Opinion
Letter: Simple parable from the dean
By admin | March 25, 2010I wanted to share this parable with you. I did not write it, and in all honesty, I have no idea of its origin.
I wanted to share this parable with you. I did not write it, and in all honesty, I have no idea of its origin.
"I'm flying high over Tupelo, Miss., with America's hottest band -- and we're all about to die." Actually, not quite, but I've wanted to start an article like that since the first time I saw "Almost Famous." And with this being my final column, I figured I wouldn't have the unparalleled freedom I have enjoyed on these pages any time soon, if ever.
Dear University of Richmond student body, Recent articles featured in the Collegian have sparked a dialogue focused on race on the University of Richmond campus.
When I went to Greensboro, N.C., for the first round of the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament last year, I thought life couldn't get much better. I was wrong. A few months ago, I realized this could be the year to fulfill the dream I've had since I was 7 years old: watching my college play in March Madness.
Most think slavery is an unjust institution because it deprives slaves of the fruits of their labor and is often inherited at birth.
Today, I was reading a report by the Urban Institute entitled "The Cost of Failure" which detailed what will happen if we don't pass health care reform.
There you go again Hiding beneath the tarp of black Thrown about you, a dirty cloak A slivered silhouette And now, now you throw crumbled leaves of words and images to stray us all to lose our whole All, only to disappear from duty and obligation to educate to contribute I am no poet I am no expert But to remain silent Would snuff out my light And allow the drunken, dark banter of a sliver, a fool to cast us back into darkness and disgrace, humiliation The cloak singes the temperature It sinks the soul and you, friend, are dancing along the fire you tiptoe on water's edge The sound of licking flames escapes you the roar of current is but a backdrop as you hide behind the color veil as you hide in the darkness.
Quite frankly, Tiffani Lewis-Lockheart, you chose to make your response article a personal attack; your efforts to mask disdain are fairly thin.
Have I ever been asked if I was an athlete? Yes. But believe me, there was no evident reason for doing so, other than me being a black male at this university.
I think everybody wants to believe in something. Whether it's a god or people or nature doesn't necessarily matter.
Listen, Bill, there is some sunshine when she's gone. Having said that, I agree with the notion, the feeling, the sentiment and your choice of background music.
When a difficult test is coming up in a particular class, the scenario is always the same: You and your fellow classmates are speckled across various locations conducive to studying on campus, with books spread out and eyes anchored down to pages. You run into each other, grunting the awkward "Hey," and sometimes (when there is a spare millisecond of time) even getting so personal with each other as to inquire about respective feelings pertaining to the coming exam.
So, you're on Facebook and you check your News Feed: Your best friend "had the BEST night everrrr & hearts," your roommate "is now friends with Barack Obama," and your lab partner "just became a fan of Macaroni and Cheese" - you know, nothing out of the ordinary. Then, you check your friend requests, and you are stunned to see your grandma's beautiful face on the computer screen.
Walking to class at 7:30 a.m. can be a pretty solitary experience. It's often cold (especially this winter), and usually the only other humans we see are a few class-goers.
When I decided to write a response to last week's "poem" I had to keep in mind not to make it something personal against the author Isaiah Bailey.
I applaud U.S. Sen. Jim Bunning. Not because he held up $10 billion from the unemployed. Not because he stood up to the Democrats.
Universities are places where everyone shares, or should share, at least one common objective: to learn.
After finally getting around to reading "Guyland," what can I say about Kimmel's assertions except that they are confusing?
Love. What does it really mean? The word is tossed to and fro like a baseball on a little-league field.
Since the beginning of time, people have been eating: apples, pears, TV dinners and frozen pizzas. We probably all started eating the same food - straight off a tree.