When you arrive in Sewanee you drive through the old stone
gates where a sign ominously informs you that you are entering “The Domain of
the University of the South.”
Legend has it that when you leave the gates a Sewanee angel watches over
you until your return. I have
certainly found my angels in Sewanee and they have given me protection these
past fives years.
Located on the Cumberland Plateau in southeastern Tennessee,
Sewanee is a small private liberal arts collect governed by the Episcopal
Church. Affectionately called the
Hogwarts of the South, the school is modeled after Cambridge in both its
architecture and love of tradition:
all of the buildings are made of stone and professors wear gowns to
teach. The fog, which has often
been written about, creates a mystical feel.
Home of the Sewanee Review, the oldest continuous literary
journal in the country, Sewanee is steeped in literary tradition. Thanks to the generous support of the
Tennessee Williams endowment, the quaint hamlet is also home to the Sewanee Writers’ Conference each summer. It was a fellowship as the Tennessee Williams
Playwright-in-Residence which brought me to Sewanee five years ago.
The fellowship was truly a gift; Sewanee arrived in my life
when I needed it most. Here I have
had the time and space to write, while also being given a livable wage,
housing, and access to health insurance:
basic necessities that artists rarely have. It’s also allowed me to be the writer I want to be while
also being the parent I hope to be.
BUILDING A VILLAGE
When I moved to New York I found my tribe for the first time; in Sewanee I built my village. One thing I have learned from being a parent is that
children can create instant community.
The people I met when we first arrived were also parents, and we were
bound by our desire to be good parents while balancing our work life.
In Sewanee parenthood has given me membership into a club
of compatriots who understand the frustration, exhaustion, and satisfaction
that comes with being a parent.
There are other friends who don’t have children. They play an important role as
well: they provide me a much-needed
escape from parenthood.
When you live on a college campus people who love to learn
surround you. It’s one of the
things I love most about the community; I am surrounded by smart people.
Sarah, Betsy, Shelley, Megan, and April are all smart people in ways that don't feel intimidating (well, maybe a little), but inspiring. Among the group there are two college
professors, an English teacher, an Episcopal priest, and the coordinator of the
prestigious Sewanee Writers’ Conference.
When you don’t have living parents or siblings you learn to build community. Each of these women, along with numerous others in the community, would take my child in an emergency. They have provided my daughter with play dates while I grade, kept her overnight while I’ve rehearsed a play or attended an event. They have engaged in late night texting sessions when I needed to vent about the frustrations of parenthood, and they ask about my grandmother and what I’m writing. They are invested in my success as a writer, a parent, and a professor. And when I see them they always ask, “How are you?” That might seem basic, but they ask how I’m doing and really listen to the response. When you’re a single parent that doesn’t always happen.
DRINKS AT THE INN
Instead of lunch, we steal away for a drink at the Sewanee Inn. Sitting by the fireplace, we
cozy up on the overstuffed couches and share stories about our children’s
latest quirks, challenges at work, and plans for spring break. We talk about the changes in our bodies
as they grow older, aging parents, and the logistics of daily life. And there’s laughter, lots and lots of
laughter.
This mighty group of women reminds me of the things we
should all look for in friends. They never make me feel self-conscious about
who I am as a parent. They love me
in yoga pants and no makeup. They
know that my daughter loves frogs and turtles and won’t eat vegetables unless
they are raw. They’ve all seen me
cry and they’ve celebrated my victories.
And they have taught me how important it is to have people in your life who
have seen your child at their worst - and perhaps even a glimpse of your parenting at its worse -
and rather than judgment offer understanding.
When I turned 40 they planned a surprise party for me and
gathered all of the people who have helped define my experience here in
Sewanee. It was a lovely act of
friendship. I’m not sure how much
longer we will remain in Sewanee; uncertainty looms. But if this chapter is coming to an end I can leave knowing
that Sewanee has served me well. Sewanee
have given me a place to call home, an opportunity to write, to discover my
love of teaching, and the resources to grow as both. The community has reaffirmed the old adage that it takes a
village to raise a child and that we all have a chance to build family wherever
we go.
Inspired to take a friend to lunch? Snap a picture and post it on Twitter with the hashtag #whatdoyouhungerfor
There is nothing like a group that serves as your village (or tribe!). :) Glad you have one!
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