College students get carded
bad thing about any contest-from the august awarding of Nobel
Prizes to television's latest quiz show, The Weakest Link-is
that not everyone can be a winner. It's a lesson that most of
us learn early in life. We get over it. We suck it up. We try,
try again. And, once we're out of kindergarten, we're usually
self-composed enough to congratulate the person who comes out
spring when the Magazine ran a contest for graduating College
students, asking them to write on what they'll remember most about
their Chicago experience, we focused on the winner: we'd print
the essay that we liked best, and that would be that. Indeed,
"Picture This," in which Seth Endo, AB'01 (right), explains
his ingenious memory aid, appears in the feature, Picture
forgot that-as a mom or dad regularly reassures a toddler with
a bruised ego-not winning is not the same as losing. And so all
of the nonwinning essays contained at least one image, thought,
or paragraph that caught our attention. Here are two we wanted
Longo, AB'01, an English language & literature concentrator
from Laguna Niguel, California, remembers fondly the "Night
We Swam in the Law School Fountain": "Everyone stripped
down to their undergarments, except for me. I kept my jeans and
shirt on. We were splashing and singing and screaming, thoroughly
happy for once in our angst-ridden first-year lives. The next
thing we knew there was a bright light shining on us.
voice boomed out, 'I can see you.' We tried harder to be invisible.
The voice spoke again, 'I can see you. Send me your leader.' Since
everyone else was so scantily clad, I was forced to be the leader.
Sopping wet, I plodded over to the cop car, trying my darndest
to look innocent and like I was not sopping wet.
story has a U of C ending. It was spring, the officer himself
had been young once upon a time, and he issued not a ticket but
a benediction: "Well
go on being silly."
LeAnne Laux-Bachand, AB'01, an English language & literature
concentrator from New York City, the Quads are in the details.
Describing her daily walk from campus to Breckinridge, a soon-to-be-closed
dormitory at 1442 E. 59th Street, she notes, "On warm spring
afternoons I loved navigating the throngs of Lab School kids congregating
around the playground and ice-cream vendors. After International
House events I could overhear a variety of languages as clusters
of people spilled onto the sidewalk.
In the fall, soccer
lessons and their requisite orange cones occupy much of the Midway.
At Halloween, Harper Avenue prides itself rightly on its elaborate
decorations (one house boasts cardboard tombstones on its front
yard, carrying inscriptions like, 'I Told You I Was Sick').
at Doc and the annual Folk Festival are just down the street,
and when the bagpipers practice in the yard behind Ida Noyes you
can hear the warbling strains as you walk home.
Of all of
these features, though, I love the passing trains the best-soybean
oil and corn syrup in rattling tank cars, blue and gray Metra
cars coming and going from downtown, and the orange South Shore
line headed to and from Indiana. Many of the rooms in Breckinridge
would shake slightly with the passing of every train, and it felt
like we were somewhere important, a stopping point, and a destination."
BOOK, TWO AUTHORS
its April/01 "Investigations," the Magazine chose
to illustrate the article, "Sex Sells a Second Time,"
with a photograph of only one of the two researchers involved.
That choice may have given readers the impression that Edward
O. Laumann and Robert T. Michael are not equal coauthors of Sex,
Love, and Health in America (Chicago, 2000), and we regret