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The destruction wrecked upon the home of a girl named Sally and her brother as a red-and-white hat wearing anthropomorphic cat and his two “Thing” henchmen balance on umbrellas, fly kites indoors and knock pictures off walls requires a magical cleaning machine to ameliorate. Dr. Seuss’s 1957 book may have succeeded in stimulating childhood imagination, but unfortunately (in case you didn’t realize it) we don’t live in “Cat in the Hat” universe, and the Dartmouth alumnus couldn’t succeed in bringing about a way to go back in time and reverse the damage we’ve done.
Ryan Spector ’19’s Feb. 2 guest column titled “You’re Not Tripping” seems to me, and many others, to be a violent attack against women and women of color. Fortunately, the Dartmouth community has responded; several organizations — 40 at the time of publication — have voiced their support for the members of the Trips directorate. Those mentioned in Spector’s column and those who went out of their way to support them make this community strong.
I took a Ryanair plane to Munich for less than 100 euros roundtrip. Then, I traveled toward Petershausen on the S2 subway line before taking the 720 bus from the Dachau Stadt Railway Station.
I’ve struggled throughout college to find an alarm clock that really works for me. Apple’s “chimes” sound is too calming, and “radar” is too harsh. Custom tones have not worked either: I had my alarm set to Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up” for a while before I realized that I had the rest of the day to channel my hipster-dom and didn’t want to start that performance so early in the morning.
Our country has begun to fall apart. I do not quite know what is happening, but it has something to do with Russia, with hacking and with “treason.” That is something I should know about, something a little more significant than Greek life, national sports or upcoming pong tournaments.
It is easy to think about the world today and be depressed. The sun rarely shines in the winters and every day you get a bit further behind in class. People continue to pour kilotons of carbon into the atmosphere and continue to ignore the millions of refugees displaced, in part, by our own actions. On Jan. 20, as the Hanover sky assumed its dull grey shade, President Donald Trump’s inauguration hung its own cloud over the future of our country.
In the third and final presidential debate, Clinton called Trump a puppet. He retaliated by telling her that he was not a puppet, but that she was one. In changing the definition of this word to strike at Clinton, Trump inadvertently gave viewers a glimpse into his strategy during the entire election.
If you’re a Donald Trump supporter at Dartmouth, you might as well be invisible. In visiting campus this past week, Bill Clinton continued the trend of liberal candidates speaking to liberal students on an overwhelmingly liberal campus. This trend implies that it’s acceptable if “you’re with her,” but there’s no place for you here if you want to “make America great again.”
When I first came here as a freshman, I had two goals for my college experience: get good grades and join a fraternity. I chose Dartmouth because I wanted the exceptional undergraduate education it offered. Outside the classroom, though, I just wanted a place where I could relax, maybe drink some beer and hang out with friends.
I grew up in a small town with small-town values. I knew almost everyone in my high school, and most of my friends spent their weekends running outside or going to church. I still clearly remember the shock I felt when, one spring day about four years ago, I visited my sister, a Dartmouth ‘16, at college and first set foot in a fraternity.
I’ve sat at my computer for a while, trying to think of some piece of overarching wisdom that I, with one year of college under my belt, can share with you Dartmouth newbies. But as I’m sure you’ll discover soon enough, when you inevitably end up in the stacks at 4 a.m. having just drunk the last dregs from your Red Bull and with three pages left in that seemingly pointless essay for the freshman writing course you got stuck with because all the others filled up, sometimes the words just don’t come to you.
Over winter break, I had the privilege of visiting Israel for ten days as part of a Birthright trip to bring Jewish young adults to their biblical homeland. On this trip, my group visited Yad Vashem, the Israeli national Holocaust museum dedicated to the six million Jews who died in the genocide. Along with the graphic footage of Auschwitz-Birkenau and death marches, one aspect of the museum that really struck me was the story of the MS St. Louis, a boat that carried 937 Jewish refugees from Hamburg, Germany to off of the coast of Florida in 1939. Upon arrival there, the United States government, under the Immigration Act of 1924 which restricted immigration from Southern and Eastern Europe, denied entry to the passengers, whose trip is now known as the “Voyage of the Damned.” With no place left to go, the boat was forced to head back to Europe. Historians now estimate that a quarter of its passengers ultimately became Holocaust victims.