May We Have Peace

The heart of OU beats in the South Oval. Topped by the Bizzell Memorial Library, the formally-named Van Vleet Oval extends through numerous buildings representing a variety of colleges before meeting the main thoroughfare at Lindsey Street. Rich and colorful landscaping brings life to the area but never more so than the countless events buzzing inside its bounds. When students aren’t huddled in a study circle in the grass, international fairs, free sandwiches, political protests, and puppies all have a place in OU’s embrace in the center of campus. All who engage with its offerings can depart, having been reminded they are a part of something greater than themselves.

Perhaps it’s not surprising, then, that the South Oval’s not-so-distant cousin, the Parrington Oval—better known as the North Oval—lacks the vibrant social buzz of the South Oval. Though the South Oval recently removed the busy road on its right side, the North Oval remains surrounded by a one-way road with parallel parking spots for campus visitors and rogue students or faculty. OU sends landscapers to switch out the flowers facing Boyd Street and Campus Corner in a way that feels more like a formality than a celebration. The southmost, anchoring building, Evans Hall, handles administrative duties that seem largely out of student hands while the George Lynn Cross statue stands sentinel over the North Oval’s activities.

Though a number of colleges have buildings posted around the North Oval, it always pales in comparison to the bustle of the South Oval on a pleasant Monday morning. Events and their organizers occasionally find themselves in the North Oval, but it’s hard not to wonder what prevented them from securing a prime spot in front of the Bizzell. It more than likely bothers them, too, that the most prevalent North Oval visitors come from the Fred Jones Art Center (or FJAC) and Reynolds Performing Arts Center. For one, the North Oval bridges the west side of the oval and the Oklahoma Memorial Union, leading to small herds of students passing through whatever chooses to occupy the oval; worse yet, FJAC and Reynolds students sometimes spend entire days, even weeks, living in their respective schools while working overtime on projects. There’s nothing quite like a population of overworked, underrested “eccentrics” laying listlessly in the lawn to ruin a pleasant get-together.

Perhaps I don’t have room to talk. I’m a Visual Communication student. Though the Vis Comm program currently resides in the FJAC, the other Bachelors of Fine Arts know as well as we do design and studio arts are fundamentally different disciplines. Some students, on both sides, have picked fights over these differences for years, maybe decades. Regardless, all of us, at some point, spent some quality time in the North Oval as a listless, maybe hungover, eccentric.

I rarely stopped in the oval. Most days, I would walk through it from my bus stop, take my class, walk across to the Union for food, walk back, then cross a final time back to the bus again. Still, when taking into account the 5 years of service I did on campus, I spent many hours in the muddy, grassy patch we call the North Oval. I traversed through oppressive heat, bitter cold, torrential rain, soft snowscapes, and forceful winds in the name of class, food, rest, and friendship. On fortunate days, friends and colleagues accompanied me to the Union. We spoke our most private thoughts of the day aloud as we crossed though areas in the oval where no one ever bothered to sit and read. We discussed the state of our classes, political perspectives, and religious leanings, but never did I leave the oval feeling like we were at odds. Nothing that happened in the North Oval felt dramatic. It felt softer than normal, like shadows cast on a cloudy afternoon. Sobering. Though the hum of passing cars on Boyd prevented it from remaining silent, it felt distant. The metaphorical waters of the North Oval are still.

On the end opposite Evans Hall, another statue greets passersby. A traditionally-dressed Native American figure holds a peace pipe skyward, titled May We Have Peace. Its inscriptions describes artist Allan Houser (Allan C. Haozous) and the philosophies behind its creation. One side reads, “A university is a place where we should learn how to challenge and argue with each other without ceasing to love and respect each other.” I’d like to think so, too. I’d like to think the North Oval gave me a space to do that.