The Family of Things

Written by Ryan Mulrooney

Photography by Tori Tiso 

Sometimes I think about how I was out dancing the day Mary Oliver died. And, in retrospect, was it writer’s block that was pressing against the edges of my skull rather than vodka mixers? But who wouldn’t want to block out the idea that someone, somewhere, won’t think of you when you begin to drag your heels in the dust and shadows of 2 AM streetlights on your way to greet death with a meek “hello”? As exhausting as it is to lie in bed after a night of dancing and think of creating some sort of remembrance, it’s more exhausting to try and actually do it. That’s how my year with Illumination has felt. When I arrived at the Editor-in-Chief position last June, I felt like I had my head on my shoulders. The WUD office was quiet in the summer. There were no lines at Peet’s Coffee in the mornings. I could walk up the five flights of stairs and not feel defeated. I could be tucked away into an inner elbow of campus and not feel as if I were being overextended. Then, as I slowly sipped my black coffee, I found myself wanting to quit the job two times.I had almost 500 submissions to review. I had emails to which I needed to respond. I needed to learn how to hang artwork and curate a gallery. I needed to find out how to make the semester’s issue somehow better than the last and attend meetings to defend Illumination’s importance on campus and - and when do I breathe? Is that how someone can remember me? Do I need to give up going for runs and reading for fun and sleeping in and breathing all “to walk on my knees,” as Mary Oliver might say, in the name of someone remembering my name? There are enough Mulrooneys in this world. Heck, I did a Facebook search and there are at least 24 other Ryan Mulrooneys somewhere out amongst the 456 million daily status updates and returning robins who can somehow sneak through the radio waves. With all that chaos, it’s easy to misplace who we are, why we do what we do. I did. Maybe vodka mixers aren’t the most dangerous cocktails; rather, they are the pressures of being the ultimate advocate and leader for everyone but ourselves.Mary Oliver was lucky enough to be the Mary Oliver of nature, and finally I feel lucky enough to be the Ryan Mulrooney of Illumination. Having my signature on 1100 printed copies of my magazine is a lot to process. So is looking back on the published poems I can recite, the beer I had with the other Editors-in-Chief last week, and nervous excitement I felt unboxing the copies of my first print issue. I don’t plan on going dancing now that my tenure is over. I plan on going home not just carrying the new blue-hued issue of Illumination, but carrying a smile. Because somewhere, someday, the people I’ve met and befriended in this position might remember me when they’re out dancing and receive an alert on their phone that says: “There goes Ryan Mulrooney, announcing his place in the family of things.” They’ll stop and, slowly, feel the poems and love and world come back to them.