Volume CXXXIII, Number 1 September 7, 2001 f

Acadia brings it all back home
Acadia Senese

The humidity is gone now, gone with the rumbling thunderstorm that meandered across our campus last night. It took with it perhaps one of summer's finishing touches, and left me behind, running through the rain and wishing the warmth of the evening would never have to leave. As if eight years old again, I reveled in the beauty of the storm, staring wide-eyed and grinning at a flashing sky as I waited for the next bolt to fork across the clouds. The excitement, the electricity, the atmosphere sparked my memory of the muggy days of summer, to the full "Thunder Moon" of July, with my brother and I chasing thunderstorms as they tore across Cape Cod Bay, trying to glimpse the powerful bolts that illuminated the sky, bolts that have always commanded my fascination. And as I reflected up on the last three months away from Bowdoin, I realized I found something this past summer.

I found a smothered part of my childhood, a part forgotten long ago when the stress of growing up and the expectations of becoming someone began to introduce adulthood. I found excitement, I rediscovered a best friend (my brother), and I found the things in life that fuel my spirit. My brother, three years younger than I, spent the entire summer together, doing everything and anything we could think of, and most often taking risks that we felt we never had as kids. From our new found hobby of jumping into creeks from the bridges that traverse them, to scaling rock faces, to numerous contests on just how many times each of us could skip a rock across the ocean surface, our adventures were many. And while I didn't spend the summer advancing into the real world, I spent it doing things I enjoyed. From running a basketball together to rounds of mini-golf to body surfing on the weekends, we were inseparable. I realize now, that beyond anything else this summer, spending time with together was the best thing I could have ever done.

My brother brought me up to Bowdoin this fall, staying a few nights as a prospective senior's chance to visit a college campus. My two world's collided, and the bittersweet nature of arriving back on campus struck hard. While I was obligated to attend meetings and partake in numerous icebreakers, and embarrassing myself when I had forgotten names that I should have known, I already missed the adrenaline rush of jumping into creeks far below and catching those great waves that crash onto Cape Cod's shore. And so, we went to every exciting place near Bowdoin I could think of. From Popham, to hiking up Morse Mountain (and every cliff face off the beaten path we could find on the way up), to Giant Steps, I wanted to show him everything exciting about Maine. We found ourselves one day rock hopping at Giant Steps, accompanied by a large, pounding surf fueled by a tropical depression off-shore. It was perhaps our last chance to do something thrilling, and each seizing the moment, we scrambled to the highest rock faces confronting the crashing waves. We sat, poised on the edge and feet dangling over, as wave after wave crashed down around us. It was thrilling. It was exciting. And it embodied everything our summer together was. We were soaked, we were cold, and neither of us wanted to leave. Just one more wave…..

But now, Bowdoin begs for my attention. It demands my concentration through classes, even though my hand cramps after a summer reprieve of handwriting. It calls for maturity, and expects I pay attention to the person who I'm supposed to be. And while the stress of growing up may have been erased with the welcoming of my twenties, the pressure of adulthood is ever so present. But while all that happens, I know I have rediscovered my childhood, rediscovered the thrilling moments in life that will always bring a smile to my face. And so, as fall breezes glide across campus, rustling and shaking the leaves, enticing them to turn their most vibrant colors as one last tribute to summer's best sunsets, I'll keep my eye on the sky. September's Harvest Moon was full just a few days earlier, and while it reminds people to gather the things they cultivated over the summer, I know I already have.