Since the cancellation of Phling and the move of the Sendoff concert, it has come to the attention of the Class of 2012 that Kenyon as we know it is changing beneath our feet. The hill we so eagerly crested during orientation in August 2008 is not the same hill we will dejectedly descend in a few days. New professors and administrators have arrived to fill vacated spots; suburbia is encroaching on the north and party policies have changed in the south; tree branches have been lost to the Great Blackout of ’08, last year’s Snowpocalypse and horticultural maintenance; gifts from Graham Gund have popped up like gophers; K-Cards are now more useful than drivers’ licenses. (Yes, dear first years: when we were your age, we had to bring bags of quarters to the laundry machines. At least we could open any dorm’s door without waving some plastic in front of it, though.) Plus we’re pretty sure the price of bookstore ice cream has gone up.
You know how the saying goes: the more things change… the more the seniors complain. Forthwith, a few of our favorite erstwhile things—the signs that Kenyon’s glory days will accordingly come to an end on May 19.
- Milks. — Talk about gentrification!
- Local milk. — Talk about globalization!*
- Tortellini Tuesdays. — How are we supposed to know what day of the week it is if our dinner menu doesn’t tell us? (Nope, Trayless Tuesdays/Thursdays don’t count.)
- Grab’n’Go. — Nothing like a cookie platter or freshly made turkey sandwich from this basement canteen to help get you through nine straight hours of essay-writing anywhere north of the market. A frozen pizza slice from a vending machine carousel just doesn’t cut it.
- Josh Samuels — The man, the myth, the legend. He taught us to make the implicit explicit; he showed us his teeth. Did the artist formerly known as our classmate follow Oprah to her new network?
- The 4/5/6 A.M. Club. — Where are you hiding, night owls, procrastinators, eternal denizens of Gund? Why are you not writing and sharing haiku ostensibly inspired by sunrises but really prompted by your fourth Red Bull and a steady diet of beef jerky and Skittles?
- The magazine rack in the bookstore. — How can we get our fill of Cosmo sex tips for free as we wait for our bagels to toast?
- Raging allstu wars, particularly on Webmail. — Where’d they go? Did the switch to Gmail negate our impulses to send inflammatory messages? Bryn Stole? (Actually, this one is partly false. No one misses Webmail.)
- The title of Undefeated Swimming Champs. — Kidding! We’re still really proud of you, swimmers—just also jealous because we have to look at your sleek, muscular bodies strut across the pool deck as we huff and puff to no avail on the treadmills above.
- Middle Path sans cell phones. — That dictum about not talking on your cell phone while on Middle Path so that you can cheerfully say hello to everyone you pass. Oh, what’s that? We’re the ungrateful upstarts who drove the nail into this rule’s coffin? Whoops.
*We know this has since been remedied, but the new stuff tastes like… like… change.