One of the most remarkable aspects of living in a small academic community is the abundance of choices that compete for attention. I try dutifully to review the faculty and staff digests that appear in my e-mail each morning. But sometimes they overwhelm me—20 or 25 items ranging from musical events to volunteer opportunities.
A candidate for a position in the education department will be giving a lecture on campus early in the afternoon. The Joey Rosenblum Intramural Soccer Tournament, organized by students in honor of a fellow student who died tragically in 2003 during spring break, will be held later the same afternoon.
Tonight there will be auditions for plays to be staged in the spring. A professor will describe his research involving Orcas in the Puget Sound, partly to recruit a group of biology and environmental students to join him for his eighth-block course next spring.
And the list goes on. How do hard-working students and equally hard-working faculty find the time to engage in this plethora of activity? Yet the pace continues throughout the year—distinguished visiting writers, colloquia on the State of the Rockies, international experts.
Every day and every night all of us can choose to explore a new interest, to nourish a long time yen for a musical genre, or to view a favorite old film. We can gather with old friends and familiar subjects, or step into a new setting. I often wonder if I made the right choice—like the night I went to cheer for our hockey team as they took on their fiercest rival (and gave up a two-goal lead to lose in the third period) rather than take my family to the Christmas choir concert in our chapel. In retrospect, I thought there would be more hockey games but not another Christmas concert.
Then, sometimes I am deeply grateful for a wise choice. The Saturday after Thanksgiving I took Jacqueline and my daughter Noelle to a dinner and musical evening fundraiser in tribute to jazz great Diane Reeves, a neighbor from Denver. We met new friends, discovered neighbors who shared a love of jazz, and after a lovely meal and wonderful music, Diane Reeves stood to acknowledge her family and friends. And, as an appreciation, she invited her very first music teacher (Ms. Williams) to accompany her in the first song they worked on together.
As Diane Reeves sang an incredibly personal and powerful rendition of “I Want Jesus to Walk With Me,” I was lifted to a rare and blessed place—and shared an unforgettable moment with my wife and daughter and all of those who had gathered to salute this extraordinarily gifted woman.
Yup, I had made the right choice that evening.
