Several years ago, I interpreted for an Italian man undergoing treatment at Vanderbilt Hospital. When he was recovered enough that his wife could push him in a wheelchair, they asked me if there was a park nearby where they could enjoy the spring. I told them about Centennial Park. The next time I saw them they told me that they had enjoyed the park; it was beautiful, they said, but they were surprised not to have seen any little children, moms with strollers, etc. Turns out they were on the Vanderbilt campus the whole time.
I've always been happy to work at such a beautiful place. I used to arrive on campus quite early in the morning and often saw hawks—and once an owl—on the hunt. I've never taken the beauty of the campus for granted.
I felt a little wistful as I was snapping these pictures, thinking how much I would miss it, and then thought, You idiot, you live a mile away; you can come here any time! After all, the magnolia explosion doesn't happen until after classes end, and I've always managed to enjoy that. In future years, maybe I too will come to think of the campus as a beautiful park.
|Furman Hall, the language building|