OH GOOD heavens. It really is over, isn't it? I just started to type the second line of my byline - the one that in four years has morphed from "staff writer" through "sports editor" to the oh-so has-been "columnist" - and I realized I don't get a title anymore. This is the opinion page. In the graduation issue. It's time to go.
This is the place old and crotchety Cavalier Daily fourth years congregate every May to deliver their farewells to the University. Quite often, they attempt to impart some wisdom gained from their tenure here at The House Jefferson Built. They write things like "Academical Village" and "Wahoo-wah" and "make the most of your time at college."
I am qualified to do none of this. From the time I broke through the haze of first year and got comfortable at U.Va., a frighteningly large portion of my life was spent sitting in the basement of Newcomb Hall. When I wasn't there in body, I was there in spirit, peddling my journalistic wares at Kl