Interweaving patterns of apartness and closeness have united our class and solidified our understanding of each other and ourselves.
They don’t have postcards in Bangladesh, or at least in Chittagong where Devon lives. So Devon made her own postcard to send to me. She smoothed newspapers written in Bengali script into the folds of a patterned pink paper, backed it on cardstock, and penned a message on the inside that bled through the pulp.
Once somebody sent me a chain email that talked about the differences between football season in the North and in the South. It said that in the North women pack for a game by slipping a chapstick in their back pocket and a $20 bill in their front pocket. Down South, women attending the game need to sport a Louis Vuitton duffle with two lipsticks, powder, mascara (waterproof), concealer, and a fifth of bourbon. Wallet not necessary in the South, the article said—that’s what dates are for.
Fulfillment will come when we identify our values and act towards them.
Soon afterwards, Swift found herself at the Harvard-Yale game reconnecting with classmates. It was hard not to compare herself to peers raving about the impressive projects they were tackling at work.
A person can’t do everything at once, but Ernest L. Greer ’88 gets close. He is the chair-elect of the Georgia Chamber of Commerce.
It cost $450 to rent the two person suite on Westmorely Hall’s first floor in 1900—three times Harvard’s $150 tuition cost. Franklin D. Roosevelt and his roommate Lathrop Brown, both in the Class of 1904, split the cost of their room right down the middle, paying $225.50 before utilities and maintenance for each year they roomed together.
Years before encountering the magazines, Taintor studied Visual and Environmental Studies at Harvard. When she was a senior, all of her VES friends applied to graduate art programs, but Taintor could not imagine going to more school—she figured she would try being an artist straight away instead.
“You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future.”
It’s summer, the time when kids who are almost college seniors try out the real world of gainful employment. For me, that means working in media in Washington, D.C., our nation’s capital. For many of my close friends, though, it means working in banking, private equity, or any company whose last name is Capital.
There is a man who runs loose on the streets of New York City. His chest is muscular, toned, and bare, and an acoustic guitar hangs by a star-spangled strap from his neck.
Harvard Square has an uncanny ability to attract entertainers of different backgrounds. Unlike Boston’s Faneuil Hall, which admits performers on an audition-only basis and makes them schedule their performance times far in advance, Harvard Square does not discriminate: Performers who have never been in front of an audience before and those who have spent their entire careers in entertainment have equal access to its streets.
The phone rings. It’s Dad. “How’s your day? Have you heard about this Edward Snowden thing yet?” I try to keep from groaning, from rolling my eyes back; I exhale to cloak my frustration.
This year's student activists, many of whom participated in Occupy Harvard in fall 2011, say they have a complicated relationship with the old movement. They have simultaneously exploited the consciousness and connections that emerged on campus as a result of Occupy Harvard while trying to improve on the shortcomings of last year’s activism. In doing so, they have gained what Occupy Harvard never could—the support of students and administrators.
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