near the edge

Dear fellow students,

I, being of unsound mind and body, do hereby bequeath my column to the faithful Near the Edge readers. The few, the proud, the completely disturbed.

As its sole neurotic inheritants, you are responsible for doing a little tap jig, while pumped up on coffee every time you are stressed beyond belief about the Fig banana picture. I'm sorry I won't be there to join the party. Alas, I've gone over the edge.

Now with much ado, I unveil the 1995 last will and testament to the University of Arizona, may it rest in peace.

To Snow Heinrich, the nice woman at the Fig's ice cream stand, I leave a gallon of green tea to give to your worst enemy.

To Professor Jespersen, one of the few real educators I've had, who incidentally left the UA because he couldn't get tenure, I leave my undivided attention.

To the regents, I leave a conscience.

To the provost, I leave a degree of mercy and an Arizona Daily Wildcat to read during the next round of student speeches before the regents. Last time, you read the Tucson Weekly. For shame.

To Chris Alexander, English junior and coffee aficionado, I leave my coveted Denny's mug.

To Chris Richards, I leave a big photo opportunity and my highest professional respect, for what it's worth.

To Michelle Roberts, I leave a pound of chocolate-covered espresso beans and the courage to strike out on your own. And as you know, lurking in every person is a great feature story.

To Jon Burstein, I leave a big fat pastrami on rye sandwich with provolone and a little dark mustard on the side. A lovely companion for your arm. You've made us all laugh for four memorable years, even if you don't have a second "n" in your name. Thank you.

To Mike Low, I leave my entire Student Union silverware collection.

To Melissa Prentice and Amanda Hunt, reporters extraordinare, I leave my Groucho Marx glasses, because you have to have a sense of humor to write all those dull admin. stories and hobnob with administrators.

To Professor Jacqueline Sharkey, I leave a red pen. Your grading made me bleed, and infinitely better.

To the administrative assistant in the Arts and Sciences office, I leave my deepest gratitude for signing all my late drop/add slips.

To David Williams, mentor/professor/friend, I leave you a parting gift of a year's supply of Rice-a-Ronit, a forwarding address and some rambling letters

scrawled on coffeeshop napkins.

To my residents, I leave my neuroses.

To Stu, I leave a clocktower key and ten rounds.

To Parking and Transportation, I leave some restraint and a good PR firm.

To my existential muses, TJ, Sarabeth, Ed and Todd, I leave some relief from the incompetent, incognitive and incontinent.

To righteous Rev. Vegas, I leave my Ferling etudes and my envy. Rock on.

In conclusion, I leave the students of the University of Arizona my hope for a better place to go to school in the future. Nobody will be on your side, but they'll sure take your money and form a committee. Only you can demand better teaching, only you can make college memorable.

And to my fearless sidekick and editor, Greg D'Avis, I leave the last word.

Soon after finishing this, her final column, Laura Ingalls danced off into the sunset, singing "Born Free." Unfortunately, she was then hit by a bus.

That's what she gets for calling me her "sidekick." Hah.

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