On this wonderful website, filled with pointless photos and other useless information, some of The Drew Acron Staff would like to commemorate a very important person: Fergus.
Fergus is the light post in the Sitterly parking lot that was flickering for the entirety of the semester up until last week. For a semester and a half, he stood at his post offering students mediocre lighting until he was abruptly fired by his superiors.
Despite his lackluster ability to light the parking lot, he had a fantastic personality and became very good friends with many of the night owls inhabiting the Sitterly parking lot. My silver Tucson has been absolutely heartbroken since the news of his departure was announced.
Some conspiracy theorists—like our very own Teddy Droar—believe something more nefarious could be afoot here.
“Light posts don’t magically get replaced,” Droar said. “Someone must have replaced it.”
This vital point by Droar forced a closer look into the disappearance of Fergus. It would seem he has not been home since his departure from Drew.
We suspect that he will not be returning any time soon, so we wanted to commemorate some of the most inspirational advice Fergus has enlightened us with.
“There is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.”
“There are two ways of spreading light; be the light post or the mirror that reflects it.”
“As you work to create light for others, you naturally light your own way.”
“Everyone is a light post in their own way and the light they bring into the world is beautiful, irreplaceable and needed, even when it falters.”
Since flickering lights are a sign of danger in horror movies, the sight of one can freak people out. So, we asked Fergus why he decided to keep blinking despite giving people the creeps. He said, “I love light because it shows the way, but I also love the darkness because it shows me the stars.”
Every night, Fergus would allow students to appreciate the light and the darkness. He was a beacon, a lighthouse to our sea of cars, a guide to the right direction, a sense of home. We miss him dearly and hope that he returns to the Commuter Parking Lot soon. We are worried about his sudden disappearance and hope that he comes back to visit and give us reassurance once more.
I Don’t Know & I Don’t Care do not exist.