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I didn’t plan on going to the University of Massachusetts. I talked to a UMass representative during my junior year of high school. It seemed OK. But every time the school sent me information in the mail, my last name was spelled ‘Czarber.’ I took that as a sign I shouldn’t go to a school that, while trying to recruit me, equated my last name to a Russian figurehead. I was cutting my losses before it was too late.

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When I was younger I was terrified of tornadoes. This might not seem relevant. While researching the telltale signs of tornadoes (green sky, funnel clouds, etc.), I came across a little known fact: Massachusetts has the least number of tornadoes in any given year in America.

My college search was pretty superficial. I didn’t care enough to look past location and school newspaper status. I had ruled out UMass, but my mom’s best friend had visited with her daughter a few years back and loved the school. This was solely because of the duck pond. So, on a trip to see my sister play field hockey in Vermont, my mom insisted we detour to Amherst to check out the cesspool that UMass calls the campus pond.

We got there too late to catch a tour. And, although it was only October, it was already snowing. But I was impressed by the 28-story library. Little did I know how few books occupied each floor. So on the basis of The Daily Collegian, the Holyoke mountain range and the W.E.B. Du Bois library, I applied to UMass.

I wasn’t going to go to graduation. I spent my last semester of college in Thailand and I planned on staying all summer to travel. But I’m indebted to UMass. My flight home now leaves me with less than 24 hours between arrival in the states and graduation. I’m not even going back to my house. I go straight from four months in Thailand to Amherst.

I keep trying to think about what I could possibly do for my last weekend in Amherst that could wrap up my life there. The nagging desire to do everything one last time is overwhelming. Even this column, disjointed as it is, written 11 time zones apart, serves as my last words for The Collegian.

It’s hard to conclude my college career outside of the newsroom, outside of the hemisphere. I guess it’s safe to say despite the circumstances that brought me to UMass, Amherst has left me with those warm fuzzy feelings. To put things in perspective, after four months deprived, I want to earn my weekly beer income from Trivia Night at The Harp.

A couple days ago I visited a man named P’Biekbamrung. He works as an NGO [non-governmental organization]. In Thailand NGO’s are oddly enough individuals. He poured me a cup of local, Isaan beer, complete with ice because every drink in Thailand has ice, and told me that it was the best in the world. He said Isaan beer, like the Isaan people, has been marginalized.

He said I have tried other beers so my memories stop me from enjoying Isaan beer. He told me that I need to ‘strike a balance between my internal and my external beings before I can be partial.’ ‘
He told me, ‘Every beer is good for different people, different tastes and different memories.’

I think that applies to a lot of things.

Melissa Garber was a Collegian editorial/opinion editor and columnist, and is a graduating senior. She can be reached at [email protected].