Meditations of a once-aspiring mystic on the brink of growing up.
I stood in my Brooklyn bedroom and stared at my radiator. From it spouted a steaming stream thick as a drinking fountain’s.
Notre Dame’s consummate bartender does more than serve up drinks. He’s counselor, companion, philosopher, poet, ambassador, storyteller, sweetheart, teacher, diplomat, legend and friend to all who enter there.
Piles of dirt, deep trenches and uprooted parking lots are common sights on the Notre Dame campus, thanks to frequent construction. But a closer look at the chunks of excavated lawn between Old College and the Log Chapel reveals something surprising.
For my thesis colloquium course at Notre Dame this past fall, I read “People Like That Are the Only People Here,” a short story by Lorrie Moore. Captivated by her wit, emotional power, nimble language and pithy social insight, I vowed to find more Moore. Finally — seven months, a complete thesis and one diploma later, I did.