Every semester without fail, one of the most memorable events on my calendar is the First Love retreat. First Love is a Christian club here at the Claremont Colleges that I’ve been a part of since my first year (or, technically, even before then — I joined some Zoom meetings during my gap year!) and our retreats are always weekends to remember.One retreat, I was inadvertently baptized with toilet water falling through a faulty ceiling. During another retreat, late-night ravenousness led us to gorge on chocolate chip cookies and sliced Sara Lee “communion” bread. My memories from my first year are fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure that one semester, we drove up the mountain intending to cook pasta for dinner on Saturday night, only to realize when we had gotten there that we had brought all the ingredients — but the pasta.Admittedly, there is always something comically unforgettable about these retreats — something that changes every semester but always makes me chuckle and shake my head. A couple of weeks ago, my friends and I ventured to Perris, California for the spring 2024 First Love retreat and, as expected, experienced a humorously noteworthy moment.This time, it was a humble bottle of honey that stole the show.
Apparently, honey is good for the vocal cords. I didn’t know that until my friend Ellie Chang SC ’24 vowed to bring a bottle of farmer’s market honey (gifted to her by alum Alan Guo PO ’23) to the retreat. A group of us — myself, Ellie, as well as Ethan Fong PO ’25 and Eliana Yi PO ’24 — were tasked with organizing all of the music for the retreat and as we prepared well over 20 songs to sing throughout the weekend, we realized that we would be singing quite a lot. We had already been exerting our voices in the rehearsals leading up to the retreat and so, as we drove to Perris, we knew that it would be crucial for us to stay hydrated — and now, thanks to Ellie (and Alan), regularly gulp down some honey to protect our voices.
So, that’s exactly what we did.
It was a comical sight because whenever the four of us play music for First Love, we often switch around on instruments. For one song, it may be me on keys, Eliana on acoustic guitar, Ellie on bass and Ethan on cajon; for another, I might be on cajon, Ellie or Ethan on keys, Eliana on bass and so on. It’s like musical chairs with instruments.
“This time, it was a humble bottle of honey that stole the show.”
This time, we passed around the honey bottle like it was another instrument, too.
Whenever we felt that our voices were getting tired, we would grab the honey bottle and slowly tilt it towards our mouths, letting the sweet, sticky liquid fall down our throats. This was a struggle for me. I’m a self-proclaimed “I like sweets that aren’t too sweet” kind of girl, so gulping down straight honey was difficult. I was so overwhelmed by the sweetness that I struggled to notice the “orange notes” that Alan raved about.
Despite the struggle, though, I was grateful for the honey. The stupidly saccharine substance both soothed my throat when I felt my voice getting tired and gave me the necessary boost of sugar to keep up my energy.
At the end of the weekend, my friends and I looked over at the honey bottle and laughed. It was almost gone — the honey only filled a portion of the bear’s body. We had sung hours upon hours of songs over a span of two days, but the honey provided our vocal cords with some much-needed sweet relief.
Our voices were still tired, that’s for sure (we had to lower the key of our final set of songs on Sunday morning), but the memories made from everyone singing together made it all worth it.
This was my last retreat with Eliana and Ellie, as they are graduating in approximately one month. I know that I’ll be sad saying goodbye to them in May (and I know that they don’t want me to think about that yet), but I will particularly cherish this honey memory with them.
This last month or so of the semester is always difficult. Academically, there is too much to do and emotionally, there is this looming feeling of sadness for the farewells you will be bidding to your senior friends in only a matter of time.
To all those with senior friends graduating soon, I encourage you to simply savor the remaining moments you have with them on these quaint Claremont campuses. Rest in each moment and be sure to take each of them in slowly — every stupidly sweet last bit.
Emily Kim PO ’25 is from Irvine, California. Sometimes she just sits on the floor of her room with her guitar (tuned to open D) and some Trader Joe’s canned wine — and that, in her opinion, is a recipe for a lovely night.
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