Peter Holland spread his blanket in front of the Golden Dome. The Notre Dame Shakespeare Festival was in full swing.
My most cherished memory of my father is seeing him rush out of his home study, finger in a book, eyes alight, reading a passage that enthralled him. I couldn’t always understand why he was so excited, but his enthusiasm was catching.
A month before the 2008 presidential election and a day after ND students chose Barack Obama over John McCain 52 to 41 percent in a mock election, students flooded into McKenna Hall to hear law professors Gerard Bradley and Vincent Rougeau answer the question, “What constitutes a sufficient ‘proportionate’ reason to justify a vote for a pro-abortion candidate?”…
Dan Gezelter played trumpet as a kid, but made the switch to bagpipes in high school. “I wasn’t getting beaten up enough,” the associate professor of chemistry says.
Growing up, Bryce Chung saw things going up and down the stairs of his home in Hawaii. He’d be at the piano and feel a presence, or play a computer game and catch the reflection of someone behind him in the monitor.
Seen and heard on the campus of Notre Dame.
Frank Hering’s name has long been obscured in the shadows of Rockne and Leahy, Parseghian and Holtz.
Linda and Rich O’Leary’s large circle of friends called the couple’s house on Cedar Street in South Bend the “Cedar Club.”
Letters to the editor about the magazine’s 2009 commencement coverage
More letters to the editor about Commencement 2009 and its coverage in the Summer 2009 issue of the magazine.
Letters to the editor about stories in Summer 2009 and earlier issues.
Most people feel exhausted and disoriented after they travel quickly across several time zones. Not a problem for Giles Duffield’s special mice.
Nearly one in three American adults suffers from some form of arthritis.
An interesting thing happens when people talk to one another. They engage in an intricate dance with their eyes
Over the last four years, Kevin Gaffney ’09 spent the lion’s share of his evenings in a crowded, noisy, third-floor room in Grace Hall where students sit in carrels and telephone alumni, parents and friends of the University to ask for money.
They say you can’t squeeze water from a stone, but some rocks securely locked away in a safe in Clive Neal’s office prove otherwise.
Reunion 2009 offered Ed Stubbing ’64 much more than a chance to see some of his classmates, although he relished the opportunity. “Meeting classmates I hadn’t seen in 45 years was magnificent,” he says.
Max Siegel ’86, ’92J.D. has yet to slow a pace that began with life literally on the run.
Astronaut Kevin Ford ’82 piloted the space shuttle Discovery in August on a mission to bring supplies to the International Space Station. Among the items delivered were a freezer, storage racks, a new sleeping compartment and the Colbert Treadmill, named after TV comedian Stephen Colbert. . . . Martha Larzelere Campbell ’73M.A…
Deaths of Notre Dame alumni
It all began with music and admiration. Long before Ryan Cunningham ’02 was writing musicals, he was looking up to his older brothers, Kevin and Thomas, as they played piano and sax at the Saint Joseph Summer Theatre in Needham, Massachusetts. He knew he didn’t quite have their talent for instruments, but he diligently built sets for Kiss Me, Kate…
Other universities have histories. Notre Dame has legends.
A few decades ago, when I began reading seriously about our search for the divine in nature, I ran across a quote from John Stewart Collis in The Triumph of the Tree
Creative work from Notre Dame people.
While driving around town in my minivan I stop at many lights, park in lots of parking lots, spend hours waiting for children to finish school or other activities. I have a great deal of time to notice the cars around me and read bumper stickers.
I have noticed, just as matter of interest, that you never see a pro-choice sticker on a minivan. I have also noticed a rather popular bumper sticker that reads “Who would Jesus bomb?”…
Santa Cruz, in eastern Bolivia, offered plenty of nearby options for an adventurer. Yet six weeks after arriving to begin a new posting there, I still hadn’t left the city once. Why? I was pregnant.
To be admitted without review by committee: children under the age of 12, sixth-grade teachers, the mothers of triplets, janitors, nuns (all religions), nurses, all other mothers, loggers, policemen with more than 10 years of service, Buddhists (see Appendix A).
The turning point in my long, bumpy and still-unfinished spiritual journey began on a bright summer day when I exited a busy highway outside Sturgis, South Dakota, and headed north into the seemingly infinite horizon of the Great Plains.
My father called me in early November with the words, “something is wrong with me.”
My sister Rosemary was recently widowed. Her husband of more than 30 years went in for minor surgery but died later that night.