The day before Thanksgiving I was working at the hospital, and while on break one of my coworkers went around the table and asked each person about a traditional dish that was always on their table for the big feast.
Common answers were cranberry sauce, homemade gravy, stuffing, and green bean casserole. I couldn't think of any food that would set myself apart, so the truth seemed like the only fitting response.
"Well, my grandmother always picks out bad wine for the toast."
Since my grandmother wouldn't let me cook anything for this year's meal, I decided I'd bring a couple bottles of my own choosing, that is, a bottle with an actual cork and not a screw top, and get a good laugh out of her on the way.
The thing is, when I go home to eat dinner with the family, dinner discussions frequently turn into The World versus Meghan. I'm the first grandchild to go to college, and unlike many of my relatives who stuck close to the community college scene, I flew the proverbial coop, even if it was only 35 miles.
Which of course means that I am now a "big-city," tree-hugging, whack-job liberal that has no clue what hard work is.
I believe that part of the goal of getting an education is learning about the world around you, not just assuming that people outside your town do things just the same as you.
In such a culturally diverse environment as UB, students have been given the opportunity to interact with people they wouldn't likely meet anywhere else and be exposed to viewpoints and beliefs not widely shared.
But that exposure is one of the most critical parts of growing into a well-rounded and educated citizen.
You can't expect an international business major to interact with students from a cookie-cutter mold during his academic career and then be a success in the real world when he faces a flurry of differences he's never seen before.
This example carries over into all facets of this campus. We're presented with countless chances to meet new people and try new things so that when some of us do go home to that town in the backwoods, we can try to keep an open mind.
Whenever I brave the short trip to my little town nestled between Buffalo and Rochester, I already know my family's automated response to any challenge I have that might back them into an intellectual corner.
"But Meghan, I'm sure you'll understand when you get older. There was a time in my life when I thought the same as you. But life experience will teach you differently."
That's my cue to clench my teeth and ball up my fists.
I know life experience deals various hands to various people, but what makes the difference is whether you choose to let it beat you down and become embittered, or if you choose to learn from it and move on.
In no way will I accept that superiority in age automatically translates into more wisdom and experience from hardship.
By falling back on the age argument, as many people in the older generation do, they only reveal the weakness of their viewpoint. They don't have any other reason for their position than the fact that they've existed a few more years.
Essentially, a number is what separates the right from the wrong in their eyes, and that is where the true colors of ignorance show.
This line of thinking in the workplace leads to a very dangerous ideology: "We've always done it that way, so that's the way we're always going to do it."
Sure, we can always learn something from our parents, families and elders, but something that also comes with age is a bit of stubbornness mixed with an unwillingness to see circumstances in a new light-something about which a great deal of young people are passionate.
With a respectful tone, our generation has to combat the senile thought processes of our elders. Learn what you can from them, but in no way should we resign ourselves to their viewpoints simply because they're more experienced.
