Exit Music (For a Column )

If there is anything that four years at Cornell have taught me, it’s how to avoid the quarter carders on Ho Plaza like a pro. Keep your head down, stuff your hands in your pockets, veer spontaneously from your path and whip out your cell phone at an opportune moment. Avoid eye contact at all costs and scowl if you have to. This has been my daily ritual for the last four years, my uncanny ability to evade endless piles of scrap paper a secret source of personal pride.

But yesterday, for whatever reason, I decided to give the quarter carders a chance. Maybe it was because I realized it would be the last Monday morning of my college career, maybe I felt bad for them or maybe I’m just growing sentimental in my old age. Whatever the reason, by the end of the day, I had 14 quarter cards, 14 smiles from their relieved disseminators and 14 new reasons to miss Cornell.

I don’t know why I’m writing this story, other than that I’d like to remember that Monday morning the way it was. The bustle of Ho Plaza against the backdrop of the clock tower, amidst the ringing of the chimes, atop a plethora of colored chalkings and among my friends and peers. This is my last column, so I feel the need to be a little sentimental — to pay a final tribute to Cornell.

Sun tradition states that a columnist must explain her moniker in her last column. Mine is the title of a Radiohead song, and I picked it for the simple reason that it sounded cool and also because I couldn’t think of anything else. “Everything in Its Right Place” — it was a thought that appealed to me; that things could be compartmentalized and tucked away, put neatly in their place. I should have known that things are seldom so easy, and that if they were, they wouldn’t be as great.

I have to thank my editors: Olivia for being so flexible and Carlos for being so sharp. Carlos, more than being a great editor, you’ve also been a wonderful friend these past four years and I will always be grateful to you for giving me the opportunity to write. Thank you to Megan, my fellow columnist and partner in crime — you made The Sun fun.

Jared, Mike and all the other SMACies — you brought culture and religion back into my life, all the way to this crazy world away from home. To the kids in the ISO: thanks for being our friends and allies in these divided times. May the bonds we’ve made last in Cornell history for years to come.

Thank you to all my professors who pushed me and motivated me and taught me so well. Professor Schwarz and Professor Hill: you brought the texts we read to life. Professor Brown: I wish I had even a fraction of your eloquence.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to my friends, although a better word for you would be family. Joanna and Susie — meeting you two freshman year was the best thing that ever happened to us. Roommates, past and present — Samira, Ashley, Theresa, Brett and Alex — you guys made coming home something to look forward to. Courtney, Steph, Kathryn and the girls across the street — from Daytona to Dinos, my memories are filled with your laughter and your fun. Alex B., Steve, Kevin, Jordan, Joe and the Pats — I can only wish I had a sense of humor nearly as sick or as glorious as yours. Moyukh — from the very beginning of our friendship, you have always had my back and I will always have yours. You are my favorite FOB. Cheryl — everyone needs close girlfriends, and I am so lucky you were one of mine. Two years was not enough. And finally, to Maria — my first friend and my best friend — to simply say that I will miss you cannot begin to describe the void I will feel without seeing your face every day, hearing your laugh and sharing our secrets. The “Ma” in our “Mackie,” you have been there beside me for every second of this crazy ride, and I know that neither college nor I would have been the same without you.

And finally, I must thank Cornell itself and mention the things that I will miss the most: I will miss sleeping in Olin Café in the middle of the afternoon; I will miss doing my Sudoku in Wines; I will miss tuna sandwiches at the Ivy Room; I will miss the smell of skunk and beer that will always remind me of frat parties and good times. I will miss the Slope Days, the Dragon Days and the paint during Holi. I will miss strolling through the Arts Quad and sunning on the slope. I will miss studying frantically in Olin the night before an Orgo prelim; I will miss the sense of elation after it. I will miss Long Islands at Dunbars on a Thursday night; I will miss the headaches on a Friday morning. I will miss the Pyramid Mall, the Commons and Collegetown. I will miss Balch, Baker, 418 and 108 — my homes away from home whose walls contained some of the happiest times of my life.

I will miss The Sun, which I have read religiously every day since coming to this place and of which it has been my great honor to be a part.

I will miss all my friends, who were so crazy and funny and wonderful and who gave me so much. You guys were what made college great.

And finally, I will miss all of you — classmates, strangers, peers. You are the best and brightest this world has to offer, swimming in this ocean of opportunity upon a grassy hill. Enjoy the time you have here — it isn’t nearly long enough.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for everything!

Hail, all hail, Cornell.

Jackie Levin is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at jl482@cornell.edu [1]. Everything In Its Right Place usually appeared alternate Fridays.