Life Underground

On Today's Menu: Reminiscing

 

Lower Glide. That was the name of the hall on which I was assigned to my freshman year at Asbury College. It's pretty plain. Gray carpet. White cinderblock walls. Wooden doors. It can get pretty cold in the winter months. It can get pretty gross when the silverfish decide to come out for the spring season. It has a funky, moldy, musty smell that isn't afraid to hit anyone who dares to open the entrance door; and it certainly isn't considered unnatural to find a furry friend or two.

It's called Lower Glide because it is one of many halls in Glide-Crawford dormitory and it is technically considered a basement; which explains its slight situation underground. The halls above look completely different. More natural light. Less cinderblock. No weird smells and each room has their very own thermostat. At first glance Lower Glide doesn't look like much. And it certainly generated no valuable impression on me when I arrived as a freshman. Even now it really isn't all that impressive. Not much has changed, mostly just the students living there. 

When I was a student, my hallmates and I took so much pride in our hall. We did things like, decorate for the holidays by building Christmas trees out of Ale8 bottles, make a few too many hall t-shirts and devote possibly a little too much time to intramural football. We made the best out of the cinderblock and carpet; and the funky moldy stink became the smell of home.

But this isn't about a hall. It's about the people that made the hall. 

I hate sounding so commonplace, but it must be said. I spent last weekend in Louisville reuniting and reminiscing with my hallmates, my fellow "Undergrounders," as we still call ourselves, even though most of us probably haven't stepped foot on that hall in years. But it wasn't really about a hall. It was about the friendships made, the bonds forged, the knowledge that our unity can't be broken. 

I spent most of the weekend watching everyone around me. It was obvious that we have and are all moving in different directions, trudging down our own paths, pursuing our individual passions. It seems like a sad thought, but in actuality it isn't. It's captivating and magnificent that we can continue forward without loosing what we once had. My favorite moment came when we all sat down in a big circle and each person shared a little on what they have been up to since our last meeting. It was a unique experience, sitting with these wonderful women, looking back at what we were, looking presently at what are, and looking forward to what we are to become.