inter (Nat)alia: On the Impossibility of Finding a Familiar Face in a Dark and Crowded Street

Fireworks framing the roof of the magazine.

This post might also be titled “On the Ease of Watching Fireworks After the Leaves Have Fallen Off the Trees.”

Or, as I originally intended, “On the Evolution of Panic.”

I’m speaking here of academic panic – the experience of having a big paper or project to work on all semester and procrastinating until the mounting pressure and shrinking time impel you to get it done.

The grade for my Public International Law class is based on a 30 page “major academic paper” (my professor’s description). In law school, that means lots of research and citations to authoritative (or at least trustworthy) sources. I made some progress on my paper through the semester – mostly because we had due dates for our topic, outline, and rough draft –but I still had a lot to finish this week before it came due at 5 pm on Friday.

As I slogged through it, I traced the evolution of my emotional reactions to working on it:

For most of the semester, my attitude was best exemplified by a James C. Christensen painting titled “Lawrence Pretended Not to Notice that a Bear Had Become Attached to his Coattail.”
On Monday, that feeling changed to the sort of feeling Harry Potter had in The Goblet of Fire when he was desperately trying to find a way to breathe under water for an hour.
On Tuesday, I thought seriously for the first time about the possibility of failing the class. But, I decided I preferred grinding out a mediocre paper to outright failure, which was some comfort. This stage also felt a bit like Harry Potter, specifically when he decides he’d rather face a dragon than give up and hide in the Muggle world (also in The Goblet of Fire).
On Wednesday, I was a bit numb. About 1:30 am I paused to decide how long to stay up. At that point I wasn’t quite halfway done. I worked for two more hours before I ran out of steam.
On Thursday I felt calmer; I’d gotten far enough that I felt reasonably certain I would not fail the class. About 4:30 am I decided to get a few hours of sleep before finishing.
On Friday, I reached the “Never again!” stage. After an achingly long time cleaning up my citations and footnotes, I uploaded my paper to the school website, printed a copy, and drove to school to slip the copy under an office door.

At that point I was wound too tightly to feel relieved. And I discovered it is very hard to go to bed at midnight after a week of staying up until 2:30 or 4:30 am, even with only 4 hours of sleep the night before.

But my paper was done.

My weekend was much more enjoyable. I went to help with the stake’s monthly Bishop’s Storehouse delivery, I watched It’s a Wonderful Life, and I went to the Grand Illumination – Colonial Williamsburg’s official Christmas season kickoff.

The Grand Illumination is what prompted the title of this post. I knew some members of my ward were congregating in the same general area to watch the events, but I never managed to find anyone I know. As I wandered around the crowd, I met only dark (albeit friendly) shadows also milling about, watching the Fife & Drum Band, huddling around the fire baskets on five-foot poles, or waiting for the fireworks to start.

The pinwheel.
Huzzah!

They Grand Illumination program includes music and other events, but I just went to watch the fireworks finale. And I have never seen fireworks like these – they weren’t imposing and impressive like the typical 4th of July fare, they were just fun and showy and sparkly and celebratory. They were the firework equivalent of a 5-year-old’s Christmas Eve excitement.

I watched the show from in front of the magazine, which was a great place to be. A ways off on my left I could hear more fireworks going off at the Colonial Capital. A ways off to my right I could hear even more fireworks going off at the Governor’s Palace. The show right in front of me was so close it was almost on top of us. The crowd was perfectly responsive:

*first explosion* = “Gasp!” (with a communal jump of surprise)

*BANG!* = “Ooh!” . . . *BOOM!* = “Ah!” . . . *BANG* = "Ooh!" . . . *BOOM* = "Ah!"

*long sequence of brilliant flashes and showers of light* . . . “HUZZAH!”

(Ok, I didn’t actually hear a “huzzah,” but that was the general spirit of the reaction.)

The fireworks went off right around the magazine, allowing some of the sparks to tumble cheerfully down the guardhouse roof. Some of the fireworks looked like the classic Christmas Star of folklore, a bright shining light with a long tail. The pinwheel was a bit hit. The evening ended with the Fife & Drum Band’s customary march down DOG Street.

It was great.

Maybe next year I’ll bring hot cocoa.