In over 20 years of photographing Notre Dame sports both as a student and a professional, I’ve seen some historic moments through my viewfinder. Highlights include the 1993 “Game of the Century” against Florida State, the “Bush Push,” National Championship games in both football and women’s basketball, the five-overtime Louisville men’s basketball game, and most recently Notre Dame’s men’s hoops’ first Elite Eight appearance since 1979.
Despite his lack of technical interest in Saturday’s heartbreaker of a loss in the NCAA Regional Final, I suspect Ted enjoyed the game immensely, although perhaps for reasons different from those of the average fan.
Margaret McMullan, a writer of novels for both adults and young adults, and a professor at the University of Evansville in Indiana, learned to love books at the knee of her father, Jim McMullan. He was a businessman, not a writer, but they “became literary groupies together,” attending writing conferences and exchanging books, writes the daughter in her editor’s foreword. When her father died of brain cancer in 2011, she found herself not only bereft but wordless.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the 73rd strip in the updated, continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. Introducing, Campus Crossroads.
We’ve been doing interviews on radio and television for nearly two years, repeating that early assessment and early treatment saves lives, but still most of our patients still appear in the late stages of disease.
In September 2012, about a month after I assumed the position of chief communications executive for Notre Dame, we were trying to keep the lid on a big secret: Notre Dame was hoping to join the Atlantic Coast Conference in all sports but football and hockey.
Why are so many of us retreating to our respective corners? How, instead, might we work together to solve the problems — big and small — that we face?
I witnessed the funeral and remembrances of Father Theodore Hesburgh, CSC, last week, and I wanted to record some fleeting impressions — both for myself for later, and to share with those from the Notre Dame family who could not be on campus for this event.
Notre Dame’s ever-changing landscape.
They say you can learn a lot about a person by observing who attends their funeral. That’s certainly true in the case of Father Theodore M. Hesburgh, CSC. The dignitaries in attendance for Father Hesburgh’s funeral Mass and memorial service read like a who’s-who of American politics, the Church, and Notre Dame lore. Yet as details of the observances surrounding his funeral were released, I found myself strangely interested in the overnight visitation.
Let me come right out and say it: I don’t have a great story of my own to share about Father Hesburgh. I’ve since had a few ennobling encounters with him, for which I’ll be forever grateful. And it’s impossible to spend any amount of time around Notre Dame people and not get to know Father Ted. It seems like everyone has a story to tell.
At 18, the college freshman was feeling homesick as he walked toward class near the Main Building of the University of Notre Dame. If he looked up, as he usually did when he neared the building, he would have seen the golden image of the Blessed Mother on the golden Dome. Instead, his eyes were focused on the world-renowned figure headed straight toward him on that day in 1973 — Father Theodore Hesburgh, then Notre Dame’s president.