Rockhurst Sentinel

On May 13, the bell tolls for all the seniors.  The Rockhurst Class of ‘09 will wander the halls of academia no longer. No longer will we see Jimmy Fantroy’s impish grin, or Joe Mayers smoking in front of Sedgwick All these people will be lost, like tears in the rain. Pretty sad, right?

“They are seniors and that’s what seniors do. They leave,” states upcoming junior Luke Pretz. Fellow classmate of ‘11 Amanda Nail added to this, “It’s a little sad because my friends are leaving. But, it’s like, whatev.” 

Huh?  Ex-squeeze me? Baking powder? Where are the tearful goodbyes? The last calls at Mike’s? The marble busts of Karla Jarecke? Did our Jesuit education turn us into a bunch of well-adjusted individuals prepared for adult situations and circumstances, up to and including temporary goodbyes?

What’s the fun in that?

But is it really so sad?  It is, after all, the circle of life. As the people we’ve come to know and love, or hate (I don’t claim to speak for everyone), over the past one-to-three years hit the bricks for greener pastures, like grad schools and unemployment lines, a whole mess of freshmen, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed arrive in the fall Lo and behold, those battle-scarred, world-weary seniors were once freshmen, too. It’s how things were, how things always will be.

Not to mention the fact that with the technological advancements of cell phones, texting and Facebook, you’re never more than a few index finger movements away from your lovers and friends.  

An entire summer awaits, with its patio deck drinking and road trip taking (and Swine Flu avoiding) that will bring ever more memories with our senior amigos. Most likely, an entire summer’s worth of memories will occur the day the final Final is through. You do not want to be a bartender on that day. Or maybe you do. Rockhurst students are well known for being generous tippers, in addition to thoughtful and attractive.

“With the seniors leaving, that paves the way for my eventual takeover. Benevolent takeover, make sure you put that,” extorts Leah Schaak. “Besides, we’ll always have French class.”

So goodbye, class of ‘09.  While some people wished you could be more bookish like class of ‘08, or more acquiescent like class of ‘07, this writer thinks you’re alllll right. I know I’ll run into you again at the Foundry, or Power Hour or Murray’s Ice Cream Until then, I’m pouring one out for you on the sidewalk, friends.

Well, not the whole thing. It isn’t free, you know.

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