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Notre Dame in 555 words or less

Jordan Gamble | Friday, May 20, 2011

Welcome to the land of snow excess. McGlinn Hall, home of the Shamrocks and the “hut dance.” Disneyland as a pregame for beating USC. Trying and failing to trifecta Finny’s. Night of Mayhem on campus. Walking home from Domerfest with trumpet players. Going to Domerfest as a junior for free Dip-n-Dots. The bench breaking at a hockey game. Remember that website Juicy Campus? Yeah, me neither.

Buzzin’. The grotto in November 2007 and the best Christmas formal ever. Nicaragua 2010. ND-NOLA Team Silver Dragon. Dear diary, thank you God. Vamps and Vino on Thursday nights in McG 4A. Women’s basketball eating those Huskies for breakfast.

Dance parties in McGlinn. Listening to “Verme,” “Volver,” “Mi Nina Bonita” and “Total Eclipse of the Heart” before and after climbing a volcano. Deep conversations in the DH. Oversharing. Appalachia 2008 — it’s time to ball out. My name is Boo. Zaaaaa. Club H and “Topographies.” Hot and dangerous. Do you like cheese? My favorite’s gouda!

Drummers’ circle. Blue Moon — half-drank but not forgotten. Having a Latina roommate. Crank me up. Snowpocalypse 2011. Riding the elevator with Father Hesburgh, who apparently has never heard of Gummi Worms. When I see an open highway, it’s like … well, it can’t be printed in The Observer.

Being Ross’s aid to Ross-Ade Stadium. You just look like you can move. The Shirt 2009: Rise and strike, bend and snap, same thing, right? A sea of flesh. Observer Observer Observer Observer. Duncan Mass and “Canticle of the Turning.” It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.

RIP Lula’s. RIP Keenan Revue. RIP Hesburgh Challenge. RIP quarter dogs. RIP McGlinn togas. RIP fun pep rallies (wait, did those ever exist?) I would say “RIP Notre Dame” but I’ll be vicariously living through every other student here until the day I die. Here’s to hoping I, too, can afford football tickets and a swanky condo on Edison that I’ll only use six or seven weekends per year.

Beautiful landscaping, beautiful bathrooms, beautiful dorms, beautiful bookstore — oh, so that’s where our tuition goes.

Worst record ever in football and I would never trade it for anything. Seriously, how can you complain about running to Stonehenge after UCLA, the Michigan downpour in 2008, the last-minute wins of 2009 and the epic epicness that was Notre Dame-Utah last fall? You can’t really, unless you are a Notre Dame hipster too cool for unabashed happiness. Rushing the field after the Utah game and following the “Rage” mattress-pad-banner out through the tunnel was probably one of the happiest moments in my life. Except for opening my Notre Dame acceptance letter Dec. 17, 2006 — and promptly laying down on my kitchen floor and screaming.

Knowing that feeling better is just a grotto visit away. Duck Island. Alexandra, you are amazing and I’m gonna miss not being across the street from you next year. Tour guide inside knowledge: Did you know that Mary on the Dome weighs a whole bunch ton and is taller than two Luke Zellers? Ranting about Catholic Social Teaching over Papa Smurfs #onlyatnotredame.

The jig, the drum cadences, the memories, the “Triangle Room” at DeBart, the Spanglish, the Nicaragua ukulele, the never-ending supply of Diet Coke in the basement of South, the food at SDH, the joy, the sadness, the friendships, the weather.

Love. Thee. Notre. Dame.

Jordan Gamble is graduating with a degree in American Studies and a minor in both Journalism, Ethics and Democracy and Catholic Social Teaching. She has an internship at The New York Times this summer and might actually graduate to real work by September, but it’s possible she’ll just drop everything and write trashy teen romance novels for a living. She’d like to thank her parents for working really darn hard to get her to Notre Dame in the first place. Jordan can be reached at [email protected]

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.