Dr. Jordan’s Bonfire. Color Wars. Battle of the Bands. Oktoberfest. Longwood is a place of tradition; traditions passed on class after class, Red Class to Green Class and vice-versa.
But these are not traditions reinforced by some administrative automaton willed to power by tuition and tax money. This is not bread and circus to keep the mass of young minds from questioning authority. These are ceremonies by which you might come to find your current place in the world.
These ceremonies return every year because of the stories we live through them.
When the great fire rises from the middle of Iler field, we sit and listen to the origins of Oktoberfest. Perhaps remembering in the back of our minds Dr. Jordan telling tales that have terrified and thrilled our Peer Mentors, maybe even our parents. Or even the hand we find under the pillow at 3am, jilting us straight into our roommate’s bunk, only to find that is was our very own hand. Do we not toast each other at picnic tables every year at Oktoberfest? The smell of apple cider and grilled chicken saturating the back of the student union lawns littered with fall reds and yellows. The belly dancers swaying in the free speech zone grounds, followed by the latest in indie or country from our beloved Mortar Board. And we still get up early the next day for Phi Mu Alpha’s fried oreos, running between our own organization’s booths. Where are the mocktails in mason jars? Are the computer kids back with golf clubs and PCs? Which professor has volunteered to be pied this year?
How about the clash of musical talents for bragging rights and the opening spot for Bandfest? Happening only moments after the charge of white shirts, the launch of red and green splatter and the laughter and showering off at the dancing fountains.
For classes – for generations even – we have lived these ceremonies. We all have our own stories. Stories we feel obligated to share with freshmen and transfer students, who might be reluctant or cynical. Somehow, we make it a point to drag our newest roommate, or that bunch of freshmen, down the hall to these happenings. We can’t possibly let them miss out. Somewhere, in the cooling fall air, there is more than pumpkin spice and the sweet relenting smell of harvest and decay.
Below our boots, UGG and construction alike, we tread the same path, one that we willingly choose to walk together. We come back to these ceremonies again and again in our years here at Longwood so that we might be one, so we can come home even after we graduate. These story- ceremonies are important, surely not worth missing because of our jaded ideas about public college education, communal dining or whatever excuses you might have.
Listen: I hear Dr. Jordan has an encore on the 26th in Jarman at 8pm.
