Letter from the editor: Living in the gray

When I ran cross country in high school, there was always a point during the last mile of the 5k where the world became a gray blur of sound. (Maybe because I have asthma.) I searched for any distraction to help me push through the pain and get closer to the finish line. One foot in front of the other. 

Spring semester of senior year can feel like that last mile of the race. Papers, internship projects and job applications all start to blend together.

In April, my roommates and I started a paper chain to count down the days until graduation. We alternate between looking forward to commencement and dreading the work that needs to get done before May 23. 

Sometimes, it feels like it would be easier to fast-forward to the next clear phase of life. But I would be missing out on so much. 

I’d miss sitting with the Textura team next to the trash on the train floor, on our way to Birmingham in January. We made jetlagged jokes and took 0.5 selfies from the floor.

I’d miss debating the best romance movies and Taylor Swift albums with Sadie, Emily and Greta in the Clarion office after our meetings. The old man at the coffee shop who remembers me, but tells me the same stories every time he walks by my table. 

I’d miss a stranger’s wedding where the trees were just beginning to bloom. I teared up listening to the couple’s vows, and laughed as they walked back down the aisle to a Bad Bunny song. 

The next day, I laughed again when the waitress in the restaurant bathroom told me how her hip surgery “downsized her butt three sizes.” 

At Fine Line in Minneapolis, I jumped up and down to Eliza Mclamb’s songs, holding hands with my sister and best friend. The next weekend, I nearly peed my pants trying to sweep popcorn off the floor with my roommate Megan. 

The messy, in-between moments make me feel alive. And that’s where this print issue lives, too. 

We’re a school newspaper at a university without a journalism major. Many things are unclear, including the Clarion’s future. What can we do but tell the stories of the teammates who cheer from the sidelines? The complicated history of our university’s enrollment and diversity? Of the Bethel students who care for the lake that we all overlook? The stories of the worn backpacks, songs, teammates and prayers that got us through? 

We hope you’ll join us in the gray.