Henry Abbott

I’ll admit it: I was overwhelmed during my first semester at Bowdoin College. Three thousand miles away from my home in California, I was ready to sink my teeth into Maine and did everything I could to find something to grab hold of.

I poured my efforts into my courses, particularly my first-year writing seminar on the Supreme Court. I found many friends and made new ones as the year went on. I tried a variety of activities, eventually finding my way to the Orient.

But it was actually my experience over the summer after my first year that most transformed my Bowdoin experience. Doing on-campus research, I figured, would be a fantastic opportunity to explore Maine in the summertime. And sure, I took day trips with friends to Boothbay Harbor and Popham Beach (both incredible experiences), but since I lacked a car (and a bike), I often walked the streets of Brunswick to see what meaning I could find.

I explored every block around my dorm, every bend in the Androscoggin River, walked into nearly every business downtown, looking for something that would ground me in place. In the evenings, I would walk through the empty streets with the crickets as my music, simply trying to listen to the world around me. I wanted to understand what it was telling me. There was something wonderfully calming about it.

Over time, I found my roots. I decided to volunteer with the Pejepscot History Center over the summer, becoming close with those who worked there as I worked to digitize their archives and separately created an exhibit on life in Brunswick with the help of some high school and college students.

As I pulled out the cookie jars, the painted plates and the old photographs while talking to volunteers about their stories of living in Brunswick and the shows we liked to watch, I couldn’t help but feel overjoyed that this was a place I could turn to when I wanted to experience something outside my Bowdoin bubble. This was a grounding place, a place where I could take root and flourish. Every Friday, I looked forward to catching up and learning something new about the place I now called home.

Going out into the community for the exhibit (which should be up in mid-October, by the way) was an experience in meaning-making too. For the project, I interviewed the owners of Gulf of Maine Books, locals at the Curtis Memorial Library and even talked to the former attorney general of the state. With each new connection, I felt my roots growing wider and stronger.

When I went back to campus in August, I felt stronger and more settled than ever. (It didn’t hurt that I was already moved in.) I soon set off on an Orientation Trip to Vinalhaven, leading first years into the remote island community off Rockland and eventually made my way back to campus and into a new routine.

The summer taught me that roots take time to grow—it’s a process I can’t rush. There is nothing I could do to speed up the discomfort. To feel settled, I learned, you must first feel unsettled.

Andy Robinson is a member of the Class of 2027.