Today’s column is going to be a little different. In a month from now, hundreds of Gusties (including me) will graduate from this institution—a thought big enough to shake the usual coherence from my writing style.

First thought: what next?  We all have plans—some more concrete than others—but there are a lot of things to think about.  We live in boxes and for the last 16 years have almost daily returned to those boxes. These boxes are sometimes nice, sometimes dreary, but always have had chairs in them, not to mention teachers and students and a board of some kind.

We’ve supposedly been learning all this time; we’ve spent our whole lives with tests, assignments, things to do every day.  What happens when it all stops?  That is a big vacuum, and I know most of us are ready to be rid of the daily school tedium, but really, won’t it be weird not having it?

Second thought: community.  People. What happens when you don’t meet new people all the time? What happens when your circle of friends goes from more than you can count to however many reside in the town you move to? Some people move home or go somewhere with already established connections—but still, you won’t see the hundreds of people you know after you leave. It could be a welcome thing for some people, but on the other hand, there goes all those untapped good people with interesting lives who you never got to know.

Even in my last semester here, I am meeting new people, and they’re some of the funniest, nicest and most understanding people I’ve met so far. Granted, I have my way of screwing up from time to time, but at least then I can learn.  Don’t they say it’s the social connections we make that drive the complexity of our brains and foster our well being? There’s hardly any better place to do that than at college.

I’m lucky. So far, I’ve made some really good decisions and been made happy by them. Being here, for one, playing music, studying abroad, making and keeping dear friends—all good choices. I’ve also made some really poor choices and not been overrun by them.  Another thing that college life helps.

I would like to take time in my last month here to doing things that I really think should be done. First on that list is being thankful. Next on that list is accepting and letting go. Third on that list is thanking again—but publicaly and often. Finally, doing makes the list, not last in any regard, but as something everyone can do more of.

The people that have changed my life the most are my teachers. Not all my teachers come from boxes, however. The best teachers have been the ones who can forgive yet show me that I’ve been wrong. It humbles me every time. We can think—I can think—that I know a lot, that Gustavus has taught me a lot about being a person, that I have things kind of figured out; it is those people who hold up the world and let you see for yourself that you’ve been wrong, but then put the world down and like you anyway that I most admire, most value and owe so much.

I’m not saying we should try to be those people. Maybe though, we could try to be the people that don’t need the world held up to them. I’m trying not to let this last month scatter the life I’ve been living before I’m finished here. I have a philosophically helpful but socially and psychologically disadvantageous habit of planning and thinking (a.k.a. worrying). It’s hard to let go.

Two last thoughts. Over four years I’ve had this computer, and I still haven’t added my last name to its dictionary, so Legeros is still an incorrectly spelled word.

Also, tell the people you love that you love them every chance you get. Love is a great thing.