For a while there, we weren't even sure Abbie had successfully submitted her application to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Oh, we remember her filling it out, and we remember proofreading her essays. But we also remember wondering, as we all often do in this day of on-line everything, whether clicking the Submit button actually did anything. Who's to say where all those bits of data end up, if they go anywhere at all. And when decision day had come and gone, and Abbie couldn't log in, and I couldn't find the application fee charge on our credit card statement, and we couldn't even find a confirmation email from UNC like we did for other schools, and the deadline for applying was long over, we feared the worst. The fates had conspired against us to miss a golden opportunity to raise a new Tarheel.
But then, there was a light. A flicker of hope at first. The excellent guy on the UNC support line told us we were using the wrong login email address to access the admissions website. (Why does Abbie need more than one email address?) And when we still couldn't log in, he explained that the system was having trouble signing people in, and we would probably have to wait until morning before it was fixed. And then he even called us back later and said that Abbie did indeed have an application on record, and that a decision had been made on her status. In fact, when we checked the correct email account, there it was, the confirmation email that her application had been received! At that point, whether she was accepted or not was overshadowed by the relief that we had at least successfully tried!
Then came the dawn, and with it, a working web site, and when Abbie logged in, we quickly and happily learned that despite our inability to remember usernames, passwords, and email addresses, UNC would accept our daughter into the Tarheel family (and likely sign her up for internet remediation courses right away.)
Ahh, the joy that filled this true-blue Tarheel's heart! Like her father before her, and her Uncle Billy and Aunt Laura, Abbie could, if she so chose, become the newest Martschenko to embrace the Carolina tradition of excellence, to wear the light blue proudly, to hate all things Duke, to pity all things State, to hear the bell tower ring the hour, to raise a cheer at Kenan Stadium or the Dean Dome, to walk the planks of Paul Green, to browse the aisles of Davis, and to know above all, that she was tarheel born, and tarheel bred . . . and so on.
And yet, I have mixed feelings. I really do. The Tarheel in me is proud, because I went to Carolina. The dad in me is concerned, because I went to Carolina. To turn a beautful girl loose amidst the overconfident wimps of frat row or the spoiled brats of Granville Towers makes my stomach turn. And the drama program there may not always select the kind of shows that you might find on the Disney channel. Do I believe Abbie can take care of herself? Mostly. But its the unmostly part that I worry about. Of course, I would worry about that regardless of where she went. It's just that I know Carolina too well, and my imagination would be working against me.
She is still awaiting word from BYU-Provo, BYU-Hawaii, and NYU. Getting accepted to Christy's alma mater, BYU, would force her to choose between mom and dad. However, oddly enough, her Tarheel dad would probably prefer she went to BYU (for the safety factor) while her Cougar mom would probably prefer she went to UNC (for the close to home factor.)
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, neither mom nor dad will make this call. Sure, we can offer advice and counsel, especially since we know both schools so well. And there are some who say, "Hey, the guy paying the tuition should make the call." But we're not like that as parents. Kids have to learn to make their own choices in life, and accept the consequences that follow. Our job is to be here to support them, whichever way they go -- and provide a little coaching along the way.
The good thing about all this is that for now, Abbie is still a senior in high school, and still in our household where we can hold on to her a bit longer. College is in the future, of that we're now certain. Where she goes, and how to deal with our missing her are things we can figure out later, and that we don't have to (and don't want to) think about just yet.
Nonetheless, congratulations, Abbie! You're on your way! We love you and we're proud of you!
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