Liveliness in the balance

McKenna Snow
Class of 2024

(12/2021) I am from the South; I was born in Texas, lived in Tennessee, and am currently stationed in Kentucky. There’s always been something I’ve loved about the openness of the southern landscape. Skies I can see, that aren’t obscured by city skyscrapers—though beautiful in their own way—are something I truly love. I love open space, long stretches of road that give a wide view of the plots of land local farmers own, and towns that are spaced out enough from each other that the twenty-minute drive to get to them feel like fun road trips.

But I don’t just like a flat landscape; I like the rolling mountains of West Virginia that display magnificent collections of trees all changing color in the autumn, too. And I like the cities, but I like my distance from them.

So, when I was in my senior year of high school, these were all things I liked in surrounding areas of where I lived, and they were things I did consider in my search for the right college. Was a place like University of Louisville, which is in the heart of the city, the place I wanted to reside in? The school is laced throughout the streets of downtown, and I’m sure students who flourish in the urban lifestyle consider it perfect—but not for me.

And what about a place like the school I considered out in Kansas? I liked this school’s remoteness, and its location in the big open skies out there—but it was too removed from surrounding towns. So where was the balance?

I found the balance in Emmitsburg, Maryland. Though far from home, and though geographically more northern than my southern roots expected me to gravitate to, this little town where the Mount resides has a balance I really love.

The campus is about five minutes from the town of Emmitsburg, and yet it remains individual and unique, with the special ability to call the mountainside its home. The campus is also right by the highway which runs by the foot of the mountain, and I like it because the highway poses the opportunity for that twenty-minute road trip with friends into town. Actually, not just one town; depending on the direction you take, you’ll be whisked to Gettysburg, a beautiful rustic town with a rich history, or to Frederick, a more modern experience with tons of little stores and restaurants that entrepreneurs have brought to its center. There are lots of things to do within short driving distances, but the Mount’s location isn’t overwhelmed by it. It retains its beauty, its rural charm, its connection to the Catoctin mountains, and its ability to offer its students wide open skies.

If the Mount were in an urban setting, I think its uniqueness would feel stifled. The sight of the historic chapel is interwoven with the backdrop of the mountain trees. The science building’s classical architecture deserves its standalone plot of land on the flatter part of campus, with its several iconic trees adorning its perimeter. The rugby field is wide and stoutly at a more elevated part of campus’ edge, making it conducive for the Astronomy club’s stargazing events when light pollution needs to be at a minimum. Yet, it is not so far removed from the campus that it feels too unsafely far from the buildings—in fact, almost everything on the Mount’s campus is within a five to fifteen-minute walking distance.

Does this make the campus feel too small, if I can be almost anywhere on campus in a matter of minutes? Certainly not. It’s helpful on cold days, when I have places to be and not much of a desire to freeze on my way. It’s also a highly conducive campus for solid community-building. Everyone’s classes are close to one another’s. Everyone seeking food obtains it from either the café, the food truck, or the cafeteria. You become comfortable with the regulars you see every day, even if you don’t know their names. You recognize them, see them in the class halls, or in the elevator up to your dorm. Once in a while, someone who you see often finally breaks the ice, and they introduce themselves—just so you can put a name to the familiar face. Yet, it can be the start of some of the best friendships. You find that the person also knows your friend, and you agree that you should all get lunch together sometime.

The longer the semester goes on, the more it starts to resemble the feel of a broken-in Birkenstock shoe. It’s sturdy, dependable, well-made, and worn in. All the corners of campus, being as close as they are, become familiar—in one corner, there’s the mailroom, and in the other are the rugby field and cafeteria.

Something I really love about the experience of campus life on a mountain is going beyond the perimeters of campus as you ascend the mountain, discovering the hiking trails students have been utilizing for years. I’ve taken many beautiful hikes up to Indian lookout with my friends, making joyful memories with them in the forest.

I will say that I think my college experience would have been different if it had been in a more urban setting. Perhaps an urban setting would have been livelier, in a certain sense, with a higher student body and more immediate, literal connection to the city. But the Mount has shown me its own sort of liveliness, in the rustle of the colorful trees, and in the busy highway inviting me to explore the surrounding towns. It’s shown me the liveliness in the stars, in the gathering of friends at the Astronomy club who look for planets through the science department’s telescopes. The liveliness is in the small details you become attached to in the everyday experience; it’s even in the sidewalks everybody uses. It’s in the café when the regulars swing by to grab coffee ordered before class, and your friends stopping by the booth at which you’re doing homework. The liveliness is in the potential of it all and where you decide to find it—and in this balance of mountain air and local communities, I’ve embraced all the little moments of it.