There have been rumors that a cabal of student heretics are trying to replace our holy and enduring mascot. And what, I ask, would they change it to? A duck, perhaps, in reminiscence of the orgiastic rituals of spring that have soiled our student body’s innocence? Or our campus’ invasive and ubiquitous red squirrel? How about . . . the Walla Walla onion . . . ?

I myself have suffered the sweet temptation of the onion. To dissolve and collectivize the Frisbee team’s monopoly, to have something as absurd as a vegetable on a t-shirt, to proudly call myself a sweet: I rather like those propositions.

But what is a mascot?

A mascot is a lucky charm and a subject of comedy. It’s the representation of an institution (sorry, Mr. Bridges) and the avatar of its history.

It’s a symbol, an ethereal mass that we as humans can craft and imagine both effortlessly and instinctively. It’s the conjunction of our sensory experience and imagination, and it lasts only as long as we have a use for it.

Today the missionary borders on being an anachronism. It’s resigned to some moderately popular T-shirts, the basement of the library, a statue between here and Safeway and some horrendous paintings in the Marcus Whitman Hotel. All that most people know about Marcus and Narcissa: the inspiration for this mascot: is that they died fairly close to here.

Furthermore, an increasing number of Whitman students feel uncomfortable having a mascot with religious connotations. The missionary may have been a fitting mascot from 1859 to 1907 when Whitman was first a seminary school and then a religiously affiliated college, but now that our student body is full of people of different faiths and worldviews, a character whose job is to convert people to Christianity is no doubt offensive to some.

In my case, however, it bothers me to think that Marcus and Narcissa would subsequently disappear if we replaced them with something more trendy and likely more profitable. I enjoy the history our mascot contains despite its incongruity with Whitman today.

But it is just a symbol.

When I hear the word “mascot,” I think of the Spanish word “mascota,” which means “pet,” and there is some truth in that this symbol is our pet: We are its owners and ultimately we should be the ones to decide its fate.