As I sit down to write my last article ever for the Mount Holyoke News, I cannot help but ponder how I want to leave this organization and this school. I most certainly wish to “go out with a bang.” Going out with a bang brings to mind fireworks and pyrotechnics—a display similar to that of the rock concerts and wrestling programs that pepper memories from my youth…and, okay, last July. I most certainly do not, however, wish to do as so many rock stars and wrestlers have done and “crash and burn.” Of course, to go out with a bang, one would almost certainly have to burn at some point; I have yet to see the explosion that involved combustible (but not flammable) matter. If we are still accounting for gravity, any combustion product created by my going out with a bang would have to crash as well. And if we are really into the law of conservation of mass, that crashing, burning product would still be considered a part of me (if I am, in fact, the one going out with a bang). So, maybe it is not always advisable to go out with a bang after all.

I could always “go with God.” That sounds like a respectable way to leave an institution. On the other hand, I am not really ready to “go be with God.” That comes off as a bit final. Of course, it is difficult to go with someone anywhere without being with them at the time. So, maybe going with God may not be the greatest of choices either. I am having a similar dilemma with “going to take my place in the sun,” and also with “going to take my place in the limelight.” Either way, I would have to neglect the admonition given to many a medical drama patient: “Don’t go into the light.” Since being “in the light” appears to carry the same connotation as “being with God,” I am having a few misgivings about stepping anywhere near the sunlight or the limelight either.

In my church, we always tell people to “Go in peace.” Go in peace. Wherever you are going, you should carry peace. Maybe there will even be peace at the other end. Sounds restful, doesn’t it? That gets into a whole new level of foreboding. The church may tell you to go in peace, but only your tombstone tells you to “Rest in peace.” I suppose the infamous “light” is also where all the peace is, which might explain why there does not seem to be much of it on the earthly plane. So, the goal is to “go in peace,” but not “rest in peace.” I cannot speak for anyone else, but whenever I go for quite some time without resting, I feel anything but peaceful. So, perhaps “go in peace” is not really on the table for me either.

While I may have avoided the paradoxical methods of exiting, there are many others that were simply unappealing for one reason or another. I have been told more than once to “go with a song in your heart.” Well, better a song than a murmur I suppose, but what if the song is something truly dreadful—like one of those “Five Dollar Foot-Long” Subway jingles? “Go forth with a skip in your step?” Perhaps that would work, as long as I’m not a soldier, a spy, an emergency room doctor, an ambassador, a…well, pretty much anything. “Move on to bigger and better things?” That one is both extremely insulting to the people or institution you just left and just plain impractical. I might well move on to a better thing that is much smaller; technology has been doing it for years. “Make like a tree and leaf?” In other words, hang around the same place for awhile and then fall spectacularly once my season is past? No, thank you.

I am becoming convinced that our disinclination to say goodbye to people has led us to fill the English language with phrases that convey to people who might leave us that going away is a terrible idea. I have yet to find a way to say goodbye that tells a person that you’re happy that they’re leaving without telling them that you’re happy that they’ll be gone. For now, I think the best way to leave someone may be to give them advice that they can really use in their future endeavors. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out” gets a bum rap, in my opinion. It truly is a danger with swinging doors; sometimes they just swing more than you think they would. A gentle reminder to people not to stop and converse right outside an office with a swinging door may be the best thing you can do for them. It’s time to reclaim that goodbye. So, Mount Holyoke has decided to kick me out after four years of my company, as they so often tend to do. Apparently, they are doing this to the entire class of 2010. In that case, when you say goodbye to your senior friends, don’t inadvertently curse them into oblivion. Instead give them something they can really use wherever they go: a reminder to stay alert and vigilant—at least when it comes to swinging doors.

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