The Exodus was a Welcoming

Well everything is done. Everything down to getting tassles and picking up the cap/gown is done. Assignments are in, grades are being posted, and the last issue of the Daily Nebraskan that I'll ever watch in production was just taken to the Lincoln Journal Star for printing. The DN is quiet at 10 p.m. It's never quiet at 10 p.m. -- unless it's a Thursday and everyone's at Iguana's singing "Living on a Prayer" with fists pumping wildly. There are memories that can't be defeated or repressed, and amid all the shit and drama that had to be put up with, there was this. A quiet newsroom, only shadows and things. And I loved every minute of the past four years. Four years. It's strange to say it that way.

Everyone has asked me how my conversion went. Everyone down to the people who I never spoke to and the people I thought hated me. Everyone wanted to make sure it went well, and it did. And that? It means worlds, loads, mountains of stuff to me. It's the perfect way to walk away.

My American Jewish Fiction professor sent me my semester assessment today. I got As in everything from beginning to end. But what mattered most was what he had to say about me, in general.

You have what my mother would have called a Yiddishe kupf – a Jewish head. You see the subtleties, the nuances in things. You see the humor that’s enveloped in tragedy, and the tears hidden inside the laughter.

It's funny how four years ago I was planning and plotting a graduation speech and senior solo to parade around in front of the other 525 graduating high school seniors. I did my thing and got the heck out of there, and most of my friends from high school have faded away and moved on (or rather, not moved on). And here I am, wishing I'd have given my college senior friends more time. But we're all going to amazing places -- NYC, Oregon, California, Peace Corps, etc. I can't wait to see our tired, ridged journalist hearts in 20 years. We'll have earned our footsteps.

My hips are still sore from falling a few days ago, and I think I've managed to hurt someone close to me by rumors and flying lips. My dad is doing well and Joseph has a month of school left till he becomes, officially, a high school freshman. I've sent off graduation pleas to relatives and friends, and my tassles are hanging in my car. I spent the greater portion of the evening vacuuming and cleaning my car. My nerves are wearing thin it seems, and nothing can keep me busy enough. I'm ready to roll and move.

I feel the nomad beginning to get restless.