In between family gatherings and hours on the couch, I experienced a rude awakening during break: I am not very brave.
This realization happened as I walked down memory lane at my high school during a benefit concert for my best friend.
Many of my high school friends enjoy nostalgic trips back to our old stomping grounds to visit teachers and walk the halls again. I enjoyed my four years there, but I tend to avoid the building. I'm more of a look-forward kind of person.
But the benefit concert drew me back in during the last week of break and I had some moments of reflection while sitting in my old auditorium.
During my senior year of high school, my best friend was diagnosed with a neurological disease called Friedreich's ataxia, a rare condition without cure that usually puts sufferers in a wheelchair by age 25. My friend is 22.
My friend and I spent years in the school orchestra together and she hoped to pursue a career as a cellist until her disease made it impossible for her to play. Friedreich's ataxia brought orchestra alumni, family and friends to the auditorium during break to pay homage to the five-year struggle my friend has endured and to raise money for research on the disease.
As people spoke about my friend's courage and heart, I realized my friend and her family had sacrificed once again by allowing us to put a face to the disease in an effort to raise awareness. And I wished I possessed that type of bravery.
Every week, I write a column about something that is important to me or about news that affects many people or about an issue I feel people should know about. It's not easy taking personal experiences and opinions and making them informative and interesting for Penn State students. It's also not easy making myself vulnerable to criticism. But it's an important platform of every newspaper to allow columnists the space to express their opinions to encourage discussion and debate.
My personal thoughts and feelings emerge as I write, which is an unusual change from typical journalism that requires only the facts and no opinion. But I have the chance to filter my work and to tell the readers only what I want to reveal about myself.
During the concert, my friend's most difficult struggle was laid before an entire audience. She chose not to speak at the event and sat with her family instead. But as I held her arm during the after party while she greeted people, I was taken aback by her ability to speak candidly about something that hurts her greatly.
During the past five years, she has faced this struggle with fury. She was always infuriatingly stubborn, a trait that has served her well on bad days. The concert was a reminder of how many people admire and love my friend. She was honored for her willingness to reveal publicly how Friedreich's ataxia has touched her life and family.
If I were in the same position, I don't know if I would be able to have the same courage she has. I can only use my friend as an example of what I would like to strive for.
Jessica Turnbull is a senior majoring in journalism and is the Daily Collegian's Wednesday columnist. Her email is jlt5044@psu.edu.
