I’d be lying if I said that Cornell was the school I dreamed of attending. But if I told you I didn’t love it here from the minute I saw it, that would be a lie as well.
I have a vivid memory of how I felt about Cornell in my sophomore year of high school, after my campus tour. I wrote down in my diary that Cornell was one of the nicest schools I’ve seen so far — it was just too bad that it was in *sigh* Ithaca. The reason I dared turn up my nose at beautiful Ithaca was the same reason I toured Cornell as only a sophomore: I was already living here.
This is a townie’s reflection on her Cornell tenure, a wild four years that doesn't even represent a quarter of the time she has lived in Ithaca, N.Y. I have not yet steeled myself to leave behind prelims, papers and people I love so dearly, let alone the town where I learned to read and write. A place I once longed to escape from has now cemented itself as my home in every sense of the word. Maybe writing this column will help me approach the realm of acceptance, and by the last word I will feel prepared to say goodbye.
Admittedly, being a townie is not a unique experience. It is possible that the person reading this is one of the 100-odd Ithaca High School graduates who also chose to stay local. I do think that every one of us has a unique relationship to Cornell and to our hometown. For me, the decision to stay in Ithaca was made easier when my parents decided to move away. This meant my mom would not be a professor at Cornell anymore, and I’d have to travel elsewhere to visit them. As an added perk, I’d be around to see my high school friends when they came home for their breaks. Maybe I had contempt for Ithaca due to its lack of excitement, and I was skeptical of Cornell because of how often it made the local news. But by the end of high school I had softened my stance towards my ‘gorges’ (albeit understimulating) town. The excitement of starting college helped me get over any reservations I had about remaining here while all my friends moved on.
Being familiar with the city did not make freshman year any easier. Even though I stayed put geographically, my environment had changed drastically. I felt socially anxious and out of place, even after a semester of making friends and settling into routine. I learned that how quickly you adapt to college has more to do with who you are than where you are, and that I am the kind of person that grows into things. It takes a while for my anxiety to fade and be replaced with better emotions, but I connect very deeply with places (and with people) once enough time has passed. And I feel extremely lucky to have spent four extra years reinforcing my connection to such a wonderful, unique place.
I think the greatest gift of being a townie at Cornell is getting to see Ithaca through the eyes of your new friends. As a freshman I lamented what I thought I was missing: a new area to explore that would make the transition into adult life feel special. I worried that I’d never truly connect to Cornell because of the familiarity it held. In reality, I’ve fallen in love with every inch of this town a thousand times over as I’ve shared it with the people that have made college a million times better.
It is still jarring to drive down Triphammer Road from North Campus and reach the gas station where I pumped my first tank after getting my driver’s license. I go to the quasi-abandoned mall and I can mentally conjure the ghosts of storefronts past (though they were always few and far between). Of course, some relics remain: the quarter-turn candy machines we abused until they dropped free M&M’s, the Claire’s where I got my ears pierced, the Regal Cinemas where I had my first kiss. My memories get worn around the edges as new ones form: Target runs with my roommates and nights laughing at Zocalo’s over a shared margarita tower. I never knew such mundane places could hold such multitudes.
I’m disappointed (but not surprised) to say that writing this column has not made saying goodbye to my home feel any easier. I’ll be vulnerable and admit that I’m tearing up right now. My mind is racing with introspection on the major I completed and the minor I didn’t, the club meetings I went to and the ones I skipped, the nights I’ve spent laughing and crying and freaking out and growing older. I don’t want to shy away from the ugly memories. I’ve learned my lesson from my 18-year-old self, once apprehensive about staying in a place so weighed down with all the heartbreak of coming-of-age. Eventually, all feelings of confusion, boredom, embarrassment and loneliness that attach themselves to your hometown fade evenly into nostalgia, and all you see when you walk down memory lane is a person who was, and still is, experiencing life for the very first time. How lucky was I to get to prolong my childhood, to keep growing in the place that has nurtured me for so long?
After I graduate, Cornell will become just another section in the tapestry of Ithaca I display in my mind. Old memories were overwritten by new ones, past heartbreaks dulled as fresh ones replaced them and experiences that still feel current have already faded into the background. My love for this school feels so achingly concrete that I can’t believe I didn’t immediately embrace it. And to Ithaca: 20 years went by too fast. I’d like to stay and be a kid a little bit longer, but my lease is up.
Maya Blanchard is a member of the Class of 2026 in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. She is a staff writer for the Arts & Culture department and can be reached at mblanchard@cornellsun.com.
