Just a phone call
Associate Sports Editor
Moving in this year should have been the same as always. I came a week early, my mom helped me set up my room, I spent about 30 hours in the basement of South Dining Hall working on the Frosh-O paper and I wrapped up my first week back with a house party complete with three kegs. Sounds about normal. But something just isn't quite the same this year.
Two years ago, as an incoming freshman, I helped move my older sister into 249 LeMans Hall — a room that looked like a mansion to me after moving into my modest double in McCandless. A week and a half ago I moved myself into 249 LeMans, to begin my residence in the exact same room Molly lived in her junior year here at Saint Mary's. Life has a funny way of working like that. After I moved in and recovered from carrying all the stuff I brought with me from home, I headed over to The Observer — alone.
For the first time ever, I'm at school without my big sister. Sure I spent two years in grade school as the only McVoy while she was at high school and two years in high school while she was away, but that was different. After school was over, I went home. And for my first two years here at Saint Mary's, whenever I needed a taste of Cleveland I stopped over to visit Molly and her extensive collection of Cleveland Indian's paraphernalia. But now where do I go for a touch of home?
Saturday night when the roommates and I were looking for a good party, I couldn't call over to Molly and ask her what she and her friends were up to. We were on our own for the first time. And I know my roommates will miss a good night out with Molly. For two years I've been greeted at this paper as Little McV. But now — I'm the only McV. The best sister team to ever grace The Observer is now down to just one member. And that makes me a little sad.
Three weeks ago Molly left for medical school in Cincinnati — four hours away from the booming metropolis of South Bend. Two weeks ago I drove down to Cincinnati to see her get her white coat, symbolizing that eventually she'll be saving lives. But the thing is — she already has.
For 20 years I've found a lifesaver in her. She's always been there to go to when I needed help with my chemistry homework, to complain about my roommates, or to ask why he didn't call. And she's always had the right answers: "helium is the lightest element," "they didn't lock the door because they hate you" and "he didn't call because he doesn't know what I know — that you're great."
Now it's a little different. I find myself sounding a lot like my mom these days — Molly's just growing up too fast. Saint Mary's feels just a little less like home because she's not here. But Thursday night around 11, when I'd been at the paper far too long and was probably threatening to go play in traffic, my lifesaver found me one more time. An off — campus call at the sports desk for me — it was Molly calling to see how I was doing. And despite the fact that she's hundreds of miles away, that night reminded me of something — she's always only a phone call away.
All Inside Stories for Wednesday, August 29, 2001