Engaged in Transition

I almost didn’t notice it; but there was something off about the rear view of Sullins as I walked to the dorm from the McGlothlin Center parking lot.
I have lived in Sullins for the past three years. It has very much become my home away from home. It’s almost like I’ve grown up in the sweet little house nestled away on the cusp of campus. I’d become familiar with the smell of the lobby, the creak of the steps, which showers are better, and just how sensitive the fire alarms can be.

Just outside the house, are what the resident’s call “the hobbit hole” and, a little less affectionately dubbed “the creepy shack.” Assuming you are familiar with Tolkin, the “hobbit hole” is just what it sounds like, apart from the iconic round door. The shabby little establishment, I am quite positive, was once shiny and new, and stood proud serving its’ purpose. That age ended long ago, since now the door was almost blocked by a ever growing tree.

Last year my room window perfectly overlooked this antiquated scene. I would often sit on my bed and get lost in thought wondering what stories the building had to tell. I’d even gone to look up any history in the library, but came back to the scene empty handed. What was the hovel’s purpose in its prime? I’d become attached to it. I’d gone to look inside, but the cracks in the slats never rendered much of anything worth reporting.

That was it. The creepy shack is gone. That was the missing piece of the view from the parking lot. I hurriedly ended my walk at the construction site. It was obvious from the tracks in the mud, that some large machine had relieved the hovel from the strain of standing.

I went up to my room to retrieve my camera to record history. Having gotten my camera for Christmas, I hadn’t had a chance to practice. I started shooting from all angles all the while recording what I saw, and learning. Learning not only how to use my camera, but eagerly looking for more information about the house. The tree guarding the door was absent too. The rings of the tree indicate that students *** years ago would have been walking by the sprouting sapling.

As Editor-and-Chief of the yearbook, I’ve grappled all year with striking the balance between recording history, and making history. Should I focus on our school’s history and harken back to it? Or should I only record what happened this year. The remains of the hovel reminded me that there is a delicacy and wonder in discovering history, while also learning and recording the here and now.

The Sphinx is named so because it is an attempt to harkening back to and protecting our history while also looking forward to the future. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Remember where you come from, but don’t be afraid to move on and make some much needed changes.

– Delyn Bull

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