It would take a book to explain what it’s like to be black at Notre Dame. And one with many voices. Now we have that book.
One cold winter morning, over 20 years ago when the new issue of the Notre Dame Magazine arrived in our mail, I recall that I was stunned by the cover. It was as though the artist who had created it had stepped into a very vivid dream I had recorded in my personal journal in 1983, almost 10 years earlier.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the 61st strip in the updated, continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends.
My recent chemotherapy for leukemia dropped my germ immunity to near zero. I was advised by my doctor that I would have to isolate myself from visitors and that I should not go to restaurants or church until my immunity was built up to a safe level — and that it might take weeks for that to happen.
The plot line is chiefly a vehicle for lessons in Irish history, Storyteller-style.
I’ve outgrown the days of introductory games in the classroom. But as students, and humans, we never really outgrow these epithets that encapsulate our “self” to our friends, family members and classmates. For some of my friends, the words driven, active, funny and loyal come to mind. For others, lazy or tardy. But for me, indecision is the quality I can’t escape.
At that moment, Haiti’s first emergency medical system helicopter, a project we’d been working on for over 12 months, roared to life.
A not-so-harmless game of pinball.
Today, July 13, is the birthday of the original glazed Krispy Kreme doughnut. And knowing that makes today just a little bit sweeter.
On the Monday morning after commencement, after a night of spilling pitchers of beer on Finny’s dance floor, an evening of spraying champagne bottles outside the Main Building, a day of sitting, standing, sitting, standing and shuffling bleary-eyed from one commencement ceremony to the next, a week of doing our best to avoid the inevitable, and four of the greatest years of our lives, the Class of 2014 and I are emotionally, mentally, spiritually and, most literally, physically hungover.
I think you’ll find the list of fans in these stories to be an all-star lineup.
Few things in life stir our passions like the games people play.
A pediatrician suspects a connection between pollutants and human health in her community — and her stand becomes a lightning rod for controversy and conflict.
“Really? You’re a writer? Can you make a living doing that?”
Professional sports have become vast global industries, billion-dollar enterprises and powerful cultural forces. Where does this leave their fans?
Every one of the letters that filled those sacks was a dull blade with one of our names on it, and yet we waited like idiots for those planes to land. We waited.
I haven’t been to school in 20 years, but the ebb and flow of the academic calendar became body memory long ago. That same knowledge allows me to drive through the hometown I visit only once a year, without knowing the directions, because my body remembers the turns and hills.
For well over 30 years now, the United States military has been intensively engaged in various quarters of the Islamic world. An end to that involvement is nowhere in sight.
The looming question: How do you unload a heavy cycle from a U-Haul truck unequipped with a ramp?
I know it sounds like the start of a racist joke, one of those cringe-inducing tales that begins with an Irishman, a Jew and a black guy walking into a bar. But that’s how it happens, minus the Jew, the Irishman and a stupid punch line.
I hopped off the plane from Kenya, stepped onto American soil (actually carpet) and sat down in the terminal like someone sitting down to watch his favorite rendition of his favorite play.
It’s April 5, the first day of the seventh Hesburgh International Scholars Experience (HISE). More than 90 accepted students are arriving for a five-day visit to make their final college choice before the May 1 deadline. Few have visited the United States before, and for most of these newcomers, Notre Dame is yet a sight unseen.
Notre Dame’s new Center for Arts & Culture reaches out to groups that haven’t always felt welcome. The Segura Arts Studio and its printmaking process help.
James W. Frick ’51, ’72Ph.D., 1924-2014
On a sunny Monday morning, 83 years to the day of Knute Rockne’s death in that crash, Michael Lopez sits in a room on the Notre Dame campus and opens an old briefcase to reveal the item Rockne held closest as that disabled plane plunged into a Kansas cornfield.
Meredith Sheperd was biking around Washington, D.C., to job interviews when she decided a few years ago to grow more than organic produce. She grew a business.
Deaths of Notre Dame alumni
Letters to the editor