This story begins with my mother.I don’t mean that in the sense that she’s my mother and gave birth to me and therefore all stories must begin with her. I’m not feeling that existential. Rather, it begins with her advice to me while I was moving in to college.
I tried to write this deadit so many times and in so many different ways, but nothing ever felt right. Maybe it’s because this goodbye just isn’t right. The abruptness at which we had to leave and the uncertainty of the future have made this goodbye incredibly difficult. So, in a manner that is only befitting of a future early childhood special education teacher, here is my goodbye to the paper and to Fordham, in the style of the children’s book Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown.
I’ve put off writing this for quite some time. Maybe it’s because the pandemic stole my
motivation to write. Maybe it’s because I can’t figure out what to say. Partially it’s because I’m
lazy. But I know that mostly it’s because it’s hard to say good-bye to one of the most positive
experiences of my undergraduate education.
Goodbye, the paper. It has certainly been a ride with you. I joined your funky little cohort of writers my first semester.It was you or The Ram and I am so thankful I dragged one of my new friends to McGinley 2nd that crisp Tuesday evening.
When I came to my first meeting for the paper, I was a freshman and clearly clueless. I saw the paper at the winter club fair and assumed it was the school paper, or essentially The Ram. I didn’t know there was a difference between the two publications or even that there were two publications!
I remember one moment specifically that I looked at myself in my dorm bathroom at 3 am and asked myself “Is this really it?” Well, no, it wasn’t, but I wouldn’t really know that until my next year, when I met a plucky group of nerds who every two weeks put together a newspaper.
I wish I could say I decided to write for the paper for something important; a higher purpose, a call to defend free speech and democracy, memes… But no, I joined the paper because I thought a guy in class was nice and he wouldn’t shut up about it, so I assumed they must be nice, too.
There’s a saying in the tech industry that if you’re not paying, you’re the product. The summer before my freshman year, my parents warned me that as a scholarship student, Fordham would likely see me as a petting zoo llama, a toy for the Bretts and Bryttneighs of our campus to see how the other half lives.
I came to the paper on accident. I think it was the second semester of my sophomore year, and the guy who had agreed to be my roommate was already an editor. For some reason he thought I should be involved, so he badgered me about it until I finally agreed to go to the print shop one production weekend.
Hey there. How is goin’, bein’ a senior and stuff? Is it weird? It is totally weird for us. We don’t really know where or how to start. Well, I guess we’ll miss you. Your ultimate creativity, generosity, humor, and intellect have made the paper what it is currently.