The next crazy venture beneath the skies

The First Snapshot: 

I remember my first night at Duke before O-Week. Devil’s Pizzeria. Ninth St. My mom, dad and sister. I ordered a spinach and cheese slice of pizza. No real appetite, though. 

In conversation, my sister said, “Spanish 1 was terrible. You can only speak Spanish.” That was it. I broke out in hives, face and chest on fire.  As a guy from rural North Carolina, I can’t even speak English well. I speak slowly, naturally. I knew Spanish would be an extreme challenge. 

The importance of that first night at Duke was the feeling that I was about to start something unlike anything I had ever faced before. In that moment, I knew that Duke would be incredible and challenging. I was scared and excited. 

Four years later:  

As I started my senior year, my dad imparted some advice to me. He said, “As a senior, you will experience a lot of lasts: last chance to experience your favorite events and activities.” As he told me this, I thought about some of these things—my last game as a Cameron Crazie and my last class (not to mention my last LDOC).  All of these experiences have come to pass and can never be repeated, for they are unique to our time at this University.

While this seems to be a pessimistic way to look at my final year at Duke, my dad’s advice was not intended to make me feel constant depression in my senior year. Although 40 years removed, my dad also graduated from Duke, and he understood what I would face as a senior who is still absolutely in love with our Gothic Wonderland. He knows that it is going to be incredibly hard for me to leave this campus as an alumnus and not a student on May 12. But my dad didn’t want to dishearten me—he wanted me to cherish and feel every happy moment completely.

Cliché? Perhaps. But at this moment—with classes over and graduation two weeks away—this is what is true to me: The past four years have been the best of my life; and of these four years, senior year has been unrivaled; and of senior year, I expect these last few weeks to be unparalleled. You see, as I get closer to the end, everything is made more exciting by the fact that I will never do these things again. I will never gather around a burning bench to celebrate a victory over Carolina or a championship win.

 Rarity makes experiences more enjoyable and more exciting, and my dad wanted me to understand that last times make this feeling even stronger. These are special moments that will never be the same. 

As we face these lasts, it’s also very important to realize that we are going to experience many firsts. This is exciting. When I wrote my high school graduation speech, I tried to include my favorite Jack Kerouac quote, “What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?—It’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.” Right now, the line is so valuable to me because it is hard to imagine leaving the people that I have grown to love. Duke has been our home, and we became more than just friends, we became family—we live together, we rely on one another and we experience the beautiful ups and downs of college. For me, this bond formed my first year in Giles. Most of my best friends today were my neighbors and my roommate. We were so naïve, but like kids, we grew up, learned and changed together. 

Leaving our Duke families is going to be extremely sad and difficult, but I find comfort in the words of Kerouac; it is goodbye, but it is also the start of our next crazy adventure. We are experiencing a lot of lasts, but also a lot of firsts. 

Duke has provided me with great experiences: photographing President Barack Obama, working in Kolkata, India and being mentored by a Pulitzer Prize winner. But Duke has also prepared me for a lifetime of amazing experiences still to come. So, I am happy and sad, and scared and excited to call myself a Duke alumnus. 

A Final Snapshot:

I am sitting in Chapel Quad. The sun is shining with a slight breeze—picture-perfect North Carolina spring weather. Small children are running around, playing with each other and puppies. There are graduates tenting for Duke weddings. I see The Chronicle, 301 Flowers and the Chapel: bold, beautiful—everlasting.  Even with the end so close and inevitable, there is resistance in this beautiful moment; I cannot be sad that it is ending, only happy that it happened. 

Addison Corriher is a Trinity senior. He is the photography editor for Towerview Magazine and a photographer for The Chronicle. He would like to thank every member of The Chronicle for four amazing years of late nights, which were always fun and never productive.