Eagle's Perch by Ernie Stanley

Surrounded by fuzzy trees, perched above 100 yards symbolizing American tradition I discussed with my friend just why someone would be where I was then. Oddly, and though unconnected in motive, I found myself fulfilling a campus search for a sacred place (though to me it was quite profane) and why such a place would be considered such. From my high chair I knew why this place was built, and immediately gained a sense as to why such a place would be appropriate. Up there, where I was, I could see quite far and quite well.

Potomac River hall was to the right, a symbolic representation of one man’s vision, a big sibling to the York River hall, appearing nearly identical, but not quite so. James River shadowed Santoro, not much more than a modernist collage of undecorated lit windows stood before us, bland and bleak though stirring memories of light-bright and other childhood toys. And past the fields, past the imminent residence halls I stared down the entirety of University Place, even past Warwick. The beaming street lights which decorated the road cast my gaze. This was realization - I could locate nearly every building and every piece of campus peaking into the sky. This was clearly the eagle’s perch.

And then the marvel ceased suddenly, overcome with the epiphany that the tracks of light which streaked the sky over campus hid things far more beautiful than manicured bushes and village architecture. The stars were nearly invisible over campus. This astounded me, despite all the books, the academia and learning resources, there was no hope of anyone seriously studying the sky or any part of nature. Seeking them I turned, scanning the surrounding area. Stars were there, a few at least, but for the most part masked by the pollution of thousands and thousands of lights. And as I searched for the sky, I realized that CNU’s campus was the biggest polluter of them all. What did surrounding community feel, so dark compared to this abomination of lights and noise? How they must dislike the vision of the one who brought such light and noise to this section of the world and masked their sky?

I realized that I could not possibly fathom the amount of responsibility of the man whose position I know occupied, and though the view radiated power I knew I was not supposed to be where I now sat. In fact where I sat probably should not be a seat at all. And so with somewhat of an empathetic realization I left the President’s Box.