I began my two years living in East Quad just as Zaragon Place was opening. Passing the new tower on my way to the Diag, I distinctly remember looking at those shiny new apartments and wishing that I had the money and the freedom (U-M’s Residential College requires two years of living in EQ) to live in that castle of luxury. Those feelings have no doubt been echoed by other students over the past few years, as high-rise housing has multiplied around campus—the Landmark nearby on South U and Sterling 411 Lofts on Washington are being joined in fall 2013 by the Varsity, next door to Sterling, and Zaragon West nearby on William.
Weekly deals that spam our inboxes and flyers shoved under dorm room doors advertise grocery stores, coffee shops, fitness centers, pool tables, panoramic views, flat screen HDTVs, and tanning beds (yes, 411 Lofts actually offers in-house tanning beds). It’s becoming harder and harder to resist the glow of convenience and technology. Even EQ is changing with the times, undergoing its first major renovations since opening in 1940 (finally, air conditioning!). It will also have a new café and, according to popular student rumor, an ice cream parlor (but, sadly, no tanning beds).
I’ll be the first to admit that change is good. Still, charm and history deserve a fighting chance.
Whenever an email from Zaragon or 411 pops into my inbox, I find myself thinking about EQ’s imperfections. For example, the showerheads never came above my own head, the water was rarely warm, and when it was, it didn’t stay that way for long. But would I have traded that in for an apartment upgrade? When you’re standing in a cold shower, the answer is always yes, in a heartbeat. Now … well, it’s complicated. But mostly? Definitely not.
When East Quad closed down for renovations last year, it went out with an event known as East Quad Palooza. There was bingo; there was dancing; there was cake. But the most significant event was a gathering in Greene Lounge, where current students and people who had lived in EQ decades ago got together to share their memories. The love that everyone had for that building, and the community that it fostered, was remarkable. I went back to my room with newfound appreciation. I walked past the hallway that I had traipsed along a dozen times at 3 a.m. after staying up way too late talking to friends. I stopped by the library, which I had helped transform every year into the book co-op’s Harry Potter–themed Yule Ball. I headed down the hallways where I studied nervously for German proficiency with the rest of my class, and where I ran down to the food hall because I needed mozzarella sticks before the café closed at midnight, and where dozens of other little things had happened that transitioned me, without even realizing it, into a college student/sort-of-adult. I don’t think the new apartment buildings will offer that sense of community and belonging. Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure they’re great. But if Zaragon renovates in 70 years will there be such a fond and emotional celebration?
There’s something to be said about living in the dorms. It’s probably the only time in your life when all of your friends will be at your fingertips, and there’s a magic to knowing that you’re following in the footsteps of decades of U-M students who got through the same life-ending problems you are. For better or worse, uncomfortably hot nights with freezing cold showers have left an East Quad–shaped hole in my heart. To anyone facing an apartment vs. dorms decision, all I can say is that the U-M dorms gave me an adventure that nothing else would have, and I’m forever grateful for that. That, and I now know how to properly appreciate a warm shower every now and again.
