The summer after I graduated from Whitworth, in 1992, I moved into a studio apartment above Professor of English Vic Bobb's garage. The apartment featured shag carpet, a three-quarter wall between the sleeping area and the living room, and a low, sloped ceiling that made showering upright impossible. This was the first space I had lived alone in and I loved it. For décor, my mom sewed a tablecloth for the dining table and on the partial wall I hung my first piece of framed art, which I had bought at a grocery store.
I was proud of my new digs and wanted to show them off, so I decided to host a dinner party. The guest list? Vic and his wife, Cathy; Professor of History Dale Soden, who had been my academic advisor; and Whitworth staff members Terry Rayburn Mitchell, '93, and Cheryl Florea Vawter, '94, who both worked in the Lindaman Center at the time and with whom I had worked as a student.
It didn't occur to me that I shouldn't invite them. I didn't consider that they wouldn't come.
This is one of the many qualities that make Whitworth special to me: faculty and staff members who will spend their evening with a 22-year-old recent graduate, sitting hunched beneath a sloped ceiling, eating spaghetti at a cramped table. I can no longer recall our conversation, but I can still hear our laughter. In future issues of Whitworth Today, this page will be a place to share voices of the Whitworth community. I look forward to our conversation.