I remember thinking how weird it felt. I was sitting on an airplane in a seat next to my boss, 20 years older than me, and a man with whom I’d had minimal conversations. We were both quiet, introverted, not prone to talking. Plus he was my boss, the magazine’s editor. And I didn’t like flying.
A plate of cookies sat on a table by the door, half-empty by the time I arrived. Coffee in cardboard boxes and a stack of clean paper cups. I didn’t dare pour one for myself because I was late, having walked halfway around McCourtney Hall, angsty and out of breath and unable to find the “auditorium.” Plus which, I’d never been to a doctoral defense before.
In search of savings and lower carbon emissions, Notre Dame is employing a new heating and cooling system: planet Earth.
So there’s this thing that happened, and it seemed so right at the time, the natural flowering of life and love, a moment meant to be. But that was then, and this is now.
Win or lose, when you're with friends, every seat is a premium seat. Even in your own living room.
Telling the astronomical and theological story of the universe for the Vatican.
The book I’m re-reading now is Resurrection: The Miracle Season That Saved Notre Dame by Jim Dent. I read it first about five years ago and boisterously recommend it to fellow alums I meet during the reunions each summer. It is particularly poignant now with the death of legendary football coach Ara Parseghian.
I don't know what I been told. The air by the ice cream just got cold.
Dear Mr. President: I know that mentioning the phrases “Russian hacking” and “tax returns” might raise your blood pressure or lead your thumbs to a Twitter thread. So I apologize at the outset for raising two of your least favorite subjects in this letter.
Salvaged brick from the university's earliest days helps rebuild the campus.