Preserving our connections
By Keira Phillips
As we approached this print, Amelia and I began to discuss the best way to acknowledge Palatinate’s 900th issue. We knew we wanted this print to be a celebration of the paper, yet no theme was immediately apparent to us. Suspended in a vacuum of thought, we turned to the Palatinate archives in the hope that our epiphanies would come a term early and that we might be struck by an idea. As I looked through the archives, I watched the paper evolve through my screen: the ink became colour, new sections were accumulating, styles were changing and most importantly (whilst possibly biased), Indigo was introduced. Each contributor and editor left small vestiges of themselves, some of which permanently changed the paper for good. And so, it became clear that our theme would be legacy. As our editors and contributors began to turn their attention to legacies, I started to consider what my own might look like.
My reflections began whilst I was sat on the train home from London two weekends ago. I was passing by the same station I used to get off at for school, and I figured my train’s arrival at the station would overlap with the end of the school day. As I sank into my seat fearing the exodus of students, I caught myself wondering how I had become so apprehensive. I was twenty, prematurely afraid of some tweens and teens, no longer one of them. I suddenly realised how much I had changed since last being at that station. As expected, the platform was full of the familiar blue blazers and striped shirts which had once dressed me. The nostalgia became envy as I started to mourn this old life from which I had also been glad to depart. This paradox stumped me: how could I long for a life that no longer fit me? Just as I had grown out of my uniform, I had grown out of that life. Yet, I still missed it.
The nostalgia became envy as I started to mourn this old life from which I had also been glad to depart. This paradox stumped me: how could I long for a life that no longer fit me?
Thinking of legacy, I was able to answer this question. My envy was tied to a desire to stay connected to that place, just as I wished to stay connected to all the places that had shaped me. But as I thought about it more, I realised that a part of me does remain there, the remnants of myself left behind in the form of my legacy. In doing so, I have immortalised a part of myself. The person I was several years ago is still alive in that place through my contributions.
Legacies can be, but do not need to be loud. I don’t believe mine were, but there is a beautiful intimacy that comes with leaving a small legacy behind. A secret that you share between yourself and that place, a little bit of proof that you were and sort of still are there. Not everyone needs to know your name or what you did, as long as you know; that can be enough to sustain your connection.
I have recently been asking myself about the legacy I will leave behind in Durham. When spring term ended in first year, I didn’t feel as though I had yet given anything back. I did not owe anything to Durham, but it had already offered me so much. I became afraid that my existence would instantly be buried and that I would lose my connection to the place that had given me some of my best friends and experiences. I learnt of Palatinate before I came to Durham but only began to write for them in my second year and finally applied to be editor at the close of the last academic year. My plans to write for Indigo in first year had been thwarted by the hurdle of self-doubt, which I regretfully knew too well. I wish I had overcome that hurdle sooner because as I now step into the role of editor, I feel proud to be able to contribute to a paper full of legacies, and I hope that I too can create one for myself here.
In exchange for what Durham has gifted me, I gift Durham a small piece of myself represented through Indigo
Summer has rapidly swung into autumn, and somehow an embryonic idea that began in July has now materialised. The reward of seeing yours and your peers’ work in physical form is why I urge all readers to contribute, not as a desperate plea for writers but a genuine belief in the value of what you can say. Thousands of legacies have been left behind in Durham, some of which are evidenced through the archives. Each person featured in the paper has marked a small place for themselves in the university’s vast history, and I hope I can do the same. In exchange for what Durham has gifted me, I gift Durham a small piece of myself represented through Indigo.
Image: Suzie Blackman via Unsplash
