The first was the glorious day that the JMU football team managed to defeat Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, much to the general surprise and astonishment of the entire world. It was right after I graduated, and the celebrations in Harrisonburg were pretty fantastic. Despite the fact that the game was not at home, those still in the Burg rushed Bridgeforth Stadium and partied into the night. Definitely wanted to be there.
The next was in February for Allison and DJ's joint recital. Then it wasn't the community that I missed, but the facilities. It was the first time I had been to a recital in the new performing arts building and I was SO MAD that I had missed it by one year. Unfair.
The third time was this year for the commemoration of September 11. On days of grief and sorrow, you long for community, and strangely enough, there was no group gathering here in our nation's capital, but there was at JMU, and I certainly missed being part of that community that night.
The fourth time was last night.
Last night a girl was struck by a bus while walking through campus and passed away. Her death marks the fourth JMU death in the past ten days, and the sixth this semester (five students, one faculty member).
In a time of sadness and tragedy, I am so moved by the way JMU and its wide network of students, faculty, and alumni have come together to grieve the loss of people they probably have never met, but who they feel connected to nonetheless. It's been twelve hours since news started spread about last night's tragedy, and my Facebook newsfeed and twitter timeline show almost nothing but people speaking out in honor of the victims, their friends and families, and the JMU Nation. I watched a Facebook event to wear purple today (I proudly sit at my desk in my purple out shirt) go from 300 attendees to 6,000 in less than an hour.
No one wrote disparaging things about the bus driver. No one commented on the mistakes made and what could have been done to prevent this from happening.
The only thing people shared was love. And that speaks volumes about my alma mater.
My friends and I call JMU Disneyland College (a term I once heard our university President use...so it's totally official). And it's so true...everyone is just NICE there. It's probably one of my favorite things about JMU as a whole. Everywhere you go, people are smiling at strangers, holding doors open for one another, leaving their cell phones and wallets unsecured because there's no fear of anyone taking them...the rest of the world just isn't like that. There are nice people everywhere, but I have never been anywhere else with so many of them all in one place.
The sense of community at JMU is absolutely overwhelming. It's quite apparent today, thanks to Facebook, twitter, and the plethora of purple that people are probably wearing, but it's always present. I didn't realize how much JMU apparel I had until this summer, when I would wear JMU shirts to every rehearsal, which did not go unnoticed by my cast. They also pointed out that my car is covered in JMU stickers, and I have JMU license plates. Obviously I was aware of all of this, but what I wasn't aware of was that my sense of school pride, which is not particularly higher than any of my classmates (past, present, and future), is not necessarily the norm for other schools across the country. Not to say that JMU has more pride than anyone ever (that would be a foolish assumption); it doesn't, but it has a humble sense of pride, a pride of community rather than solely of achievements.
That community is certainly felt today, but it's not the first time I've been acutely aware of it. The first time I was overwhelmed by the love present at my school was my freshman year of college when the mass shootings of Virginia Tech took place. I was used to seeing purple and gold attire, but the days that followed were full of nothing but orange and maroon. Candlelight vigils were held and attended by thousands. People joined together to honor victims at a school they didn't attend, that maybe they knew, but most likely did not.
The next time I felt how strongly Dukes could come together was far more personal; it was when Jim and Mrs. Smith died. That period of time will always been a grief filled blur for me, but one of the things that stands out so strongly is how many people offered condolences, how many people came to Jim's funeral, and how everyone came together in the aftermath to show their support of the Smith family, be it through vigils, memorial services, or even a concert given by all of the JMU A cappella groups in honor of them.
The reaction to their death is probably best described by something I found out over a year after they died; I was taking a leadership class taught by JMU Vice-President Dr. Warner, and our first assignment was a personal reflection on a reading we had done. I don't even remember what the topic of the reading was, but in my reflection I related it to losing Jim and Mrs. Smith. When our reflections were handed back, Dr. Warner came up to me and said "I want you to know how much I enjoyed reading your reflection. I didn't realize that anyone in my class knew Jim Smith. When I heard about what happened, I drove up from Harrisonburg and attended that funeral. I couldn't believe how many people were there; it was truly unbelievable. I never met Jim, but when I saw that there had to be more than 2,000 people at his funeral, I figured this was a guy who had made a serious mark on the world in just nineteen years. It was so incredibly moving." Here was a man who had never met Jim, but drove two hours to attend his funeral, simply because he was a JMU student.
And now people come together today to honor the Dukes we have lost this fall. As a graduate, I am able to more clearly see just how far a reach our network has; most of my friends are graduated and spread across the country (and world), yet everyone, no matter where they are now, are reaching out to show their love and support for the JMU Nation.
This is what JMU is. Generous. Gracious. Loving. Today is a sad day indeed, but it is an inspirational one as well. It has reminded me that I am always a Duke, and even outside JMU's sun-shining like campus I should act as warmly and kindly as people do there. I may have had a long list of complaints while I was there, and maybe there would be things about my life that would have been easier had I gone somewhere else, but I would not change where I decided to go to school for even one second.
The Dukes that we lost this fall, along with their friends and families, are in my thoughts and prayers today. May their deaths remind us all that life is short, unexpected, and that it should be full of love. Today I am thankful for my friends, I am thankful for my school, and I am thankful for my life.
Show your colors, proud and true, we are the Dukes of JMU.
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