A Love Letter to the Sun Part II
(05/19/23 7:00am)
Dear Sun,
Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Dartmouth 's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query.
18 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
Dear Sun,
Last fall, a few days before Halloween, I stumbled upon an unusual scene unfolding on Webster Avenue, better known as “Frat Row.” All of the Greek houses had sprinkled their front lawns with candy and games as a trick-or-treating activity for local children. I was told that this was an event for DREAM (Directing through Recreation, Education, Adventure and Mentoring), a nonprofit mentorship program for local low-income kids. As I stood next to my friends on the Chi Gam lawn, I watched two kids dressed as a Roman emperor and a shark, respectively, run up to grab handfuls of candy. They then started dueling with their fake swords.
If you know me personally, then maybe you’ve heard me mention a certain guiding principle of mine. It’s not something I mention often, but it is one that I consistently adhere to. I try to let my actions speak just as loudly as my words, so the guiding principle is this: If I think of a compliment, then I voice it.
The human experience is so strange.
As with the beginning of every Dartmouth term, campus now teems with laughter and hugs as students reunite with one another after weeks or even months of separation. But I’ve found that the beginning of spring feels different from the other terms. Though spring break is relatively short, it feels like the student body comes back with a resurgence of energy and vicarious excitement.
Another year, another birthday.
From Plato to the ill-fated romances of 21st-century Dartmouth students, love has always explained our actions and our aches.
This article is featured in the 2022 Homecoming special issue.
I love you.
Hello again Dartmouth.
This article is featured in the 2022 Commencement & Reunions special issue.
Since when is it May?
This article is featured in the 2022 Spring special issue.
Dear Sun,
24 hours. 1440 minutes. 86400 seconds.
Yesterday was my 19th birthday.
I have a question for you: Do you think it is morally permissible for you to consume a bag of chips? A regular, plastic, and often half-filled bag of chips?
There is no piece of advice more profound than to think before speaking. Yet this aforementioned wisdom has merely become an age-old adage — one that is mindlessly repeated by exasperated parents to their children in exactly the same manner that it was mindlessly repeated to them. The problem isn’t necessarily the cyclical nature of such advice, but rather the deaf ears onto which it falls, for the implications of forgoing this lesson are such that they fundamentally impact the influence and value that society places unto speech. When people simply speak in order to have something to say, any and all words begin to lose their meanings. Our problem: Are we, as a society, assigning relevance to words with actual meaning? Or are the words that we revel in mere nonsense, meant only to dispel the looming prospect of silence?