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Volume CXXXI, Number 24 |
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Marching onward into adult life
TODD BUELL
COLUMNIST
Last week was a relatively slow news week. For the first time in months,
violence in the Middle East calmed a bit, and America seemed captivated
by the Pope's radical statement that sexual assault is a criminal act
according to both God and society. However, an important lesson for the
country and our graduating seniors blossomed to the front page last Monday.
It was the story of the resignation of Karen Hughes, one of President
Bush's most trusted political advisors. What made her decision shocking
was that she had worked for Bush since his campaign for governor of Texas
in 1994. Her stated reason for leaving was a desire to spend more time
with her teenage son and her husband, a prominent Washington lawyer. Even
though this explanation is often disingenuous in the world of politics,
many commentators embraced Hughes's reason as both genuine and indicative
of a positive consequence of September 11.
In the immediate aftermath of the attacks, many people discussed their
own introspections and reflections on life. People returned to churches
and attempted to rekindle lost romances when the reality of life's brittle
nature rose to the forefront of our collective minds. Families and pastimes
dwarfed careers and ambition.
Peggy Noonan of The Wall Street Journal wrote last Friday that September
11 made her "hungrier for life…more tenderly toward it and more
grateful…you want to really feel and experience it and smell it and
touch and thank God for it."
It is Ms. Noonan's definition of life that resonates the most with me
as this year comes to an end. I am watching a senior class that I know
is well-prepared to exchange the Hedonistic diversions of college life
for the austere realities of jobs or graduate schools. Also, I am realizing
that next year will be "my turn," and that the vast world of
uncertainty will then rest upon my shoulders.
Here is where I lean on Noonan's affirmation of the importance of the
petites bonheures of life. She explains, "Life is putting on coffee,
picking up the newspaper, putting on the radio and listening for a few
seconds to see if something huge and terrible happened last night."
Once it is determined that the state of the world is still in order, one
can resume indulging in the minor yet reassuring activities that define
our lives.
My life is defined less by repetitive activities and more by grand spaces.
Just as Noonan values her morning coffee or the bird feeder outside her
New York apartment, I yearn for the meditative stimulations from specific
physical locations. For me, it is standing on a causeway that runs between
my secluded neighborhood and the more populous downtown area.
I recall the refreshing sensation I received as a young adolescent as
I walked home from school on late spring days, popping through the woods
and seeing the ocean, tennis courts, and golf course positioned in front
of me. Suddenly, the petty juvenile concerns of middle school-popularity,
fashions, superficial romances-were halted in a Schopenhauerian "suspension
of the will" as I absorbed the playful potentials before me. I recognized
the imminent arrival of summer and the possibility of spending an entire
morning on a tennis court where, thanks to a phenomenal instructor, I
would learn about politics, sportsmanship, personal relationships, and
the value of humor in unique and meaningful ways.
Like the small moments in Noonan's life, these joyful memories define
my life. Though I certainly have ambitious aspirations for myself after
Bowdoin, I also cannot imagine a life that does not include summers in
Maine-both in reprisal of these experiences in adult form, or, if I ever
have children of my own, letting them experience these moments for themselves.
Noonan attributes much of her own longing for the everyday pleasures
and Hughes's desire to return to her family to September 11. Indeed, that
day engraved the ethereal nature of life in our collective conscience.
Though we have thankfully returned to a mostly normal life, I hope that
we never lose the recognition of mortality that we gained on that day.
Humbly understanding our diminutive stature in the universe allows us
to separate ourselves from materialistic obsessions and return to the
redeeming value of God, family, and country.
As someone who is beginning a summer of potentially life-affirming or life-altering internships, and also witnessing the last class to depart Bowdoin before I go myself, it is my hope for the class that we recognize life and do not sacrifice it. For life-the recognition and appreciation of transcendentally significant events and activities-helps sustain our spirit and establishes a loving legacy.