This Must Be the Place

acknowledgements
Both literally and figuratively, I
would be nowhere without my
mom. When I began to write for
Duke’s newspaper, she diligently read
(most of ) my articles, and sometimes even
offered her own constructive criticism —
mostly that I abuse the em-dash to no
end, which is quite a fair judgement. I
can still remember how quietly horrified
she sounded on the phone when I
announced to her my freshman year that
I was playing with the idea of majoring
in English, and the urgency with which
she replied: “But, you can still go to law
school after that, right?” (She still thinks
I’d be a great lawyer or senator, which I
do not think is a fair — or accurate —
judgement. Me? In front of Congress?
An absolute shit show.)
I think she’s come around to
my hopeful future as a writer, and she’s
supportive to no end, even of my work
that is vulnerable and difficult and,
sometimes, about her. My mom will
always be the most important person
in my life, and I don’t know if I can
ever repay to her the lifetime of hope,
optimism, gentleness, and resilience
that’s she’s given to me. But with my
words and em-dashes, I’ll try.
I’m not sure if I can pay respects to
an entire newspaper, but I owe a great deal
of gratitude to The Chronicle — especially
Recess, the little arts and culture section
that so graciously embraced me during
my first semester at Duke and became my
closest semblance of home on campus.
And Recess, to me, is synonymous with
the people that worked (and continue to
work) so tirelessly to make it the shining
star that it is: my first editor, Dillon
Fernando; my current editor, Christy
Kuesel; my recruits, every single one
of them, who stuck around long after I
begged them to join; and, of course, Will
Atkinson, my creative partner, a brilliant
writer, an even better editor, and an even
better friend. Their relentless dedication
to Recess, their unparalleled talents, and
their enthusiasm make my heart swell
with pure love.
Miscellaneous thanks are also
owed to the creative masterminds behind
the Duke in New York: Arts + Media
program, namely Marianna Torgovnick,
Jeff Storer, and Jane Bradley. Professor
Torgovnick once quipped to me that I
“work on the edge,” and that assessment
was embarrassingly accurate enough to
implore me to break that bad habit of
pushing off my responsibilities until the
last possible moment. Well, not entirely
— they say relapse is a part of recovery —
but I’m on my way to becoming a more
motivated person, and by consequence,
hopefully, a more motivated writer.
My support system, both local —
Lindsay Manack and her beautiful cat
Artie — and global (literally) — Chloe
Starr, Olivia Simpson, Tyler Kopp,
Mitra Norowzi, Jess Lane, Jennifer
Zhou, my sisters Logan Brantley and
Pheiffer Wilder — are also deserving
of the highest praise. I’m grateful for
every phone call made and text message
sent, emotional breakdown endured
and hope shared. I’ve always mused
that my interpersonal relationships are
what make my life worth living, and
all of the aforementioned people are
proof of that. So: Thank you. Thank
you. Thank you!
Nina Wilder was thrust into existence
twenty years ago in Raleigh, North
Carolina — a city quite unlike New
York, but, to her, just as exciting.
She currently lives in Durham, N.C.,
where she attends Duke University
and majors in English. She’ll tell you
that she’d never leave the South, but
New York City has proven to be a
magnetic, albeit exhausting, locale
— perhaps she’ll be back among its
commotion one day, but for now, she’s
happy to eat all the barbeque and
corn bread she can. (New York, please
work on your glaring absence of edible
southern cuisine while she’s gone.)