Lauryn Gilroy and Anne Whiting: These two have been pestering me for years to write a column about them. So my last piece for the FreeP seems as good a time as any, I suppose. But what’s so special about them?
Well, on the outside they appear to be just two normal American girls. They came from New York and Minnesota, respectively, and both ended up here, at our very own Boston University. They met freshman year — two roommates picked at random, like so many of the rest of us. They lived on a floor with a cohort of other freshman — they laughed, they loved, they ate and cried in their corner double. They faced sophomore year together, too. Then they travelled to London together, but apart. They each perused Europe, finding history — both the world’s and their own — around every corner. Then they came back this year, their final year, to a different room, but the same home. Some new decorations and new stories but an aged, rooted love they shared for one another. I don’t know if they believe in it, but it sure sounds a lot like fate to me.
I’ve watched them grow over the past four years, moving from each room to the next. I’ve been there through laughter and stress, anguish and celebration. And I’ve got to say, having seen them at some of their best and certainly some of their worst, I’m pretty damned proud to be their friend. Lucky — that should really be the word I use.
It seems unfair to only mention Lauryn and Anne when there have been so many people in my life over the last four years of this sweet collegiate dream. A reality I will be pondering over for lifetimes to come.
My last column sophomore year started with this quote from Pooh Bear. “You can’t stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” It was about the importance of community in college and in life.
Many people before me have written on love stories and being courageous. I’ve written on many pieces myself. I’ve griped and groaned. I’ve laughed and you’ve probably all thought, “What the heck is this guy going on about?” But one topic that seems to never leave me, an intangible ideal that always seems to lurk behind my every word — every story, every quote, every poorly placed pun — is that notion of being lost in an unfathomable ocean of life, left here for who knows what purpose, afloat on a dinky little boat — a ship made of friends.
Whether I met you in Roochnik’s discussion, being chased by an angry ram while I was dressed up as a physicist — angry homeowner, drunk, cop, king — singing to a girl named Molly in a dimly-lit pub, in an old firehouse, the dark depths of the PERD Office chasing birds around Big Tree, on a floor that was 12 stories up and gave BU its “B,” you’ve been more than just a face or friend to me. All of you, whether you like it or not — whether you realize it or not — have made an impression on me. For better or for worse, you have made me who I am, you have given me every word I’ve used — every hilarious story, every embarrassing quote, every perfectly executed pun.
Change: No one really likes it. Even the people that fight to change bad things into good, often forgot how quickly good things can go bad. But I prefer my cup to be half full — be it with Guinness, mint tea or a mysterious soda concoction. Yet as I drink, that glass becomes a quarter full, an eighth full and then a last-sip full. And then you’re cup is simply full of nothing. But really, that’s the best part. Then you get to order more or try something new. Sip on an old favorite or something you’ve never even heard of — something you can’t even pronounce. Something you can’t even imagine.
Even if you think you’re standing still, that nothings changing — will change or has changed already — just remember this: The world, this blue spec of a rock in a sea of darkness and light, is always turning, it’s always spinning around itself, around the sun, around the universe. You’re always moving. Your ship full of friends is always sailing, even if you don’t know where.
I’m not sure when I’ll see you again, or how long we’ll have to talk about the “used-tos” and the “news,” but even if your name isn’t Luaryn or Anne, I know that we’ll cross paths. Maybe in pictures or print but I suspect much more. So I’d like to wish you all the best of luck.
And safe travels.
David Fontana is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be reached at fontad5@bu.edu.
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