In the latest collaboration between anthropologist Ian Kuijt and videographer William Donaruma, both Notre Dame professors, a drone equipped with a camera offers a bird’s-eye view of the ethereal, rock-strewn beauty of a pair of Irish islands that can seem like last outposts of western civilization being battered by the Atlantic Ocean.
I’m writing this piece under the threat of public humiliation. A few months ago, I told a fellow editor I had purchased a book that would make a great subject for a “What I’m Reading” post. A week or so later, my wife and I moved into a new house. When I unpacked the boxes marked “Books,” my new book was nowhere to be found. I assured myself it would turn up. It didn’t, and my editor jokingly said she’d take to this website to publicly expose my welching if I didn’t submit the story soon.
As Alliance for Catholic Education teachers in southeast Washington D.C., we’ve spent the first few weeks of this school year preparing our classes for Pope Francis’ visit. Our students’ unabashed curiosity has turned these religion lessons into humorous and thought-provoking classroom discussions. Yet when we set off in pursuit of a Pope Francis sighting last Wednesday, we weren’t sure which lessons had actually stuck.
If I were to tell you that the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain, you might fairly ask, “How do you know?” And if I said, “Well, every time I was in the plain in Spain, it rained, but every time I was in the mountains, it did not,” you might decide I was right. If you were an academic, however, you probably would rain on my anecdotal parade.
The pope turns off his air conditioner at night. I know, because for some years now I have had the honor of staying in the Domus Sanctae Marthae inside Vatican City while attending a meeting in June. Every evening around 10, without fail, the air conditioners turn off until 5 a.m. Equally without fail, I awaken every morning at 3 in an agony of Roman heat.
More than most events on campus, New York Times columnist Ross Douthat’s talk last week on religious liberty seemed to draw a thorough cross-section of the Notre Dame community. And Douthat knew how to play to this crowd.
The student writer was giving good advice. In his Observer column he was criticizing competitively cutthroat academic environments he had known. He liked that Notre Dame students choose community over competition.
Five hours of television per day may seem like wasted time to some. But how better to master, and to fear, the concept of polygenesis?
Most of us know someone who lives life out loud, to the fullest, bright as yellow. They seem unfettered by fears. Writer Nicole C. Kear had her own good reason for throwing caution to the wind and living a daring life. At age 19 she learned she was going blind.
Frederick Franck was an extraordinary man — an oral surgeon, sculptor, author of more than 30 books and an artist with work in the Museum of Modern Art and the Whitney. One fall day in 1962 he embarked on an extraordinary plan — but it wasn’t really a plan at all.
Welcome to the 86th strip in Molarity Redux, the updated, continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. Can we talk?
Most of the long-term homeless I encounter are men, many with mental health problems and substance abuse issues. Helen defied my expectations.
It was a nice day, I was tired of my office, the students were back, campus was calling. An exhibition at the Snite — One Hundred Years of Automobile Design — gave my excursion a sense of purpose and direction.
Jack Reacher, protagonist of 19 Lee Child books, is a drifter, a loner, a former military police officer who champions the downtrodden, usually with his fists. In other words, your basic bad-ass guardian.