News » Archives » 2012

Far afield: Woolridge, remembered

By Jason Kelly '95

When Orlando Woolridge died last month, the collected details of his life and personality illustrated just how little I knew about the man who once inspired my rapt attention — how little we all know about the athletes who pass through our consciousness, then go on with their lives while we size up their replacements.

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The Playroom: The traveler

By Maraya Steadman '89, '90MBA

Today is the first day of our family vacation in Texas. I’m super cranky. I could blame it on flying by myself with three kids, renting a car, getting lost, finally finding the hotel, then getting everyone fed, bathed and in front of a television. But that’s not it. I am not a good traveler.

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Lazy I: Time, stand still

By John Nagy ’00M.A.

Maybe it’s that I’m within a blink of turning 40, maybe it’s that my oldest will start junior high this August. Whatever the cause, I find myself lately taking mental snapshots of my family.

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Far afield: Retiring types

By Jason Kelly '95

Wrigley Field’s organist played “My Way” while Chicago Cubs pitcher Kerry Wood walked off the mound for the last time. Wood probably came as close as any professional athlete could to retiring on his own terms, which says a lot about the reluctant endings of most careers.

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Graduates, you can go home again

By Katie Peralta ’10

I wallowed and job-searched for about two months before doing some real self-evaluating and coming to a refreshing conclusion. Having supportive parents and a place to go back to, as it turns out, is not the worst thing in the world.

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Making It on Her Own . . . and You Can, Too

By Grace Myers '08

Meg McElwee ’03 knows that the best things in life are often the most simple, like buzzing two pieces of fabric through a sewing machine, sketching out plans for a new dress or running her fingers over the fabric that will soon become a fort for her boys.

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The Playroom: A mother’s day

By Maraya Steadman '89, '90MBA

In the wee hours of this morning, I woke up with the dog snoring in my ear, his leg over my shoulder. Owning the dog hasn’t turned out exactly the way I planned, but then neither have a lot of things in life, such as parenting my kids. I’m not sure what I thought parenting was going to be like.

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Rockin’ The Pony

By Michael Rodio ’12

Like everything in Asbury Park, the Pony has seen better days. No longer do the leather-jacketed bards of the boardwalk stomp its stage. But once upon a time the likes of Bruce Springsteen and Southside Johnny launched their careers here, and one clear Sunday afternoon five years ago a group of unshaven suburban kids made their debut at this lead-painted cradle of rock. We clearly had no idea what the hell we were doing.

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O’Brien embodies commercial success

By Liz Warren

Actor Dan O’Brien ’99 was tailgating before the Notre Dame at Stanford game last Thanksgiving weekend when a fellow tailgater began gesturing wildly in his direction and approached him. As one of the co-stars of Whitney, NBC’s hit ensemble comedy, O’Brien has had to adjust to being recognized — and sometimes accosted — by fans.

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Today

By Dr. Vincent DeGennaro Jr. ’02

“You are going to die today,” I kept thinking. But I couldn’t get the words out. I’ve never had to say those exact words to a patient before. I’ve told dozens of patients they have an incurable disease that will ultimately claim their life. It’s an abstract concept at that point.

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Sidewalk style

By Michael Rodio ’12

At first glance, Notre Dame in the wintertime isn’t exactly a bastion of fashion. Couture takes a backseat to cozy in the teeth of South Bend’s chilling climate. But take a look past the dull blacks and browns, and ND’s subtle sidewalk style starts to emerge.

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Shopping for me

By Maraya Steadman '89, '90MBA

I live in fear of those cable television shows where they videotape some unsuspecting woman, stage a fashion intervention where all her friends and family tell her how awful she dresses, then throw away her entire wardrobe, give her lots of money to go buy new clothes and cut off her hair.

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