Memoir of an Anthropology Student ANTH 101 –Richard Buonforte Heather DeMille January 9, 2019
1 Memoir of an Anthropology StudentI feel the warmth of Homer beneath me and I smell his sweat from the hour of galloping we’d just finished. I notice his red-furred ears lean back on his head, listening for me to click my tongue –his cue to take off galloping again. I smile. This horse sure loves to run; so eager to hear that click. We are well matched –both of us eager to feel the rhythm of his strides that fly us through the fragrant evergreen trees and moss that surround us. Right now, however, we are walking as we reach the crest of the hill and gaze out over the power lines, one of the few places in my world not blanketed in evergreens. Wrapping my legs around his warm belly, I protect my bare feet from the chill in the air. Oh, how I love Homer! I love riding out here - away from school, homework and my messy room. I think best when I’m riding. My head is clear. My heart beats steady and I breath deep, then sigh with contentment. The worries of mistakes I’ve made, AP tests I need to take, my impending graduation from high school and having to leave my boyfriend behind when I leave for college –all fade away in this moment –this “eternal present”.1These daily moments make me the relaxed, easy-going person my friends say I am. The sound of Homer breathing pulls me from my thoughts, as I tug on one rein, guiding him onto the trail that leads home.Time passes. I arrive at my Heritage Halls apartment after the 16-hour drive from Washington. My parents are helping me move in when we hear a knock on the door. Opening the door, I greet a stranger who walks in and introduces himself as my new bishop and asks for my name. I answer, “Heather Berry” and he starts looking for the name on his scroll. My parents look concerned, and I hold my breath, when he can’t find it. Am I not supposed to be here? My Caucasian face turns beet red when the bishop looks confused as he finally spots my photo next to
2 the name “Heather Satow”. I fight the urge to go hide in the bathroom as I hear my parents explain to the bishop that I must have accidentally given Heritage Halls my Asian boyfriend’s last name! I breath again, as my bishop politelychanges the subject and finishes welcoming me to the ward, then departs. My parents and I finish unpacking and I feel my chest tighten when I give them one last hug. They shut the door behind them, leaving me alone for the first time at college - I feel giddy and nervous, but ready. I press my lips together, remembering how determined I have been since second grade. I never considered any other college; I was going to make it into BYU. Here I am!I live the college life, eating Lucky Charms for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I run across campus to make it to class on time. I bury my head under my pillow - trying to block out the sound of my roommate vacuuming our apartment at 2 a.m.