Essay: The Loyola Clone Theory

A new semester presents an abundance of potential relationships — new friends, old friends, academic rivals, lab partners. These relationships are expected, but what many students are shocked to be confronted by is the appearance of hometown faces in a far-off place.

For the many students enrolled from out of state, this scenario seems especially absurd. When the faces from high schools and hometowns suddenly surface on Loyola’s East Quad, what’s one to make of it? Delusion, homesickness or genetics?

While this phenomenon can be jarring for students of all ages, first-years are often more conscious of it.  First-year advertising and public relations major Sydney Craig said since moving to Loyola from Seattle she’s noticed herself mistakenly recognizing people from her hometown on campus.

“I feel like I keep seeing people around campus that I used to see in passing all the time back home,” Craig said. “It’s not even people that were super important to me, but people I got used to seeing daily in general.” 

This seemingly shared experience begs the question — is the mind constantly building connections between the novel and the known?

The impulse to associate unfamiliar faces with recognizable patterns is a natural way the brain makes sense of new stimuli, according toThe Associates for Psychological Science. From hair and hands, to the vaguest of resemblance, the brain is responsible for processing human recognition. In the same way faces can be perceived in the moon and the clouds, new people are categorized with old ones. 

Neurology aside, strangers resembling people of the past is a common ordeal in the season of transitions. Ogden Nash, 20th century American poet, attributes recalling past faces in the present to transitional periods of life. 

“Middle age is when you’ve met so many people that every new person you meet reminds you of someone else,” Ogden wrote.  

While most college students are far from middle age, the majority are navigating an equally significant shift from familial life to independence.

The drawn-out, quasi-adult stage of late high school is often spent waiting for the alluring autonomy promised by universities. This transition’s arrival can often be shocking and overwhelming for new students. Ironically enough, many people disregard the comforts of home until they’ve moved away. This acknowledgement of hindsight is a common theme among pop culture, music and arts.

In Lorde’s song “Secrets From a Girl (Who’s Seen it All),” for example, the singer works to reconcile nostalgia and hindsight. 

“Couldn’t wait to turn 15 / Then you blink, and it’s been ten years / Growing up a little at a time, then all at once,” Lorde sings.

Beyond familiar faces, the physical reminders of home — like the smell of a favorite dish or the sight of someone walking their dog — can linger throughout the transition, serving as a stark reminder of the novelty of change and the nostalgia that comes with leaving.

Nostalgia, derived from the Greek words “nostos” which translates to “return” and “algos” which translates to “pain,” directly translates to, the pain of returning home. In a modern context, it refers to a sentimental longing for the past. 

Nostalgia emphasizes the balancing act between remembrance and letting go. A challenge boiled down to embracing the future, while releasing the past. Letting go can be the difference between staying stagnant or choosing to expand one’s sense of self —  a crucial step in personal growth.

The threshold of childhood to adulthood offers both the excitement of the unknown and the immense pangs of homesickness that follow it. For students still adjusting to university life, don’t be surprised when the people, places and voices around evoke memories of home.