A talk radio commentator was ranting the other day about the global warming “hoax.” He said this winter was evidence that the planet isn’t getting any hotter and that climate change talk is mere propaganda.
Full service is the key to full healing.
What Brian Doyle ’78 is reading: Someone, Alice McDermott
Basketball is a messy game. It is even messier for 9-year-olds who can’t help but double-dribble, who swarm to the ball like moths to a porch-light and who take too many steps when none is allowed.
Perhaps students from the plains of Indiana should avoid the Swiss Alps.
I’m convinced there is no set curriculum in my mother’s class. There are definitely no tests. I’m also convinced that it’s the most important class those fifth graders may ever take. She teaches them how to be good humans.
Haiti’s Carnival, or Kanaval in Creole, is not one weekend but an entire season, fusing the French tradition of pre-Lenten celebrations with a uniquely Haitian embrace of the intransience of life.
What Carol Schaal is reading: How to Read Literature, Terry Eagleton.
The long, snowy South Bend winter has taken its toll on residents and students alike, but the Basilica of the Sacred Heart had an unexpected casualty this week.
Professor Bill Storey ’54M.A., ’59Ph.D. taught me how to pray.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the 56th strip in the updated, continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. It’s the season of shenanigans: spring break!
The last time I sat at the United Nations headquarters was for a conference on HIV and AIDS seven years ago. In January, I returned for a conference on the same topic, this time focused on how sports can reinforce the messages of HIV prevention.
In the summer of 1960 I found at my local library in Springfield, Massachusetts, a book on Notre Dame. Now, almost 54 years later, I’ve been a student, a parent, a faculty member, an administrator, an advisory council member and, of course, an alumnus. So when I happened across another copy of the book, Notre Dame: the story of a great university by Richard T. Sullivan (Henry Holt and Company, 1951), I wanted to read it from that perspective.
The transition is instant. As the door opens, I step out of the pleasant air conditioning and I’m instantly hit with the thick, full heat of a Ugandan morning. This morning, like all mornings here on the equator, is just picking up steam as the sun heads toward the highest spot in the sky.
The 2014 poster: “Looking Out Father Hesburgh’s Window”
The scene is so absurd. It’s 9 a.m. in New York City and thousands of people rush, straight faced, to wherever they need to be. And then there’s Geoff, relentlessly happy, sending sparks of enthusiasm to anyone who walks by.
I grew up under the cloud of Cold War hostility. The Olympics became a staging ground for international rivalries, with U.S. athletes doing their patriotic best to beat Soviet bloc countries and show which political and economic system was superior. Athletes, whether they liked it or not, bore the weight of global power posturing.
More classic Molarity.
The printing press, the Black Death and a meteor laid the groundwork for the monumental achievement that is Dürer’s Apocalypse.
While challenging, practicing medicine without modern resources is to rediscover the art of medicine.
I knew what had to be done, not that I’d actually done it before.
Travel-worn and weary, I stepped over the uneven threshold into Dan the Durd’s snug cottage and the years fell away from me. The place had not changed in five years and neither had Dan’s warmth and welcome.
It’s minus something outside. Cold enough to cancel school, cold enough to stay indoors all day, cold enough to wonder why we live this far north of moderate and cold enough for my kids to invite that other kid, “I’m so bored” over to not play.
My car pulls into the driveway as a stranger peeks through the blinds eagerly awaiting my arrival. She doesn’t know me, but she’s friendly and welcoming at the door. If I do my job right our interaction is brief, businesslike and satisfying.
An unlikely fan seeks redemption amidst the carnage
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the 55th strip in the updated, continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. The HHS mandate has some lesser-known consequences.
Among Notre Dame traditions, there is one that is cruel and unusual.
Over 55,000 people die of rabies every year, the majority from dog bites in Africa and Asia. Haiti allegedly has one of the highest rates of prevalence in the Western Hemisphere. However, much like all health issues in Haiti, the dearth of available data makes it impossible to know the true pervasiveness of the disease.
For me and for everyone else who is 23, there are two worlds we’ve lived in: the world before 9/11 and the world after.
Juniper Road, where I’d driven my green Jeep to a party north of campus. Where, as the car passed a huddle of Frosh-O students, my friend Hannah had leaned out the window and yelled, “God loves you even if you’re gay!” Where I, 21 years old and with one foot out of the closet, had felt embarrassed and exhilarated. All that on Juniper Road.