Upon arriving in the Northeast to go to Yale I was struck, and I continue to be struck, by the diversity of the population. Rarely do two Northeasterners look alike, act alike or think alike and each tends to be staunch in his or her opinion. As far as I can tell, disagreement is very much the modus operandi of the area.
There are, however, two beliefs most Northeasterners appear to agree upon. The first is that few places in America, with the possible exception of California, are as worthwhile or provide as many opportunities as the Northeast.
The second is much more profound and transcends race, religion and wealth. It is the belief that, when the leaves change in autumn, it is the single greatest thing that has ever occurred in the history of the world, since the beginning of time forever. The changing leaves make weddings look like child’s play. They make the Allied victory in World War II look like it wasn’t yellow, orange and maroon enough. And it makes the creation of the world look like a joke. Oh, hey Genesis, that’s really neat that you lasted seven days. The leaves change for up to three weeks.
To Northeasterners, you are indeed a damn idiot if you do not think the leaves changing is God annually apologizing for the brevity of Genesis. It’s the sort of beauty on which festivals, family vacations, proposals and late-night muggings on the New Haven Green are built, and you would be foolish to not be enamored of it.
Which brings me to my next point: I must be a fool, because I personally don’t think the changing of the leaves is very impressive. This may be because I’m from Northern Colorado and grew up with giant snow-capped peaks in my backyard, but there’s something about a bunch of leaves transitioning to death that doesn’t strike my fancy. To me, the changing leaves signal the arrival of cold, depressing Northeast winters, and the coinciding nice weather is only nice because it’s so awful the rest of the year.
I frequently ask myself the question: Are Northeasterners so invested in their jobs and personal lives that vegetation dying en masse is their solitary relief? Don’t get me wrong: Leaves turning different colors are pretty, but they’re not that pretty.
Thus, in an effort to expose Yale to parts of the country where there are a lot more things to be excited about than leaves changing color, I propose a relocation. I don’t think it would hurt if we moved Yale somewhere new and I think our university could greatly benefit from immersing itself into territory hitherto untouched by the Ivy League. For these reasons and many more, I think Yale should be moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Now, I understand that a move might not be rational, especially when it’s to Cheyenne. But once in Wyoming, I think Yalies will be pleased to find it has much in common with New Haven, with the notable absence of piercing, humid cold and long, unpleasant winters.
For example, the residents of both cities love guns, and are not afraid to shoot them in the street. This means that, with Cheyenne’s gun-to-human ratio of 16:1, any discharging of 12 shots on Cheyenne’s equivalent of York Street would be met with stiff resistance from the heavily-armed local militias, thus resulting in increased safety for Yale students and decreased instances of violence in areas surrounding campus.
It would also result in a good ol’-fashioned Wild West shootout, which would be really neat for Yale kids to watch.
Moreover, I’m confident that relocating to Cheyenne would breathe new life into Yale athletics. Not only would our football team have stiff competition from a number of high school teams in the area, but our squash team would finally be the number one team in its home state, since squash doesn’t exist in Wyoming.
Cheyenne is also home to the world’s largest rodeo, Frontier Days, and would be an ideal setting for the fledgling Yale School of Rodeo Management to really steer its otherwise lacking graduate programs in the right direction. Graduates of the University of Wyoming — our new rival — would no longer dominate the management side of professional bullriding with their “home-grown knowledge” and “passion for ropin’.” Instead, the pro rodeo circuit would be Ivy League territory.
Most importantly, though, Wyoming would provide Yale with stunning natural beauty and all the coal and petroleum it needs to keep climbing in the international rankings of Gross Domestic Product. New Haven and Cheyenne really do have a lot they could learn from each other.
Most residents of Wyoming could, admittedly, benefit from an influx of well-educated, internationally-minded students, and those students could in turn benefit from spending time in just one of many parts of the country that is frequently ignored by Northeasterners, who are so obsessed with the Northeast and its changing leaves that they forget about the rest of America.
Much has been said, and rightfully so, about a large divide between fly-over country and, in particular, the Northeast. People from fly-over country can’t fathom why leaves are so exciting, and people from the Northeast can’t fathom why people from fly-over country think the way they think. Frankly, there’s a lot to be said for both sides, and Yale relocating itself would be a solid step towards bridging a needless gap.
Also, intramural calf wrangling would be an additional bonus of moving to Wyoming.