Below are notes from a friend who at times knows me better than I know myself—the one who sat with me as I cried about going to Poland one year ago, who understood the complex emotions of leaving for exchange, who realized my need to take a year abroad and away from school before I even recognized it myself, and who, ultimately, convinced me to take it. I owe you so much, Lori: for acting as my constant editor-on-the-fly, for the lunchtime chats that spilled over into Latin class or afterschool into running practice, for always being patient with me as I rehashed and rehashed the pros and cons of going abroad, and for knowing what was best for me from the start. Your words (while luckily for me were highly foreshadowing in nature) were wise beyond belief and have led me down an incredible path. I never forgot them.
Here’s to looking back—
July 18, 2009 (Given at my graduation/going away party):
Beatrice,
People cross many borders in their lives... from one country to another; one era to another, etc. Somehow it already seems that you will cross more than your share in your life. This is your first big crossing. All of your classmates are on new journeys too; you’ve chosen to leap farther… to take a path less traveled. You are about to sky dive… and to land in a new place where you don’t know the landscape or the language. I know you are up for the challenge.
I thought the five words you used to describe yourself in the Post Standard were stunningly accurate: “I think of tomorrow today.” I thought of you earlier this month when I had the opportunity to meet a 98-year-old woman named Eva. She was giving advice to her great niece, Shannon, who is 18. Still agile, energetic and smart, Eva was the first woman dean of one of the colleges at Purdue. Her advice, said in various ways, boiled down to these two sentences: “Always anticipate changes.” “The secret is to always be thinking about what will be transpiring in the future.” I thought of you and of how you already know this… and have known it since at least ninth grade.
That said, I have one wish for you for this year… I think it is what you already have hinted you will do anyway:
For this one year of your life, think of today, today. Live every moment. Take time to breathe. Be patient. Bask in the sounds, the smells, the sights, the feelings. Find the good in individuals from your new hometown, and in the students from all over the world. In the stillness, find time for you.
I’m going to miss you at school… but I also look forward to enjoying and observing your progress for the rest of your life. Thank you for all of the learning you did at Skaneateles schools, and thanks, too, for the teaching.
August 21, 2010 (Given at the airport):
…Beginning today, you will see how short one year (or ten or 11 months) really is. While you counted down the days before departure this summer, now you must count the other way: each day from here on brings you one day closer to coming home. People say that that departure is the hardest of all.
I feel a bit responsible for what you are about to face... because I had some influence in your decision to apply and to go. I want you to love it… I worry that you won’t. And then I kick myself for worrying because I know you will do what you’ve always done: squeeze the most out of your experiences and opportunities.
I already miss you… but I would have missed you in Skaneateles whether you went to Poland or to Cambridge. The thing about what you are walking into now is that it is a blank slate… a total unknown. You are taking a leap that very few people in the world ever take. I know you are up for it… and that the people who meet you will be lucky. When you give the people there the best of you, and appreciate the best in them, they will be sure to love you in return.
With love and admiration,
Lori Ruhlman
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