2005 Senior Commencement Address
By Stephanie Walker '05,
May 29, 2005

Here at St. Olaf, we have been blessed with certain utopian surroundings. Giants walk among us. Knowledge and soft serve beckon us at every turn. We have cookie-scented air. This is a place filled with singing, and the memorial tower among the maples stands as an audible symbol of the chorus of this place.

For four years we've been welcomed here -- family, administrators, teachers, and peers -- and now we come together at last to celebrate the accomplishment signified by this ceremony. It's been a passage, a transition. So, once more, welcome.

It is tempting to try to summarize our time here in broad, sweeping concepts, but what will stick with us when we leave are the small things -- the images, the people, the day-to-day. This afternoon, we are finally at a point where we can reflect on both the big questions and the meaningful details.

What are the reasons we came here?
Although the PR people would love for it to be the fiery maple explosions of fall, the saintly limestone innocence of the architecture or the never-to-be-used-in-my-life-again catchword, "community," the stories I've heard have been different.

"Man, when I was a prospie, I went to the sweetest party!" or
"Well, my last name's Johnson, so I figured I had no choice." or
"I thought this was Carleton."

Whatever the reason we came here, and even when doubts begin to creep in during the bleak early February days when we wonder if the sun or the world at large continue to exist beyond the gray Minnesotan landscape, on the first warm day of spring when the lawns pour forth Frisbee players, disc golfers, slack-liners and tanners, and color once again chirps into view, we know we did the right thing.

What are the reasons we stayed?
True, part of it may be the incredible teaching staff, the very accessible and personable administrators or cost-friendly quality of a St. Olaf education. For males, it may have something to do with the 60/40 ratio. Then again, it may just be that we are college students, entirely unable to take any initiative (as the St. Olaf dating scene well attests to). Or, as in my case, that we are in love with President Thomforde.

Things We've Lost
So here we are, dressed in black on an early summer day, left wondering what loss it is that we've gathered to mourn. We've lost our keys and keycards; we've lost our syllabi, we've lost our lunches on Mellby lawn. We've lost our discs in the tall grass of the back nine. We've also lost friends and family members and lost the feeling that the world is always a kind place to be. We've lost some innocence, some inhibitions, some indifference.

Things We've Gained
As we've all come to realize as we undertake the Herculean task of packing our entire existence into one or two vehicles, what we've accumulated is quite a lot.

We've gained over 500 lbs of books-half of these we'll never crack again, but couldn't sell back at the end of the semester. We pack into boxes several caf trays, an exorbitant number of DVDs, the dried collection of all the Friday flowers we've ever received (I have one).

We've gained the freshman 15. We've gained a liberal arts worldview. We have a new sense of what our futures hold-both good and bad. We've gained some common sense, a sense of ourselves and hopefully, a sense of humor about it all. While here, we've danced, published, volunteered, tabled, run, played and studied our way to more than a degree-to an education.

When we go (which we all must do by tomorrow, partly out of a sentimental moving on philosophy, but also out of pure fear of Pamela McDowell), what will we remember of Olaf? Northfield will once again become a dot on a map. A single turn on highway 19 erases this Hill from our sight. It is not the sight, however, but love that makes a place, and if it is love, this place will last forever. Our memories will live on in pictures, in stories and most of all, in music. We may forget many things we've recently crammed in to our heads for finals, but we'll always remember the words to Um Ya Ya (both versions). And that is how we will remember St. Olaf-with love and like a song.

In our time here, we have witnessed the construction of the Memorial Tower and heard its sobering tones on breezy days. We have seen more than one chime raised in sad celebration of a life. The names may eventually wear off the soft metal, as our names will start to become unfamiliar, and the memories of those who have been here with us and before us begins to dim, yet the sound of the chimes in perfect pitch remind us that the voices that have shaped this place, that have shaped us, echo in our memory a music that we will always recognize and hum.