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This week, I participated in Nittanyville with 60 people in my organization (we had six tents). It was my first time doing Nittanyville, and it ended up being a memorable experience (just like everybody says). After staying over on Tuesday night and ending up cold and wet thanks to the unexpected rain, I skipped out on Wednesday. I went back to Nittanyville on Thursday evening and got to spend time with a smaller group of friends. The Blue Band and football team came to get everybody excited, and in perhaps the best news of the night we received a Domino’s pizza from the football team and whoopee pies from James Franklin’s daughter. I left shortly afterwards to study, but turned around 15 minutes later when I learned that all of Nittanyville was to evacuate thanks to the thunder/lightning/impending flooding and I would be leaving 3 freshmen, 3 sophomores, and 1 very tired junior to clean up the belongings of all 60 of us. By the time I made it back to Gate A, they had already developed a system of organizing everything and cars were close to Beaver Stadium. Within 20 minutes of the call to evacuate, six cars from our organization had appeared at Beaver Stadium and about 25 people had congregated to assist. That was an incredible moment of pride and love—witnessing everybody instantly mobilize and do what they knew they needed to do, even when they had very different plans for the night.

The next moment was on Saturday while we were spending hours waiting for the game to begin. We convened at Gate A at 3:30, were not allowed into the stadium until 6, and the game did not start until 8. It was a long late afternoon/early evening. In preparation for those hours outside Gate A, one of my friends brought a deck of cards to the game. So a group of us sat down and played card games. It was absolutely ridiculous, but in the very best of ways. It was fantastic.

Of course, the ultimate moment of pride and love was in the fourth quarter. Thanks to Nittanyville we were in the sixth row, and that totally made the rainy frustration of the week worth it. We had sixth-row seats to the best game played in Beaver Stadium in recent memory, and were jumping up and down with excitement, and Penn State was playing incredibly well, and the stadium was electric. After the touchdown, I started to hear murmurs of “storm the field…” My friends and I: “please no. We don’t really want to.” But you all know what happened: we stormed the field. As the sixth row, we had no choice. The obnoxious guys behind us forced us forwards, and we were smooshed down between bleachers and between bodies. I had to crane my head up to breathe, I was screaming so everybody around me knew I was still there, and my friend and I kept shouting to one another “are you okay? Are you okay?” It was terrifying. I was so sure that I would receive a spinal cord injury, and that if that didn’t happen I would suffocate. It seemed impossible for me to escape without bodily injury. We were screaming “MOVE BACK,” to no avail. The pushing was coming from a mass of bodies above, and the only way to escape was to climb over the fence and onto the field. We got to the field and nearly burst into tears. We felt all the emotions.

That was the ultimate moment of pride and love: pride and love for my friends, because all three of us made it out of the stands safely. Pride and love for my organization and everybody who spent time at Gate A and helped us to get the sixth row. Pride and love for my school and the incredible feat we had just pulled off. And perhaps more than anything else, pride and love for my family. I am a third-generation Penn Stater and I have grown up with Penn State football Saturdays. I was trained from a young age that you watch religiously no matter how poorly the team is playing, because they always have a chance. And even if they don’t have a chance, that doesn’t matter. It’s not about skill or luck but honor and heart. I knew my parents were watching from home—I could picture the scene with our Penn State blanket and cowbell, and our relatively new addition of a Joe Paterno cardboard cut-out. I remembered watching the 2013 4OT win against Michigan with them, and could only imagine the feelings wrapped up in this win for my mom and dad. I was so grateful that I could be present for what will always be a game for the highlight reel and that I could carry on this family tradition.

Sometimes it’s hard to be third-generation Penn Stater and carry the memories, emotions, and legacy for my family. But I can’t imagine my life any other way, and it is weeks like this past one that remind me why eleven people in my family have chosen this school, why my parents want me to be involved with all the school spirit activities, and why this school has such a bonding and community atmosphere.