Graduation, garden parties and goodbyes.

So, I have left St. Andrews for the final time.

It was actually a lot harder than I was anticipating. I almost feel like I'm mourning the loss of a friend. Obviously I mourn the loss of a group of friends that might not all be together in one place ever again. All those friends whom I love, you know who you are, and I couldn't possible say enough about how much you've meant to me over the past 4 years. I won't insult you with trying, except to say that you have made me a better person. Thank you.

I'm also aware of the loss of my friends from Spanish and Biology classes - I honestly didn't realize how highly I thought of them all until, well, leaving. But I also am mourning the loss of St. Andrews itself. East and West Sands, the castle, the cathedral - even the bells at every hour  and the annoying cobble streets. Butler and Co. Fisher and Donaldson. Costa at 7am. The 70s era library. Sallies quad. St. Mary's quad. Bibi's cafe (Harbour House!). The golf course. The list could go on and on. A big part of me knows that St. Andrews won't be the same after this generation of students leaves, so there's no point being sad about being away from the town. I guess what makes me sad is that I've had to say goodbye to this part of my life. University. Relative non-responsibility. The end of an era.

It's not like I don't have anything going for me. I really have great opportunities ahead of me, and I feel so fortunate to be backed by a family that loves me, friends by my side (even if not quite literally) and a BSc (Hons) from an internationally respected academic institution. I'm not silly enough to feel entitled to all of this, and I will continue to be grateful for everything that's happened in my life - good and bad. It was all for a reason.

Grad Ball was the perfect way to finish off a week of garden parties and academic processions, along with four years of living the St. Andrews life. I mean, oh my life.

Within 2 minutes of being there, I could tell that it would be the best ball of my St. Andrews career, and it did not disappoint. Maybe it was because there were only people there that I cared about. Some old friends even made some cameo appearances! The live bands, the ceilidh and the beautiful weather certainly helped to make it an amazing night, but I have to think that, most of all, it was knowing that it was the last time we would all be together, but also that we had every reason to celebrate.

After the ball came to an end with bagpipes and Auld Lang Syne, we snuck into the castle and watched the sun come up, along with fireworks and lanterns floating into the sky. Then we hiked down to the beach at Castle Sands and just sat in silence, knowing that we were saying goodbye to so many things. So many graduates had gathered at the beach, building bonfires and reminiscing about the last few years.

5 hours later, I walked out of my house on Hepburn Gardens with far too little sleep, and already missing the girls. But I carried so much with me as I left. The kind of stuff that I'm happy to bring with me wherever I go, that doesn't cost any extra to bring on a plane and that you don't have to find storage for when you move from place to place.

Chi-town.

It's about time for me to start talking about what's up in Chi-town.

Basically, I'm here on a fellowship, working on a congressional campaign to elect Dan Seals as the Representive for the 10th District of Illinois (or the area just north of Chicago). He's seriously awesome, and my love for him falls just below that of Obama. Sadly, though, I'm not sure how much I can write about the specific work that I'm doing in the campaign - I feel pretty badass saying that - because I signed a release in the beginning saying I wouldn't blog about it. So, while I'm still able to blog about life in general (I think), I can't say much about what I'm doing at work. (Plus, I don't want to be the one that tips off the opponent's campaign about anything really important.) But, it's not like I would want to go into great detail about that stuff anyway, given the hours-long monotony of it all. Some of it is really cool - and some of it just...isn't. That's the way it goes, I guess.

I'm living in Wilmette, which is an upper-class neighborhood that boasts its proximity to both the city of Chicago, and Lake Michigan. While I neither completely fit in with, nor understand the ridiculously wealthy lifestyle around here, I must admit that it is beautiful. Mary, the woman with whom I'm living, took us (Sammy, my housemate, and me) on a drive around the village of Wilmette and Kenilworth in the first couple of days, and showed us some beautiful houses, and the gorgeous lake about 5 minutes down the road. Frank Lloyd Wright has designed some houses in this area, and Chris Kennedy, son of Robert, lives here too.

I really am impressed by it all, and if I'm honest, a little part of me feels drawn to the path in life that would lead to the wealth and 'success' that surrounds me as I type. Who wouldn't? 

I don't think I could have experienced a much more different atmosphere to Wilmette than the area I went to with some friends over the weekend. This past Saturday, my fellow fellows and I took a trip to the west side of Chicago to help out at a food give-away in Humboldt Park. As we were riding on the bus, there was a very clear moment when we crossed the boundary from beautiful downtown, tourist-laden Chicago to the degraded, poverty-stricken neighborhoods just outside. I mean, really, the differences are stark. And shocking. And upsetting.

Even though we were an hour and a half late for the food give-away, we were still of some custodial use, and we helped sweep, mop and wipe down the cafeteria. While we were cleaning, a little girl came over and was standing by the door, just watching us. She was only seven,  her name was Jakhiya and she was beautiful. I don't really know much about her story (although I did ask the typical 7 year old questions - "what school do you go to?", "what's your teacher's name?", "is she nice?", etc.), except that she spends everyday at that YMCA. Every. Day. 

Her other friend, Toniyah, probably does, too. They go to school, and from there, go straight to the Y. They get help on their homework, play sports, do activities, etc. I guess that's a good thing in many ways. At least they're there and being taken care of, rather than somewhere where they're not being looked after. It's not like you can blame their parents (maybe you can - like I said, I don't know the story) who probably have to work double shifts and multiple jobs just to feed Jakhiya and her five siblings. 

It took all of about 30 seconds for Jakhiya to come out of her shell and walk me around the building, and ask to help with the cleaning. A little part of me thinks she just appreciated that somebody appreciated her. It's not like I even did anything. I just talked and joked and listened for a whole 30 minutes. I would hate to think that I played a part in "rescuing" her that day, I'm certainly not that conceited. But it really was rewarding just to be there to talk and joke and listen. 

In only an hour and a half of time spent in Humboldt Park, I had my eyes opened to some of the poverty that exists a mere train ride away from the exceedingly wealthy North Shore. It was a very grounding experience. I would just *love* to hear, one more time, how we're all given the same chance at birth to succeed. "It's all about education and hard work. If you want it badly enough, you'll make it happen. Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps!" 

A lot of the people in Humboldt Park probably don't even have any bootstraps, damnit. 

Ok, rant over. It just seems very surreal to me that such disparate worlds can exist in such close proximity to each other. I'm trying not to build up any super-idealistic notions about the whole situation, but I feel like, while I'm here, I have a really good opportunity to help, in a very practical way. It's kind of a relief to know that my summer doesn't need to be spent floating around one of the wealthiest zip codes in America (which, I might add, isn't wholly wrong in itself). I love what I'm doing in the campaign, really, I do. I also think that it's a worthy campaign, for an overly worthy candidate. But if I'm honest with myself, on some levels it's a selfish endeavor, and I know I can do more. Just, more.