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Hall Portrait: Lewis

By Jim Ryan '06

Year Built: 1965

Capacity: 297

Male or female: Always female

They call themselves: the Chickens, or, more commonly, the Chicks.

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Seen and heard on campus

By Matt Cashore '94

Mary McAleese, president of the Republic of Ireland, will be the commencement speaker at graduation exercises on May 21, 2006. An attorney, journalist and scholar, McAleese was elected to the largely ceremonial office of president in 1997 and re-elected unopposed in 2004. She is a native of Belfast, Northern Ireland.

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Creators of knowledge

By Julie Hail Flory

One by one, the imposing metal doors whirred to life, slid open, then clicked shut behind him. Opening . . . then closing. Opening . . . then closing. Twenty doors. The process seemed to go on forever.

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Academic freedom and Catholic values

By Richard Conklin '59M.A.

Against the backdrop of two controversial campus events, Notre Dame's president, Rev. John I. Jenkins, CSC, has proposed a rethinking of what constitutes academic freedom in a Catholic institution of higher learning.

Speaking to separate open meetings of faculty and students in January, Jenkins took up the nettlesome issues of _The Vagina Monologues_, a nationally performed play about female sexuality and identity, and the erstwhile titled Queer Film Festival. _Monologues_ was about to have its fifth annual performance on campus, while the gay film event was scheduled for its third season. In a key point, a total of eight academic entities in the College of Arts and Letters—six departments and two programs—were involved in sponsorship of the two events, both publicly opposed by Most Rev. John M. D'Arcy, bishop of Fort Wayne-South Bend.…

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"Ta-da"

By Susan DeBow

I asked my friend Edna if she would like me to write a personal ad for her. She’s buried two husbands, said she’s not looking for another. But for a little fun? Why not?

“Let’s see,” I said, “It would be ‘S’ for single, ‘W’ for white, umm, seeking younger man. Must be at least 100.”

Edna laughed. “Oh, no. That’s too old. I want someone younger.”…

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Daddy's home

By Andrew Santella

Around the time my son turned 3, he developed a knack for delivering brusque commands. One of his favorites was “Go away,” and it was usually directed at me. He made a good dictator. Ordering me out of his presence, he would marshal such imperious body language—a Mussolini in Toughskins—that I almost found myself obeying him.…

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Letters to the editor

By Readers

Another Bill Toohey story

** As a graduate student, I was a member of a group called the Gay Students of Notre Dame/Saint Mary's. We were not a recognized student group and needed a place to meet. As head of Campus Ministry, Father Bill Toohey, CSC, graciously offered us use of the Bulla Shed, the small meeting house on the edge of campus. Each week one of us would go to the Campus Ministry office in the library and pick up the key. Once when I did this Father Toohey was manning the front desk. He must have sensed I was nervous. With a warm smile he gave me the key, then shook my hand and said he hoped we would have a good meeting. For many of us those meetings were the best part of our experience at Notre Dame, and we were always grateful to Father Toohey for his quiet courage in helping us.…

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A leap into my new story

By James M. Lang '91

After years of toil and struggle at my craft, I became a rock star last month.

Well, maybe not a star. But I did play a college gig with a local rock band, banging out perfect chords on my state-of-the-art keyboard to a vocal and enthusiastic crowd.

“Rock band” might be an overstated description of the two friends of mine who play cover songs on acoustic guitar at local venues. And we happened to be playing at the college where I teach—I helped my friends get the gig, so they took pity on me and let me sit in on their show with a keyboard I borrowed from the college. And while the crowd was vocal and enthusiastic, it was also about a dozen strong, the majority of whom were our friends. By the time we took the stage, after an opening band of students warmed up the crowd, most of that crowd had decided to head out to the bars.…

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My belated reading of his shortened life

By Douglas Curran '00MFA

A friend of mine, whom I'll call S.C., committed suicide on a Wednesday in February. On the following day, the _New York Post_ reported that his age had been 37; I thought he was 35, tops. I had known him for two years, and in that time, for me, I guess, he hadn't aged a day. The paper was unsure if he had landed in the water and then been washed ashore or if he had not touched the water at all. He had leapt from the George Washington Bridge somewhere just past noon on a day when the sun was bright and the sky blue.…

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M. Clay Adams, Rockne and Notre Dame in the 1930s

By Joe La Costa '79

A year or so ago one of my clients, who knew I was a Notre Dame grad, thought I might like to speak to another alumnus, whom he referred to as “94 years young” and who’d had a career in the movie and television business.

Eventually I met M. (for Michael, his grandfather) Clay Adams for lunch and spoke with him about his time at Notre Dame in the late 1920s and early ’30s. He was born on May 17, 1909, and graduated from ND in 1932, so his college years were both before and after the great stock market crash of 1929. . The conversation below is from the emails and the lunchtime conversations with M. Clay Adams.…

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M. Clay Adams: An old-fashioned success story

By Eric Butterman

We’ve all heard those romantic Hollywood stories. The handsome kid who was walking down the street, only to be discovered by a casting agent and made a star. The young girl who brought the coffee just as a director was thinking about who would be the lead in his next movie—and from that day on, people brought her the coffee.

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The push and pull of power

By G. Jeffrey MacDonald

In the mid-1990s, executives at pharmaceutical giant Bristol-Myers Squibb were counting on big results from Capoten, a hot new drug for lowering blood pressure, when unwelcome news crossed their desks.

Studies of pregnant women were beginning to suggest Capoten could cause serious problems in the fetus. Top company executives mulled their options carefully: Should the drug be pulled? Should a warning label immediately be applied?…

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"I don't know where Hannah went"

By Walton Collins '51

Hannah Weis is never in Notre Dame stadium to watch her father’s team play football. Charlie Weis’s daughter, who turns 11 this April, has an autism-related developmental disorder that includes intolerance of loud sounds. The chaos of a football stadium is more than she can handle.

“Football games are impossible,” says her mother, Maura Weis. “They’re too crowded, and there’s too much noise. When Hannah was younger, certain lights also bothered her. Airplanes, too—she doesn’t mind flying, but she doesn’t like to be confined.”…

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Antidote to autism

By Walton Collins '51

Mateo DelPrete is dancing on the dining room table.

Elesia Dixon, a Notre Dame senior psychology major, interrupts a conversation with the 5-year-old’s mother and calmly lifts the boy down, but moments later Mateo has scrambled back atop the table. He’s frustrated this morning because the Popsicle he successfully clamored for was orange, not the color he wanted. Neither his tutor nor his mother knew what color he preferred, because Mateo often doesn’t communicate in words.

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No time for you

By Andrew Santella

Not long ago, in a Starbucks in Evanston, I eavesdropped on a couple breaking up.

It couldn't be helped. We were wedged together, the unhappy couple and me, in a corner of the coffeehouse, so tightly that we might as well have been commuters on a rush-hour train. I had a newspaper open and every once in a while would try to read a sentence or two but could never get far. My attention kept drifting to the love affair being terminated next to me.…

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Notre Dame's seers

By John Monczunski

Eight years ago Notre Dame astronomer Peter Garnavich and his colleagues observed that certain distant exploding stars were fainter than accepted formulas had predicted. What may seem like a “so what?” fact turns out to have profound theoretical implications that have fueled the speculation of cosmologists ever since.

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Editor's note" Tell us More

By Kerry Temple ’74

Richard Sullivan was one of the giants here. He taught English lit and writing classes, and he wrote a book about Notre Dame that he described as a love story, not a history. Published in 1951, Notre Dame: Reminiscences of an Era is a period piece for sure, but I’ve quoted it often.

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Miles to go before I wed

By Heather Treseler

Five-foot-nine, my mother stands almost 6-feet tall in heeled shoes. In 1975, she graduated—at the actual and literal —top of her class at Providence College, with a degree in hospital administration. My father had graduated a year earlier. In fact, they had met in Spanish class, when my father and his football friends rigged the back door of the classroom so it would open, seemingly at random, and encourage Marita Ford to walk the length of the classroom to close it.…

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Unreal: A portrait of the cosmos

By Chet Raymo'58, '64Ph.D.

“One can’t believe impossible things,” says Alice in Through the Looking-Glass. “I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” replies the Red Queen. “When I was your age I always did it for a half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

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My Story, Page 3

By Readers

Fighting Irish Legends
by Bob Plain '69
Greensboro, North Carolina
Written in January 1994 for my father, George Plain '39

The game and the athlete have played a prominent role in my life. I have logged untold hours and miles in support of Little League, CYO, recreation, Y, junior high, high school, collegiate and professional sports events. I have been a fan, player, parent, coach, official, sibling rival and sometimes all these. The dilemma of going from player to fan, fan to parent or parent to coach has been juggled by and even fumbled by me. What the heck, you get paid big money to bat .333.…

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My Story, Page 1

By Readers

What a feeling
By Lou E. LaGrand '58
Venice, Florida

It has been 48 years since I spent my one calendar year at Notre Dame, and yet it never fails, every time I hear or see the words "Notre Dame" my mind goes positive. I have been given a most welcome treat. Why? I suspect there is a mysterious reason, part of my life script. Perhaps to help keep my inner life vibrant and other-centered. However, what is very clear is that the intangible atmosphere that permeates the Notre Dame experience has penetrated to the deepest core of my being. The physical and spiritual presence of the campus coupled with the people who roam this happy place remind me of the peace and goodwill that every heart seeks.

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My Story, Page 2

By Readers

Thank you, Father Ted
by Ron Zier '52
Wyckoff, New Jersey

Fifty eight years ago, Father Ted Hesburgh changed my life.

I arrived at Notre Dameat 8 a.m. on Sunday, September 12, 1948, making the14-hour trip from Manhattan on the New York Central's Pacemaker. I was accompanied by two suitcases and a sense of adventure. Unfortunately, reflecting my status as a late acceptance, I quickly learned that there was no dormitory space available.…

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A member of the family

By Ed Cohen

Sometime toward the end of my first week on the job here at the magazine, more than 10 years ago, I received a phone call from Father Malloy’s office.

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My second time around

By Matt Storin ’64

It was about 10 a.m. on Tuesday, November 30, 2004. I was at a meeting on the 5th floor of Grace Hall, when my cell phone came to life. On the other end of the line was then-Provost Nathan Hatch, asking, “How soon can you extricate yourself from whatever you’re doing and come over here?”

As I walked across the Notre Dame campus to the Main Building, I had a hunch, based on a casual conversation with Father Jenkins, president-elect, a few weeks earlier, plus the debacle in Los Angeles vs. USC the previous weekend, that this might concern Coach Tyrone Willingham’s tenure.

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One Night in January

By Kerry Temple ’74

I was one of the last to leave Grace Hall that Friday in January when I stopped in my tracks. Sunlight—shielded so often by South Bend’s wintry, gray cloud cover—bloomed over the evening landscape, bathing buildings and bare trees in a rosy radiance. I lingered and looked and took it all in: the western sky, the soft blush of campus, the quiet pause in the descending day. There are moments in life when clarity blooms, when currents converge or when disparate elements align in a moment that seems providential. This was one of those times.

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My Story, Page 2

By Readers

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Thank you, Father Ted

by Ron Zier ’52
Wyckoff, New Jersey

Fifty eight years ago, Father Ted Hesburgh changed my life.

I arrived at Notre Dame at 8 a.m. on Sunday, September 12, 1948, making the14-hour trip from Manhattan on the New York Central’s Pacemaker. I was accompanied by two suitcases and a sense of adventure. Unfortunately, reflecting my status as a late acceptance, I quickly learned that there was no dormitory space available.…

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A Midlife Journey: You Can Come Home Again

By Laurie Cuffe Kelley ’83, ’84MBA

The materials were in our mailbox when we returned home from our last official family spring-break vacation. Our oldest child will be entering college this fall, and none of his final college choices have the same spring break as his three younger sisters. Trust me, I have already checked this out. The materials read in big bold letters “Welcome Home to Notre Dame.”…

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