Penguins are among the most social of all animals; they live in large colonies, they feed, breed, nest, and winter together, and form life-long loving relationships throughout. Although we Quincy House Penguins cannot all claim to be speedy swimmers, frequent movie stars (Happy Feet anyone?), or exclusive breeding partners; like all penguins, we view our community as a family. Amidst these turbulent times, where us penguins have been temporarily separated from our home, all we can do is reflect on the beauty of our shared memories and joyfully remember Quincy House.
This is a celebration, and like any good friend, Quincy has brought me no less than three gifts. Quincy you gave me the gift of comfort — a gift that was carefully hidden, but always there. The feeling of comfort you’ve provided wasn’t found in the guaranteed n+1 housing for Juniors and Seniors, the spacious Stone Hall suites available to Sophomores, the cozy Qube library, or the collaborative workspaces and study nooks that line Stone Hall basement. It was hidden in the affectionate reminders of Greg, a HUDS employee, to pick up a banana before my 10:30AM class and a tender smile shared with Ana, a 19 year Quincy House HUDS employee, every night before dinner. I felt it in the safety and tranquility of my 6 minute commute to Emerson Hall and in the revelrous noises emanating from the balcony suite every Saturday night. I take comfort in knowing that I’m not responsible for the atrocious sounds of the Lowell bells every Sunday. Quincy, you selflessly reject the moniker “house,” in favor of the title “home,” and for that you are deeply loved and exceptionally deserving.
The second gift was unconditional friendship, which you allowed us to share. A friendship we found within the questionably painted walls of the largest dining hall, over banter at the ping pong and pool tables, while burnishing our mugs in the pottery studio, and in our incoherent 1:30AM conversations over milkshakes and mozz sticks at the Quincy Grille. It was you who provided us a central location on Harvard’s campus designed for meeting new people, running into friends cutting through the courtyard, and reuniting with old companions. You gave us an eclectic family of artists, athletes, and an uncanny number of Rhodes Scholars; but most importantly, you allowed for tenderness to become the defining feature of our community.
The third gift was imagination — the power to not only dreamily visualize, but to deeply feel. You gave us the most passionate and welcoming figures. Among them: the late Faculty Dean Deb Gehrke and her husband Lee, who tirelessly devoted themselves to fostering a spirited house environment governed by kindness and support. Through the loving spirit of Deb, which undoubtedly remains within the Quincy House gates, you allowed me to envision and experience how rapidly a house can become a home. Thank you for showing me what a home away from home ought to feel like.
I know that Harvard is a kinder, finer, and more welcoming space, because Quincy House exists. Quincy not only are you The People’s House, but you are the heart of Harvard’s campus.
*Inspired by Toni Morrison’s eulogy to James Baldwin
Image Credit: HPR / Tarun Timalsina
