the history of UMass. A simpler time, when Amherst wasn’t controlled by the unholy triumvirate of UMass administration, Amherst police and Eagle Crest Management. When old Hamp had burritos and campus wasn’t a concrete jungle. When Barstool wasn’t banned from campus, Hobart Hoedown was alive and well, and Blarney didn’t make national news.
When you could get into Monkey with your school ID.
When you could pull a MacGyver and sneak onto the Mullins floor for Deadmau5 with paper, a green marker and some tape. This was when Mullins had concerts, and I mean REAL concerts – none of this Trinidad James nonsense. We saw the rise (and devastating fall) of Mass EDMC’s residency at the Mullins – Afrojack, Pretty Lights, Avicii, Tiesto, Bassnectar, Rusko, the list goes on.
WE HAD DAYGLOW.
When you stayed in on Fridays to prepare for tailgates on Saturdays. I lived for those days behind McGuirk.
Men were men, Miley was sane and Amherst was glorious.
This first stage of college is a lot like the Mass Pike. You speed down wide open, straight highways with no end in sight. You feel infinite, young, carefree and limitless. This surreal way of life in a sheltered farm town goes on forever, right?
Stage 2: Exit 8
The winding roads between Palmer and Amherst are so comforting to me now; I could practically do this drive in my sleep.
It’s on these back roads that I start to think about how much I have experienced with each of you over the past couple of years.
I heard news of Osama Bin Laden’s death with you. I voted in my first presidential election with you. I mourned a crushing Patriots loss and celebrated an inspiring Red Sox win with you. I grieved over the Boston Marathon bombings with you. I pulled all-nighters in DuBois and searched for a seat at Berk with you. I got into trouble with you and I got out of trouble with you.
I paid UMass parking tickets with you.
We all don’t have the same experiences. Some of us spent our days dancing in Totman while others were held captive to the Isenberg atrium, forever slaving over group projects and presentations. Some spent their downtime championing the intramural league while others claimed their spot at the OTT bar.
The bond created over the shared experience of a college career at UMass is colorblind to background, interest or major. Side-by-side, we rode out this wild, collegiate ride.
In between Thursday nights and Friday mornings we are asked to find ourselves. Choose a career path, get good grades, be an upstanding citizen – oh, and date. We’re definitely asked to date. Boyfriends and girlfriends. Hook-ups and crushes. Passionate love and crippling heartbreak. The one that got away and the one that won’t stay away. You take the good experiences with you and leave the bad on the Lit dance floor where they belong.
It’s on these back roads that I start to think about the middle moments in life. While college is incredible, it’s also incredibly messy. Like the back roads to Amherst, it ebbs and flows, stops and goes. You’re wrapped up in the daily grind of the drive until, finally, it ends.
Stage 3: The Valley
It seems fitting that I’m writing this sitting on the porch of the house where I first visited UMass some five years ago. A then senior in high school, I couldn’t have possibly imagined what Amherst and UMass would someday mean to me.
There’s something about Amherst in the springtime that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. You can feel the buzz of our large school all around you. It’s youth in motion, the possibility of tomorrow and the impermanence of yesterday. It’s knowing that even if just for these four years, there was an escape from the woes and worries that flatten us in the outside world.
I pull into Amherst, and it hits me that somewhere along this drive, I grew up. It might have been while speeding in the early years or navigating the potholes and curves of the middle moments, but I don’t think so. I think it’s just now, realizing the precious, fleeting nature of our college experience that I have finally stepped away from childhood and into this next chapter of life.
I have some final words for you, so listen well and good.
First off, we are not going to spontaneously combust after graduation. We’re going to say goodbye to each other and our college town for a bit, and there will be new space between friends, but life will go on. In the words of the Beatles, all these places have their moments.
Second, I want you to live life like it’s your last week at UMass. Okay, so maybe not every aspect of senior spring is healthy, but the urgency with which we celebrate each other and our experiences at the end of this remarkable journey is exhilarating. I’ve learned that time only speeds up as life goes on, so enjoy the little things, tell people you love them and take every opportunity to experience life’s beauty as best you can.
So, I guess this is it. Here’s to tall ships, here’s to small ships. Here’s to the darlings and degenerates. Here’s to the ones who did it all and the ones who didn’t do nearly enough. UMass will always be UMass, but it won’t be the same without us.
I’m saying goodbye to you, UMass. I’ve loved you. I’ll be seeing you. I guess this is the end.
Or is it?
Christina can be reached at [email protected]