2008 Woodie Awards
"Yougottawanna"
Katelyn Henry
Issue date: 11/13/04 Section: Letter From the Editor
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A week ago today I sat in my senior seminar course listening to two Assumption graduates who have gone into the real world, established careers, and actually survived after graduation.
As they spoke of good interview skills, paying bills, and spending eight hour days in front of a computer, I slid lower into my chair with sweaty palms, a racing heart, and pessimistic thoughts racing through my head.
There's no hope for me, I thought to myself. I don't know what I want to do in the future and I'm speeding quickly down the road to nowhere without a map.
Professor Knoles must have read my mind because she came over at the end of class, encouraging me to calm down about life after Assumption and reminding me that soon enough-probably during second semester-I'll have an "epiphany" about where my life should go.
Sounds good to me, even divine, but where does that leave me in the meantime?
That night, I literally was driving down the road to nowhere, or what seemed like it: the dark Mass. Pike stretched for endless miles in front of me. Driving home for a night away from school, the thoughts-or better yet, stresses-of the day came with me for the trip.
Approaching the bright lights of Boston, a green billboard served as a distraction. With Manny Ramirez pointing at me, large red letters, in traditional Red Sox font, read a huge "Thank You."
During the playoffs and weeks leading up to the World Series, I remember seeing the same billboard that practically sat on top of Fenway Park, only it read something different: "Keep the Faith."
And we did.
When the Sox were down three games to none, when Schilling's sock was stained with blood, when tied games ran into the middle of the night, and when everyone thought the team was nothing but a bunch of idiots, practically all of Assumption, New England, and maybe even the world, still had faith that somehow the Red Sox could change what had-for 86 years-seemed to be against our fate.
As they spoke of good interview skills, paying bills, and spending eight hour days in front of a computer, I slid lower into my chair with sweaty palms, a racing heart, and pessimistic thoughts racing through my head.
There's no hope for me, I thought to myself. I don't know what I want to do in the future and I'm speeding quickly down the road to nowhere without a map.
Professor Knoles must have read my mind because she came over at the end of class, encouraging me to calm down about life after Assumption and reminding me that soon enough-probably during second semester-I'll have an "epiphany" about where my life should go.
Sounds good to me, even divine, but where does that leave me in the meantime?
That night, I literally was driving down the road to nowhere, or what seemed like it: the dark Mass. Pike stretched for endless miles in front of me. Driving home for a night away from school, the thoughts-or better yet, stresses-of the day came with me for the trip.
Approaching the bright lights of Boston, a green billboard served as a distraction. With Manny Ramirez pointing at me, large red letters, in traditional Red Sox font, read a huge "Thank You."
During the playoffs and weeks leading up to the World Series, I remember seeing the same billboard that practically sat on top of Fenway Park, only it read something different: "Keep the Faith."
And we did.
When the Sox were down three games to none, when Schilling's sock was stained with blood, when tied games ran into the middle of the night, and when everyone thought the team was nothing but a bunch of idiots, practically all of Assumption, New England, and maybe even the world, still had faith that somehow the Red Sox could change what had-for 86 years-seemed to be against our fate.