Collins Unbound

Below is the text of a letter written by one of our student assistants to seniors.  We thought you might enjoy it!  Be sure to check out the yearbooks in the front lobby and the many images of graduation on display in the LINK.  Best of luck in the future and congratulations, once again!

A Fond Farewell

To all of my Dear Graduates,

I’ve known most of you for four years now as you’ve studied among my stacks.  I’ve watched you change from eager freshmen into astute seniors.  Now, I am delighted to send you out into the world, as graduates.

Congratulations.

Do you remember the first time you walked through my shelves, running your fingers along the spines of books, taking deep breaths of the studious air?  I do.  Perhaps you were awed by the number of books, more than you can imagine, on any given topic.  Perhaps you could not wait to crack them open and smell the knowledge seeping off the pages.  I waited for you to begin your research, excited for you to plumb my depths, and uncover my hidden secrets.  Your first forays out of the front reading rooms and Learning Commons were exciting for me.  I watched quietly as you found treasures in my stacks.

Your minds grew as we got to know each other better.  At first, you continually asked for the fiction section, the novels.  Slowly, you encountered the wonders of the DVD stacks.  Eventually you found in me your quiet place, somewhere to study without distractions.  Around your junior year, you realized that all of those books were something more than decoration.  You began to find the treasures I had been so eager for you to find.  We became close as you grew to know me and I became your confidant, your research assistant, your comfort in stressful times.  I knew the secrets of your exciting research.  I watched your face glow with excitement when you made your first big breakthrough.  I stayed up with you at four in the morning writing your one last final paper before you could escape for a much needed break.

Now I must say goodbye.  As school comes to an end, we will see less and less of each other, until the echoes of your whispered voice will be mere memories among my walls.  You have now realized that my resources are not limitless.  It is time for you to move on to bigger libraries, with more books, and other secrets for you to uncover.  I ask only that you remember me, your friend, confidant, and comforter, as you move on into the world.  Perhaps, someday, you might add a book to my stacks, a product of your long hours of study.  Perhaps, maybe twenty years from now, you will return, with a young researcher of your own, a student whose voice will be added to the excited whispers of a new freshman class.  I will smile, remembering your quiet footfall, and the times we shared, and then open my arms to embrace a new mind to nurture.

Now, I send you out into the world.  Make me proud.

Your Friend,
Collins Memorial Library