If, in an attempt to get to know Cadence Harvey, you walked a mile in her shoes, you would find yourself a mile away with a fresh pair of Air Force 1’s.
Rather than walking a mile in her shoes, however, I sat down with her outside of the closed midtown Strange Brew this past Thursday. I expected this to last no longer than 30 minutes, but when we eventually parted ways, it was two and a half hours after I initially sat down.
As we chatted, we saw a girl get pulled over, a dozen people wearing high school jerseys and cheer uniforms and discovered that the longest a college band can play without repeating a Kings of Leon song is 36 minutes. The band played the entire time we were there.
Cadence described herself as “uncontrollably empathetic.” I feel as though this can explain a lot. She cares very much about her family and calls home almost every day, even calling her dad three times in one day last week.
Her friends are very willing to help her out when needed, which I probably would have passed up mentioning if not for one of them letting each of us use their bathroom towards the end of the conversation (I did not know these people).
Cadence has a very vivid imagination, which would explain her creative writing minor and love for poetry.
Through hearing about her days, one of which she stated was “mostly miserable and uneventful and disturbed by a perpetual headache,” they reminded me a lot of my own school days. Struggling to wake up on time, get to class on time and eating food that legitimately only a college student could digest without suffering extreme gastrointestinal pain.
Cadence spent last week going to class, working on assignments, going to meetings and hanging out with friends. Among these were one class she slept through, one project she started on the day it was due, the final opinion meeting under editor Luke Copley and one friend’s couch she slept on.
As we spoke at a table outside of Strange Brew, the theme of a passion for human connection popped up. Cadence and I share a love for the way things are written, and we also are both fans of punk rock music, even if we do not like to talk about it.
This realized passion for human connection led me to walk away feeling a sense of peace. I left with the feeling that we are infinitely close to others around us even if we fail to realize it.
I encourage everyone to ask what your colleagues would do with their lives in different realities this week. You might find their reasoning behind being a contortionist in a circus enlightening enough to enjoy repeat performances of Kings of Leon.