I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve eaten oysters in my life, mostly because my mom is allergic to them, but a couple of weeks ago, I found myself eating an exorbitant amount of them with some college friends because of a 75-cent deal. There I was with my friends, ecstatically ordering oyster after oyster and laughing away, thinking, will life always be like this?
Change has always been something that intimidates me. For almost four years, I called the corner of 33rd and Charles Street home. It was a constant in my life throughout my years of undergrad, from the moment I moved into Charles Commons my freshman year to the moment I graduated and packed up my apartment across the street in Nine East 33rd. It’s surreal to think that the roughly 400 feet spanning the block between Charles and St. Paul Street played a pivotal role in my formative years — from my uncertainty moving in at 18 to my years of lived experience by 22.
While deciding where to live during my master’s program at the Bloomberg School of Public Health, I felt stuck at a crossroads. On the one hand, Charles Village provided the comfort and familiarity that I already knew, and my friends in the years below me would still be living there. On the other hand, Fells Point was a neighborhood that always attracted me, and the commute to school would be quicker and more convenient.
Moving to Fells Point was daunting at first, but it’s the best decision I could have made. I have always been someone who feels safe with familiarity, and knowing the ins and outs of Charles Village kept me at ease, but little did I know, it kept me away from the possibility of experiencing new beginnings.
I feared that by moving to Fells, I’d be losing all of my experiences in Charles Village — in reality, I was just expanding my horizons.
Since graduating college, I find myself nostalgic for the way things used to be. Many of my friends are now sprawled out in different cities across the country, and even if I were to stay in Charles Village, it wouldn’t be the same as it once was. While staying here in Baltimore provides the comfort of already knowing the city, I feel a wistful longing when I revisit places that I had first discovered with friends who now live thousands of miles away. Every time I go to The Charmery, for example, I’m reminded of the friendships I formed while venturing into Hampden and exploring shops on The Avenue during my freshman year.
I’ve come to learn that missing old experiences is not a weakness, rather a testament to the happiness I felt in those moments. I now realize that our experiences don’t just get erased because we move to a new neighborhood or to a new city, rather we learn to cope with our new realities and manage friendships that transcend distance.
I feared that by moving to Fells Point, I’d be isolating myself from my friends still at Hopkins, but it’s truly quite the opposite. Now that I live farther from campus, I need to be much more intentional about the plans I make, which requires me to think ahead and reach out proactively to the people I care about.
While I’m still here in the same city, I need to appreciate that change takes time, whether that’s adjusting to a new neighborhood, meeting new friends in graduate school, or merely getting accustomed to a different post-grad schedule.
While change can be scary, there is beauty in new beginnings, as it gives us opportunities to explore new places and meet new people. At the same time, making room for the new does not mean sacrificing the old.
This year, I’ve loved exploring everything that Fells Point has to offer, whether that means going for a run along the water before class, heading to the Saturday farmer’s market or Pitango Bakery and Café, or checking out neighborhood events, like the Ravens watch parties at Max’s Taphouse or the Fells Point Fun Festival. At the same time, I still enjoy coming back to the Homewood Campus every once in a while and hanging out with my friends there. And further, I can’t wait to be reunited with more friends during alumni weekend.
Part of life is recognizing how change is integral to the learning process, and that change is needed for us to grow. Our lives are filled with new experiences and adventures. The world is your oyster, both literally and metaphorically. Oysters, to me, represent the unfamiliar. When I first tried them, I didn’t think I’d like them, but the 75-cent deal enticed me, and next thing I knew, I was ordering more and more while laughing at the table with my friends. In this same regard, there is so much uncertainty and fear when we put ourselves out there, whether that’s by trying a new food or moving to a new neighborhood, but we can’t enjoy new experiences without taking some sort of risk.
I think about my earlier question, “Will life always be like this?” and the answer is both yes and no. Yes, I’ll always be laughing around a table with my friends; and no, life is not constant, we don’t know where we will end up next and we need to be open to change. What’s important is keeping our loved ones close to us and embracing the unpredictable possibilities around us. From Charles Village to Fells Point, the world is our oyster.
Gabriel Lesser is a graduate student from Westchester, N. Y. in the Department of Mental Health at the Bloomberg School of Public Health. His column explores his memories along with his current reflections and the lessons that he has learned.
