Everyone reading this right now knows me. Some of you know me because you read the paper, and some of you read the paper because you know me. I’ve sat in classes with some of you, maybe cracked a few jokes or answered a few questions. Most people, even those whom I consider friends, have no idea what I do for the paper.
During the past two years, I’ve worked on this paper in some way or another; first as a writer, then as a news co-editor and finally as managing editor.
A lot has happened in those last two years. Relationships started and ended, family members passed away and, most recently, close friends graduated and moved on to other things.
Throughout everything – even when I was so mad I wanted to quit – this paper and the people here were there for me. Even if they didn’t know it, the members of the staff helped me get through some tough times in my life.
And that process, probably more than anything else, helped move this from just a job for me to something more. Something I looked forward to doing. Something stable, something stationary, a place that – in spite of myself – I came to love, that I began to give my heart to.
In the process of giving, something always came back. Giving up entire nights of sleep paid off in the form of April Fool’s Day, the reader response and seeing you guys read the paper.
Five years ago (yes, five – what can I say, I played a lot of Spades freshman year), I came to VCU from Chesapeake, Virginia. I didn’t come for any real reason; it was just what I was supposed to do after I finished high school. I didn’t really like Richmond, I still don’t to be honest, but I moved all my stuff in to Johnson Hall determined to make do.
That first day moving all my stuff in with my family, taking a picture with them all in Monroe Park, I couldn’t have imagined how things would turn out. In retrospect, I’m still not sure how it all happened.
There are still a lot of things that stick out for me from the past five years. Going home with a car full of friends for the first time – and my mom’s reaction to five college students standing on her front porch at 6 in the morning. Playing Spades instead of going to class. Living in Rudd Hall. Playing pool in Larrick. Living in GRC for three years. Driving cross-country to Los Angeles with a roommate. Hanging out with The Corporation. Spending Spring Break in New York doing volunteer work.
And it was those things, above all else, that moved VCU from just another school to something more. This wasn’t high school – this wasn’t somewhere I sat in class after class just waiting to go home at the end of the day. VCU was my home; it was where I found friends, found love and ultimately found myself.
In many ways, the last five years of my life have been just as important as the first 18. More to the point, the past five taught me how to view the first 18, looking at them through the lens of who I really am.
It is those things – the memories, the friends, the lessons, the lens – that I take with me whenever I am not here. It is those things that stay with me and will continue to stay with me after I’m gone.
And I’m going to be gone soon. On May 21, I will graduate, and the bonds of scholastic responsibility will be loosed from my shoulders and I’ll be cast into the world.
It’s a day a lot of people look forward to, with good reason – it represents in a single moment the culmination of four (or five) years of work.
To me it’s the end. No more late nights at the office listening to loud music over car speakers. No more arguing over whether Ron Jeremy deserves to be on the cover. No more debate on what goes in the Editorial section. No more all-nighters listening to Norah Jones and running around the production room or finishing a 15-page paper or playing PlayStation 2.
No more of so many things and people I’m going to miss – so many I also love.
So with this, the last issue of the semester, I bid you, the reader, farewell and a good summer. If you too are graduating, then I wish you the best in the future.
In the meantime, if you see a tall guy with long, blond hair and a goatee sporting headphones and a CD player, give him a hug. He needs it, and after all, you know him.
Jonathan Robbins may be reached at robbinsjs@vcu.edu.