Jun Reiss Remarks

When I first arrived on campus I didn’t bring much. I had a good amount of clothes, some instant ramen, and absolutely nothing on my walls. I have the current residents of my suite to thank for having a more updated sense of interior design, but, at the very least, I had the common sense to do some shopping for school supplies.

I went to the campus bookstore, and realized I didn’t have any pens or pencils. Being a nervous freshman, I went into the campus bookstore, blacked out, and left with a box of 500 pens. Being my parents’ son, I had to go back and make sure I had, in fact, found the best deal.

As my first year went on, I was intentionally careless with these pens as I thought there was no way I was going to use them all. If I couldn’t find the pen I was using earlier, I wouldn’t bother to look for it and go grab another. I would lend pens to classmates and not bother to collect them. Hank — still waiting on that pen! These pens moved with me from Glenview from my first year, to Coop my sophomore year, and eventually to Saunders my junior year.

My junior fall, I started to realize that I was running low on pens. Imagine how stupid I felt being so loose with them the past couple years. I began to conserve the pens, using them sparingly. Buying pens before the end of college was certainly not an option. So quickly, my value of the pens had changed.

At the beginning of my senior year, I began to unpack the boxes I left in storage during my time spent abroad. In every single box I found these pens! Suddenly, I felt as though I would certainly have enough to make it through the end of the year, but I had learned my lesson. Each pen was vital.
So at this point, you're likely thinking this guy is weirdly obsessed with pens. Pen guy over here, who decided that he should speak?

These pens were how I experienced the individual days of the past four years here at Hamilton College. My first year it felt like I had all the time in the world. I couldn’t wait for the next day to come, when times were good and when they were less so.

Come my junior fall, I began to feel like graduation was knocking at my door. I couldn’t believe where the time had gone.

Then this past year began, and I realized I had more time than I thought. But rather than intentionally losing track of the days, and the pens, I began to hold onto them tight, before letting each one go for the next.

Then the other day, I reached into the box, and pulled out the last pen that I have here now. 
So, over the course of these four years, what did I learn? What changed so that I began to savor each and every day? Of course, it is the very first thing I was ever told on campus: Be Here Now.

Be Here Now is the mantra of every student’s introduction to Hamilton. We are asked for one week to forgo society and step into the wilderness. Being from Brooklyn, that was not a familiar nor exciting idea. But I was lucky; I was able to Be Here Now, and I was fortunate to meet my best friend. 
But just like comfort on these orientation trips, being present, both physically and mentally, is a privilege.

So to be explicit, I want to take an extra moment to celebrate students of color, low-income students, queer students, and those who moved to Clinton, New York, and did everything they could to Be Here Now.

I want to take another moment for anyone who has family who couldn’t make it here today because of ICE, genocide, and/or the Trump administration’s policy, those of us who are doing their best to Be Here Now.

And finally, for all of us whose parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents made sacrifices so that we could Be Here Now.

I want to take a quick second to thank the people who allowed me to Be Here Now. Dr. Koboul E. Mansour, the DMC and its fellows and organizations: Without all of you, I certainly would not Be Here Now. And Marjorie Hurley, Emily Girard, and everyone at the Wellin Museum, the Sociology and Philosophy departments, Travis Hill, Lisa Grimes, the members of Milbank 36, and, most importantly, my parents and my brother: Thank you all. 

And, so here it is, the last pen from my box. It represents four years of academic work, the most incredible communities, and trying to know myself. Much like me today, it is one out of 500.

And, this has become a special pen, it certainly has gotten more airtime than any other writing utensil I have ever seen, unless Anna decides to talk about a highlighter for 6 minutes. But this pen marks not only the last day of my four years at Hamilton College but also all the pens and memories I have lost along the way.

But, I’m gonna throw this pen into the crowd right now. I am trusting that if I do, the Hamilton College Class of 2026 will hold onto it tight, remember today, and strive each day to Be Here Now.