Since I was 15 years old, I’ve carried the same line with me through every new stage of life.
Anyone who knows me knows that my favorite movie is “Dead Poets Society.” The first time I watched it, I was stuck on Robin Williams’ Mr. Keating reciting Walt Whitman’s line: “The powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” The question that follows, “What will your verse be?” has followed me ever since.
It’s been a 7 a.m. daily reminder on my phone. It’s tattooed on my arm in the form of “Carpe Diem.” Somewhere between being 15 and now, through classes, internships, friendships and many deadlines and late nights, I started to write my answer.
When I arrived at college, I didn’t have a clear idea of what that answer would be. I knew I loved writing. I knew I cared about informing people, but I was also a quiet freshman walking into rooms full of people who seemed far more certain than I was. Now, getting ready to graduate as campus and local news editor, that version of me feels so far away, even though it was only three years ago.
College taught me that your verse isn’t written in one night. Mine was written in numerous article drafts, in interviews and in rewrites where I obsessed over one sentence too long. But it was also written outside of work.
It was written in getting ready for nights out with Inhaler blasting through the apartment, countless hours spent in Alden Library with my women in STEM friends, sitting on my roommate’s floor talking, debriefing for hours and walking through campus when everything was exciting and uncertain.
A lot of my growth happened at The Post. To Suzie, my co-editor, and Emily, my former co-editor, thank you for making the long hours and heavy news fun and exciting. To Kaitlin, my staff writer, thank you for always pushing stories further and making me want to do the same. News can be demanding, but it is infinitely better when shared with people who care as deeply as you do.
Outside the newsroom, the best part of college was always the people around me.
To my best friend Gabby, my twin flame and best friend since we were 14: somehow we ended up in Athens together, lived together all three years and got matching “Carpe Diem” tattoos along the way. Thank you for being the first call for every crashout, every celebration and every random late-night Taco Bell run.
To Sydney, Anna, Alison, Paige and Ellie: thank you for making Athens feel like home during my final year and for bringing so much fun and chaos with you. To my dear friend Maggie, whom I’m always happy to be mistaken for: meeting you in D.C. gave me a lifelong friend and one of my biggest supporters.
And to my mom, who introduced me to that Whitman line in the first place, and to both my parents, for believing in me before I knew how to believe in myself, and for keeping my friends and me supplied with more Insomnia Cookies than anyone reasonably should.
I don’t think you ever fully figure out what your verse is. I think it changes as you do. Right now, mine looks like people I love, opportunities I’m glad I took and memories I know I’ll keep for a long time. It looks nothing like I imagined when I was 15, but it’s so much better.
The powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. I’m grateful I got to start writing here.
Maggie Amacher is a senior studying journalism at Ohio University. Please note the opinions expressed in this column do not represent those of The Post. Want to talk to Maggie about their column? Email her at ma657122@ohio.edu.
