An Oxford Thanksgiving
January 3, 2011 - originally published on Oxford Today
A few weeks ago, I returned to Oxford for thanksgiving, for the first time since finals. At the airport, I had butterflies in my stomach. I was nervous about returning – for the first time as a visitor, not a student.
But as the coach pulled into Gloucester Green, I was hit by the overwhelming familiarity – dragging an all-too-heavy suitcase to the front of college, the fearless cyclists, and the lively, dressed-up crew dates-goers: so little had changed.
I expected that just as my life had changed drastically over the last few months, Oxford (and the people I knew here) would have too.
But over the course of my visit, I found myself slowly settling back into the comfort of returning to the familiar – not just the friendly faces and streets, but also the same routines, similar conversations.
And even though most of my friends are done with studying at Oxford and off doing various things – from laboring through 14-hour nursing shifts to handling social media for a charity – though we no longer had the same essay crises and problem sheets to worry about, I was relieved to find that our lives were surprisingly similar. We shared the common struggles of recent graduates and often, the common nostalgia for everything strange and special about Oxford.
One night during my visit, sitting around a table, sharing a home-cooked thanksgiving dinner (turkey, pumpkin pie, and all) with about 20 others, it became increasingly clear that even though I was across an ocean, living a vastly different and exciting post-university life, I would always find comfort in returning to Oxford and the people I met here – the only ones who understand why carnations make me nervous and nauseous and why I long to go punting when the sun comes out.
Back in New York, people are intrigued by my stories about university – how dinner was like Harry Potter, with a high table and gowns, how we had boat races not football games, crew dates not frat parties.
Perhaps because Oxford is so different from American universities, or because it was an important experience for many who attended the University, across the Atlantic, I have found that the alumni network here is strong and supportive. Oxford graduates I have spoken to (often responding to my out-of-the-blue emails for career advice) are usually warm and eager to reminisce together about the weird and wonderful bits of Oxford. Some I’ve shared tutors with; others laugh with me about the college cat; and then some will mention things everyone knew all-too-well: the incomprehensible lecturers, the awful bops, and the sleepy mornings in the Bod.
So, even as I encounter new experiences and build new bonds, excited as I pace forward from Oxford and student life, it still makes me smile when, after an introduction, someone asks, and what college were you at?
