To all of us who will soon be alumni of the University of Virginia, let's look back fondly on our time well spent.
Remember the first time you streaked the Lawn. I tripped over a rope, got spotted on the Web cam mounted on Old Cabell and had an asthma attack on the way back.
Remember the first time you pulled an all-nighter. First year, classmates and I had to turn in a group project. At 3 a.m., on the second floor of Club Clemons, we built a fort of desks and chairs and took a nap on the floor. Our project got a B-.
Remember the first time you sat in a class with upperclassmen and felt so smart. It was an English class and I was the only first year. Then I got the 10-page syllabus and then I heard the English distinguished major speak.
Remember the first grade you got in college. I misunderstood the assignment and turned in a creative interpretation of the reading. I drew a comic. Everyone else turned in a five to seven page paper. We will never discuss that grade.
Remember the first friends you make. The ones who talk like robots and light fireworks in moving cars. Or the ones that buy a megaphone specifically for the fact that it projects the Titanic theme.
Remember the first time you dressed up for a theme party. It's not the first time I dressed up, but it's pretty much the only time I remember. The theme was the Olympics, and I was Michelle Kwan, complete with a glittery skating leotard and her beauty marks. A skate-off ensued and, in an effort to protect and defend Ms. Kwan's sterling reputation, I spun in circles until I stumbled into the host and fell. Not only did I knock her drink all over myself, I ripped off her shirt. My bad.
Remember the first time you and your friends implemented "Plan Veto." The typical crowd of first-year girls poured into the frat party. One brother with horrific body odor and an even worse haircut was winding and grinding up on that pole. One of our hallmates decided she'd make a better pole. Veto. We danced with her and sang Disco Stu's motto: "Back away, not today."
To those of us who will celebrate with friends next month, let's cherish the small moments that define friendship.
Great friends always make sure you're OK. I went to a "seven-sins" party once dressed as gluttony. It was hot and I was wearing a fat suit. I appreciated my friends asking if the sweat was real or part of the costume.
Great friends hold your hand when you need it the most. When you experience that first college heartache, that first bad grade, that first feeling of homesickness, great friends give you one hand to hold and offer a drink with the other.
Great friends laugh and cry with you, even if it's just pretend. There was once a made-for-TV movie about a teenage girl who had no friends. No matter how hard she tried, the popular girls were still mean to her. One of my friends cried. Like the great friend I am, I pretended to cry before I laughed at her. That movie was made for 9-year-olds. It had a puppet. It is not made for tears.
Great friends always have time for you. A late night trip to Little John's, an adventure for coffee, crepes, or even a surprise midnight visit when your housemates are trying to sleep and I insist on showing you my rash, which I claim is proof I am allergic to alcohol. The patience, understanding and loyalty -- that makes a great friend.
To the teachers, the coaches, the mentors and the advisors: Thank you.
Thank you for the direction, the dedication and the faith in our achievements. Thank you for the guidance when we needed it most, when we questioned our right to be at U.Va. Thank you for the continued belief in our abilities, in the faith you place in us that inspires and instills a sense of accomplishment. But most of all, thank you all for granting us a chance to explore the world on our own and for providing the support we needed when we feared the world was too big to brave on our own.
And finally, to those who remain forever studious at this wonderful institution, remember that you will always be a Hoo and that's something that binds you and me and everyone in between. WahooWa!
This is Winnie's last column. She can be reached at winnie@cavalierdaily.com.
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