The View from My Cup…the fountain at Marshall University. (And yes, I know that is a bottle, not a cup.) I sit in the shade a huge tree, breeze ruffling the leaves and wait for my son. Two years ago he and I stood here together during his orientation. But when I see the fountain, that isn’t the first memory that springs to mind. Thirty-nine years I stood here in the shadow of the fountain for my own orientation to attend MU.
Only a few students wander by, and even less are seated outside enjoying the day. Signage inside the Student Center remind everyone this year’s orientation is very soon. In a few short weeks, my son will begin his junior year, beginning the downhill side of his undergraduate degree.
The quiet of the campus, the lovely landscaping, the silent presence of the fountain. The fountain reminds me of loss…of pride…of perseverance. Whether it’s been nearly four decades for me, or only two years for my son…all Marshall University students share the bond that only an unspeakable, unimaginable tragedy forges. After all…We are Marshall.