2008 Woodie Awards
Buying into the notion of resolutions
Sean Windle
Issue date: 1/16/08 Section: College News
I have never embraced the idea of making substantial resolutions for the sole purpose of celebrating New Years Eve, and the forthcoming of a new calendar year. Perhaps, in a vain attempt to distinguish myself in my own ivory tower of complacency, I strive to believe that every morning I wake up I have a choice. I can choose to work towards my goals and dreams or I can choose to ignore them, but choice is the bottom line. Why wait an entire year to resolute to change when every rising of the sun provides a perfect opportunity?
I think I know the answer now.
Working two jobs, attending school full-time and playing in a band carries the drawback of not being able to distinguish some of the details of the previous year. I remember studying, writing, reading and late night coffee trips to cram the night before a test. I remember going out drinking with friends even though I had to go to work at 7am the next day, and I remember having to call in sick a few times, but if you were to ask me what the significance of that was I would have stared at you blankly, or quoted some cheesy Tom Petty saying about making the most of college life.
I'll tell you the details of what I do remember, and what has stuck with me from 2007.
Last March I remember my dad telling me that my uncle had a massive stroke, and was in intensive care on a ventilator. I recall a feeling of disillusionment because he was only forty years old, and even as the news of his condition worsened I just couldn't believe that he would actually die. He did pass away though; a few minutes after the doctors removed his ventilator, surrounded by family. It was either that or condemn him to a life of utter hell, unable to breath, eat, move, think or even be conscious.
There is a saying that death is contagious, and I know I've heard stories of a person's death followed by the death of their spouse or another loved one. Unfortunately it seemed to be the case this year, when in November I learned that my grandfather had advanced prostate cancer which had metastasized to his bones. When isolated to the prostate this particular form of cancer is very curable, but according to the doctors he "lit up like a Christmas tree," meaning the cancer was everywhere; bones, arms, legs, back and possibly even his brain. When I heard this I thought of the conversation I had with my grandfather back in October; he had complained of arm pain.
I think I know the answer now.
Working two jobs, attending school full-time and playing in a band carries the drawback of not being able to distinguish some of the details of the previous year. I remember studying, writing, reading and late night coffee trips to cram the night before a test. I remember going out drinking with friends even though I had to go to work at 7am the next day, and I remember having to call in sick a few times, but if you were to ask me what the significance of that was I would have stared at you blankly, or quoted some cheesy Tom Petty saying about making the most of college life.
I'll tell you the details of what I do remember, and what has stuck with me from 2007.
Last March I remember my dad telling me that my uncle had a massive stroke, and was in intensive care on a ventilator. I recall a feeling of disillusionment because he was only forty years old, and even as the news of his condition worsened I just couldn't believe that he would actually die. He did pass away though; a few minutes after the doctors removed his ventilator, surrounded by family. It was either that or condemn him to a life of utter hell, unable to breath, eat, move, think or even be conscious.
There is a saying that death is contagious, and I know I've heard stories of a person's death followed by the death of their spouse or another loved one. Unfortunately it seemed to be the case this year, when in November I learned that my grandfather had advanced prostate cancer which had metastasized to his bones. When isolated to the prostate this particular form of cancer is very curable, but according to the doctors he "lit up like a Christmas tree," meaning the cancer was everywhere; bones, arms, legs, back and possibly even his brain. When I heard this I thought of the conversation I had with my grandfather back in October; he had complained of arm pain.
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