Fresh out of UVA and into Baltimore, I landed at Mercantile Bankshares as a credit analyst. I was thoroughly "schooled out" after eight straight years between Woodberry Forest and UVA. Not long into my Baltimore tenure, my father casually floated the idea that when the moment felt right, he'd back any graduate school ambitions I might develop. My reaction? Pure revulsion at the thought. He smiled, recognized my disgust for what it was, and simply said, "you'll know when it's time."
Five years passed. Banking revealed itself as something other than my life's work, and I noticed the quiet fire that was growing inside, I needed to make a change, and that required credentials. Dad had called it. As he so often did.
I cast my net wide: Darden, Kellogg, Columbia, Tuck, and several others. Darden's rejection stung deeply. Charlottesville was home territory, surely, they'd embrace one of their own? Meanwhile, Columbia extended an offer. New York City represented everything I wasn't: concrete instead of grass, sirens instead of silence, a shoebox apartment rivaling my old Metcalf dorm room in size. The prospect of two years in the city that refuses to sleep held zero appeal.
Thankfully, my father, uncle and I had gamed out my what-if scenarios in a North Carolina duck blind while I was awaiting application decisions. While both of them reminded me it would ultimately be my decision where I landed, they concluded that Columbia, despite the discomfort, would deliver education and life lessons impossible to find anywhere else.
So when acceptance came, Manhattan it was. I buried myself in coursework, never pausing to absorb what was happening around me. I powered through without a summer break or internship, wrapping my MBA in fifteen months flat. My motivation? Simple escape. City life wasn't for me. My post-Columbia landing spot was Mooresville, North Carolina on Lake Norman's edge, just above Charlotte. Back in my element. What I failed to grasp, yet again, was how profoundly New York had reshaped me...until my first return trip for work.
Stepping back into the city, something unexpected happened: I belonged. I knew how to get around easily, I knew the off-the-beaten-path restaurants worth visiting. I could reference my experiences with confidence in meetings. I'd never claim true New Yorker status, but the city had marked me, changed me in ways I was only beginning to understand.
UVA did me another favor in the end. Darden's rejection had opened a door I never would have walked through voluntarily, delivering experiences and growth that remain with me still.
I carry it with pride: I lived in Manhattan. But I envy your current writing spot with my every fiber. The Eastern shore is a special place.
My oldest Hoo was born in Brooklyn, my youngest conceived there. I loved our time there. I wish your daughter all the best. We lived in Carroll Gardens, btw. On President St.
I don't want to overreach here, but would it be possible for mothers of Wahoos to sing The Good Old Song at your Celebration of Life? Otherwise, I'm going to rip into some hit from our HS days, which wouldn't be all that bad. Let me know. I need to start practicing.
Easton's Waterfowl Festival never made it on our list of celebrations when we lived in NoVa (Vienna, near Tysons) and made occasional sojurns to the eastern shore. Chincoteague was our usual desination, but we would always begin to slow down and look at things starting in Easton.
If Dash-1 gets a fraction of the satisfaction that our son does living in Brooklyn, you will see that she made a great choice. For some 20-30’s it’s got it all. Great access to Manhattan, music, cycling, etc. I wish her a great experience.
A Waterfowl festival featuring oysters and Labradors...Over my years living in Prince George's and visiting kin in Isle of Wight counties, I'd been led to think of ducks and Canadian geese as waterfowl.
Of course, I knew in my 20s that I knew everything, anyway.
I wish you and your daughter a safe and enjoyable journey to Brooklyn and best wishes in her endeavors.
S'chastlivogo plavaniye i khoroshij veter zhelayu vam!
Fresh out of UVA and into Baltimore, I landed at Mercantile Bankshares as a credit analyst. I was thoroughly "schooled out" after eight straight years between Woodberry Forest and UVA. Not long into my Baltimore tenure, my father casually floated the idea that when the moment felt right, he'd back any graduate school ambitions I might develop. My reaction? Pure revulsion at the thought. He smiled, recognized my disgust for what it was, and simply said, "you'll know when it's time."
Five years passed. Banking revealed itself as something other than my life's work, and I noticed the quiet fire that was growing inside, I needed to make a change, and that required credentials. Dad had called it. As he so often did.
I cast my net wide: Darden, Kellogg, Columbia, Tuck, and several others. Darden's rejection stung deeply. Charlottesville was home territory, surely, they'd embrace one of their own? Meanwhile, Columbia extended an offer. New York City represented everything I wasn't: concrete instead of grass, sirens instead of silence, a shoebox apartment rivaling my old Metcalf dorm room in size. The prospect of two years in the city that refuses to sleep held zero appeal.
Thankfully, my father, uncle and I had gamed out my what-if scenarios in a North Carolina duck blind while I was awaiting application decisions. While both of them reminded me it would ultimately be my decision where I landed, they concluded that Columbia, despite the discomfort, would deliver education and life lessons impossible to find anywhere else.
So when acceptance came, Manhattan it was. I buried myself in coursework, never pausing to absorb what was happening around me. I powered through without a summer break or internship, wrapping my MBA in fifteen months flat. My motivation? Simple escape. City life wasn't for me. My post-Columbia landing spot was Mooresville, North Carolina on Lake Norman's edge, just above Charlotte. Back in my element. What I failed to grasp, yet again, was how profoundly New York had reshaped me...until my first return trip for work.
Stepping back into the city, something unexpected happened: I belonged. I knew how to get around easily, I knew the off-the-beaten-path restaurants worth visiting. I could reference my experiences with confidence in meetings. I'd never claim true New Yorker status, but the city had marked me, changed me in ways I was only beginning to understand.
UVA did me another favor in the end. Darden's rejection had opened a door I never would have walked through voluntarily, delivering experiences and growth that remain with me still.
I carry it with pride: I lived in Manhattan. But I envy your current writing spot with my every fiber. The Eastern shore is a special place.
Great glimpse, John. Thank you.
My oldest Hoo was born in Brooklyn, my youngest conceived there. I loved our time there. I wish your daughter all the best. We lived in Carroll Gardens, btw. On President St.
I don't want to overreach here, but would it be possible for mothers of Wahoos to sing The Good Old Song at your Celebration of Life? Otherwise, I'm going to rip into some hit from our HS days, which wouldn't be all that bad. Let me know. I need to start practicing.
Of course you can sing!
Great writing, as per usual.
Easton's Waterfowl Festival never made it on our list of celebrations when we lived in NoVa (Vienna, near Tysons) and made occasional sojurns to the eastern shore. Chincoteague was our usual desination, but we would always begin to slow down and look at things starting in Easton.
If Dash-1 gets a fraction of the satisfaction that our son does living in Brooklyn, you will see that she made a great choice. For some 20-30’s it’s got it all. Great access to Manhattan, music, cycling, etc. I wish her a great experience.
A Waterfowl festival featuring oysters and Labradors...Over my years living in Prince George's and visiting kin in Isle of Wight counties, I'd been led to think of ducks and Canadian geese as waterfowl.
Of course, I knew in my 20s that I knew everything, anyway.
I wish you and your daughter a safe and enjoyable journey to Brooklyn and best wishes in her endeavors.
S'chastlivogo plavaniye i khoroshij veter zhelayu vam!