I don’t miss much of anything about my freshman year of college. I didn’t click with most of my floor, I think lanyards are ridiculous, I resented lights-out time, I hated my twin bed (OK…I still hate my twin bed).
But Drake lost another student this weekend. We get e-mails every so often — too often, lately — from our president announcing the “sad news” of a death. You never expect it to be someone you know.
Amid the binge drinkers and the lanyards and the suggested bedtimes and the twin-sized beds, amid the sea of kids you’re pretty sure are full of shit, you meet a few good people. People that are worth stopping by to grab on your way to a meal — and that you know will do the same for you — so you can swing your lanyards together and eat some subpar pizza at Hubbell. People that when you look back on your freshman year, make you stop a second and say, “That wasn’t totally awful.”
Here’s to Ryan: a stand-up guy, exceptional guitar player, a good floormate and a good friend.