One Man's Ceiling is Another Man's Floor

When I was in the fifth grade, my school principal met Hillary Clinton. I'm not quite sure of the specifics, but the rendez-vous is the key takeaway. The day she returned, I saw her on the lawn during lunch recess. Ever since we had both dressed up as Dorothy for Halloween (twinsies!!), she and I were pretty good friends (insert joke about the beginnings of my bond with teacher-types that would eventually blossom into my emailing interesting articles to professors). I sprinted towards her. Did you meet Mrs. Clinton?! I chirped excitedly. Mrs. Barrett flashed a smile and stuck out her right hand. I shook her hand with this hand. Do you want to touch it? I was in disbelief; I was about to touch the very hand that had touched Hillary Clinton! I haven't washed it since I shook her hand! She said with a grin. Really? I asked. This is why children are so naive -- You adults just take us for a ride! But, I digress.

As a recent college graduate, I am obviously feeling very nostalgic. And though I have washed my hands many many times over the last four years, I will still be able to cherish the memories in other ways. Having attended a college 2,916 miles away from home at a time when checking in a suitcase may cost more than the total worth of its contents, packing up my room was the most difficult exam I've ever had to take. Format? Multiple choice. For each item I chose the best answer:

a. Useless - dispose

b. Salvageable - donate

c. Replaceable - dispose & purchase on the flip side

d. Sentimental - wear it, stuff it in your underwear, give it your plane ticket...

Don't tell my mother, but I disposed of items that were pretty valuable money-wise. A printer (by the world leader, HP), for example.

While she was "helping" me, my mom pulled out a frayed tshirt from my already-packed suitcase (we're a really productive team). Why are you taking this back. Please, throw it away. She said in her conclusive tone. No, I need that. Throw away that stationary. I offered. No, you can use it. What are you going to do with this shirt? Technically, she was right. There was nothing I could do with that tshirt. It was small and old and probably should not see the light of day. But it was a shirt from my freshman year dance show. It was a memory. Clearly it had experienced one too many trips through the crappy dorm washing machines, but it had a lifetime of memories associated with it.

In psychology, the endowment effect explains how people place a higher value on objects they own than objects that they do not. Prized possession to me, trash to my mom.

For a school-sponsored event during our last week of college, Class Board sold $5 bright-yellow tshirts with a cheeky phrase based off Sesame Street. Cookie Monster, Big Bird, the gang's all there. We all complained, but we also all bought it. And wore it proud. It was a bonding experience, walking around Center City and stopping to talk to yellow-shirt clad strangers. And that shirt, cut up and stained, never to be worn again, beat out my printer.

A lot of things sound good (valuable) on paper. A printer, a salary, acceptance to Harvard, an offer from Teach for America. But unless you care about it, unless you have an innate passion, it is meaningless to you. And quite frankly, a waste of time and effort.

At a final round interview, I was given a tshirt with the company logo. A couple weeks later, I found myself deciding between two offers, and as a test, I wore it to a rehearsal and late into the evening. It was when I pointed to the tshirt to a friend across the room that I realized I had made the right decision. A free tshirt told me that.

As you go through life, follow the yellow brick road. Just make sure it's the road that you've paved for yourself. Find meaning in every step. In the end, what to your neighbor could just be a pair of red shoes, to you, could be the only ticket home.