Why baseball matters
I've been waiting and hoping for a chance to write about baseball this entire school year. And with this being the last column I'll write this year, it's now or never.
I've been waiting and hoping for a chance to write about baseball this entire school year. And with this being the last column I'll write this year, it's now or never.
I'm sure you've seen them. They meander through campus clutching folders with a sense of bewilderment, trailed by sets of parents snapping photos. They wear sweatshirts from the bookstore so new that they still have the tags. Their moms stop you in front of CoMo to ask how to find South Dining Hall.
Overt harassment is far from the only difficulty faced by non-heterosexual people at Notre Dame. Workplace discrimination against non-heterosexual employees is a fact of life here.
As the crush of joggers around the lakes, presence of lax bros on the quads and appearance of the sun might suggest, spring has descended upon Notre Dame's campus. With it comes the reemergence of one of Notre Dame's finest traditions. It's not Bookstore Basketball, or the Fisher Regatta, or even the annual quarterback auditions held on the practice fields. Rather, it's a tradition unlike any other: Carroll Hall sand volleyball.
It was at the 10:30 p.m. Dillon Hall Mass last Sunday night that I saw it. I opened Mass with the Sign of the Cross, and as I looked up in greeting - "The Lord be with you" - it was staring back at me. Late-semester fatigue. Stress. You mumbled "And also with you," with an energy and interest that was slightly less than awe-inspiring. So, I mentally cut my homily in half, and doubled my volume, but the message was clear: "Father, we love Jesus, but unless he's writing my papers this week, please keep it short!"
On April 9, a seemingly insignificant photo application called Instagram announced it was being purchased by Facebook for a massive billion dollars. 18 months ago, Instagram didn't exist. It was just an offshoot of an idea rattling around Kevin Systrom's and Mike Krieger's heads.
Every pamphlet, tour and administrator brags about dorm life at Notre Dame. Most students stay in the same dorm all four years, and each hall is a community. Our system succeeds, because each hall has its own particular identity. This is only the case because Keenan Hall is different than Keough Hall, Walsh Hall is different than Welsh Family Hall, and so on. These differences and traditions give each incoming student something to be proud of, and each upperclassman something to hold on to.
In response to Rebekah Wielgos ("Postings at SMC," April 12):
Like many highly intelligent, self-important members of society, I only lend my attention to the most noble and artistically highbrow forms of entertainment. All right, none of that's true; well maybe just the self-important part.
Next Friday, I am shaving my head for St. Baldrick's. This was something I had been thinking about over the past few weeks, and finally I just decided to go for it. St Baldrick's is such an amazing cause, and raises so much money for research for childhood cancer. I know we all know people who have been affected by cancer. One of my friends and classmates that I graduated with from grade school died of leukemia in September 2010 after a four-year-long battle. She was such a vibrant person, so full of life and never afraid to speak her mind. I saw her undergo chemotherapy and go bald, something she was very self-conscious about. Which leads me to my main point here.
In February, the Gender Relations Center (GRC) invited Kerry Cronin to our campus to begin a conversation about dating. The program in Legends was very well-attended, and the audience participated in a lively dialogue about relationships (or the lack thereof) on the Notre Dame campus.
I remember April 16, 2007 because I almost did not go to school that day. When you're in your high school schedule of waking up at ungodly times to go to school every morning, you remember those rare occasions when you almost got to go back to bed. Any form of parental excuse was a blessing from the heavens in the midst of endless standardized testing.
"Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show is one of those songs college students love.
To the Editors:
Don't look now, but the year is almost over.
Did you know more than 10 million Americans are affected by blindness? This statistic is a sad reality for all ages, with many different causes and forms of blindness affecting children and the elderly alike. However, YOU can help! Research dedicated to curing blindness is taking place all over the country, as well as on this very campus!
Most readers believe that editorial pages like this one exist merely to express opinions and encourage dialogue. But pages such as "Viewpoint," rooted not solely in the commercial domain but nestled in academic settings - and especially those of religious-affiliated institutions like Notre Dame - serve a more important life-setting role for young adults. Unlike the Wall Street Journal or New York Times, The Observer more directly enlightens students on how to mold their adult lives through stimulating debate, personal experience and simple entertainment. On this published grid lies a daily spark with the potential to ignite each young mind to think on its own and make independent judgments that may or may not agree with older generational teachings.
Many conservatives, myself included, have been pretty disappointed with this year's Republican presidential primary. While the field is narrowing and a winner seems to be emerging, the entire process has been taxing on an electorate that was so charged to displace the current incumbent after all the damage done to this country for present and future generations. A conservative revival that began shortly after 2008 and manifested itself in Tea Party politics that showed tremendous influence in 2010 has taken a huge hit by the lackluster choices in candidates for the top position in global politics.