“This is the only country in the world that still worries about what it is. The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.”
-Neil Gaiman (American Gods)
Abington is a campus comfortable in its own skin. I don’t think I could tell anyone
what a campus finds its identity in, no one can in a few paragraphs. There are glimpses of it in the unexpected places though, the niches of typical life where routine meets originality. Everywhere has people, and they tend to come and go with predictable regularity. But it’s a place’s character that changes those people, either drowning them in malaise or igniting something that brings out the creator, the artist, and the poet.
I catch Abington’s character in the brusque humor of the amiable to their core lunch crew. It’s in the professor’s larger than life personalities and the fact that a campus made largely of city and suburban students somehow, impossibly works. It’s in the once musty smell of the Lion’s Den and melodies of eighties pop music emanating out from offices. For a campus surrounded by imperial culture from
every direction, Abington has managed to carve out something unique, independent, and alive.