Jenica Rosekrans '00 died three weeks ago.
Did you get that? Let me repeat it. Jenica Rosekrans '00 died three weeks ago. There's nothing we can do to make these words untrue. There's nothing we can do to bring her back.
Maybe you were unaffected by her death. Maybe you only knew her peripherally. Chances are that you didn't know her. And chances are that enough time has passed now that you feel comfortable moving on and enjoying the beautiful Hanover summer. After all, you've got the vaccine and surely no more Dartmouth students will die - of meningococcous, or of anything else. It's your Sophomore Summer, the time when nearly all of your classmates are here and you own the campus. The perfect time to pursue whatever you desire. Hold that thought for a minute. Let's get back to Jenica.
I was walking down Webster Avenue, joking with a friend, on the night that Jenica died. Another friend stopped me and said, "Janelle, a Dartmouth student just died." I started to laugh along with the joke he was making when I saw the panic and utter helplessness in his eyes. I stared at him for several seconds, my mouth open as if mid-sentence, trying to process this inconcievable information. Dartmouth students just don't die. Surely he was mistaken. Surely it was a practical joke.
As my brain began to re-engage and attempted to process what had previously been unfathomable, I asked all the pertinent questions, and, determining that there was nothing I could do to constructively impact the eminent campus hysteria, I found my way home.
Shortly thereafter, a friend came to say goodbye before she left the next day. She walked into my room, and I immediately told her about Jenica. One of her most poignant comments in response was about how we students spend so much of our lives planning for tomorrow. And she's absolutely right. In this culture of test scores and grades and graduate school and high-paying jobs and competition, rarely do we slow down enough to appreciate today. And why should we? There will always be a tomorrow, and tomorrow will always be more important than right now. Today is simply yesterday's tomorrow.
For those of you who weren't here during Commencement and Reunion, I wish that I had the words to articulate and describe for you the palpable sadness and feeling of defeat that permeated campus. Jenica was someone who many people knew of, even if they hadn't interacted with her directly. Everyone knew what had happened, and spent the days following in a kind of quiet, inward reflection, evaluating their lives and their relationships - with family members, friends, and themselves. Everyone wanted to hug you, to reaffirm the bond you shared. I wish you could have felt the atmosphere in the Delta Delta Delta house, Jenica's sorority. The bouquet of flowers and candle on the dining room table were enough to bring tears to my eyes, not to mention the palor - supplemented with sleeplessness - on the sisters' faces. They all pulled together in miraculous fashion and were supported by countless others who offered incredible amounts of support.
The sunrise service that Reverend King delivered at 6:30 a.m. in the President's garden was a tribute to Jenica's generous spirit, playfulness, and curiosity. I've never been to a College event that started that early in the morning, and I would be surprised if many of the other attendees had either. I would suspect that for the more than 50 people there that morning, that service was just as much about them and their own sentiments as it was about Jenica. Which I gather is how she would have wanted it. Death is a funny thing to throw into a week designed around revelry and lighthearted fun; its lessons, though, are undoubtedly important ones.
As I sit here writing this column, I am settling in to my second summer at Dartmouth. Not an easy choice for me to make initially, deciding to stay in Hanover has provided me a unique opportunity for trying something new at the College: appreciating today. I'm not going to preach to you about spending time during Sophomore Summer with your friends, going canoeing, hiking, watching movies, eating lunch on the Green, joining a new organization, or even the virtues of doing nothing. I'm not going to tell you to run out and and tell your family and friends how much you love them. What I will advise, though, is some reflection time. My decision to stay at Dartmouth was originally designed to facilitate my next endeavor in life. What I learned from Jenica's unexpected and untimely death is that what I do right now is just as important as whatever it is that I am planning for in the future, and, more importantly, I've discovered the strength and love and support that are generated in this community which make appreciating today such a necessary undertaking. Think about Jenica tonight or tomorrow. Figure out what sort of importance today has for you. And then take advantage of that lesson. In the end, maybe that is what Jenica Rosekrans '00 can teach us all.
