More than anything else, the small white card says: This person belonged here.

A DEATH IN THE FAMILY There are two places on campus where flags are routinely flown: One is on the south side of Mrak Hall, where the U.S. and California flags are raised and lowered each day on their separate poles; the other is at the north end of the Quad, just south of the Coffee House at the intersection of two well-traveled walkways. The first location is what I think of as the campus's "front door"--it's where company comes to call. The flagpole on the Quad, though, is more for us--those of us who study, live and work here. On it, right under the flags of country and state, flies the university flag. Bright blue with gold insignia, on breezy days it adds a smart and elegant look to the pair above. On some days, though, the university's flag flies at half-staff, and on those days if you approach the flagpole you will find a small white index card inserted in one of the three slots on the pole. On that card will be the name of someone in our campus community who has died. Every death is noted in the same way: name, payroll title or year in school, department or major, and dates of birth and death. In a setting such as ours, where rank and status often count for so much, the passing of one of our members is cause for remembering that, in the end, we're all equal. Emeritus professor, graduate student, sophomore, custodian, administrative assistant, librarian, dean--more than anything else, the small white card says: This person belonged here--was one of our own. I've been at UC Davis nearly 25 years now, longer than I've been anywhere else in my life. I've spent thousands of hours here, more than I've spent at my house, with my friends or even with my family. If there's one place I belong, it's here on this campus. So it pleases me to think that, should I die while I'm still part of this community--whether by accident, from disease or (as now seems most likely) at my desk of old age--someone will prepare a small white card that reads "Barbara Anderson, Senior Editor, Public Communications, Feb. 22, 1944 -- XXXX" and place it in that slot on the flagpole before raising the university flag first up to the top then lowering it halfway. I like to think that people will notice the flag and come closer to see whose memory is being honored. Maybe they'll remember me from some committee we both were on, or recall a story I wrote for UC Davis Magazine. Most of all, I hope they feel a little bit like I do when I read someone's name and see that flag at half-staff: like part of a large, extended family, one that bickers and squabbles sometimes and that often goes months or years without getting together with that distant branch over there, but a family nonetheless--one that takes the time to remember and to say a last farewell. -- Barbara Anderson