Imagine you’re a refugee, or an immigrant, living in the United States. You work hard every day, delivering food so that you can make enough money to provide for your family, something I think most Americans can relate to. One day, you get a call to deliver food to a place you’ve gone to many times before. When you arrive however, they ask to see I.D. You can’t provide what they are asking for , you’re arrested.
What noise a walrus makes, how humpback whales have whiskers, why whale watching is important, and other ocean questions you maybe never thought to ask.
The Jesuits at the University of Central America carry on the legacy of Daniel Berrigan, S.J. and other anti-war activists.
I’ve been thinking about how to start this article for years. I don’t mean that as hyperbole. The first time I read a deadit I was a freshmen and the editor for the News section. I’d spent months reading articles about depressing news all over the world and nothing hit my heart quite as hard as raw emotion poured into these articles. I was nervous that I would never be quite as devoted as the staff writing these articles. Then the months went by and I fell in love with the paper and eventually the day came where I had to give up being a co-editor chief (shout out to all my incredible co-editors through the years, but especially actual real-life talented journalist, Luis motherfucking Gomez), leaving the paper felt like tearing a piece out of my heart. I haven’t come back to the print shop since I turned the lights off on my last day. I don’t know if I could ever take another last time in that place.
Sometimes less is more for a title ok? It’s also a reference ok? Get out.…
How did I get started with the paper? The same way I did everything at Fordham: chaotically, and with little planning involved. Like many of you, I scrambled to sign up for and try every club I could as a freshman. I remember being enticed by the weird but welcoming energy of the paper, like some avant-garde collective pulled from the pages of a Jack Kerouac novel. My interest was always casual – I was far too inexperienced at Photoshop to help on any design issues, so I slowly worked my way in through Earwax reviews and the occasional op-ed.
I think the strangest part about writing this is that I still can’t believe I actually even started writing for a Fordham campus newspaper. I waited until the beginning of my junior year to even try. I have some pretty vivid memories of my first paper meeting: one, I was terrified and two, I had way too many ideas. I actually managed to get two articles in my very first issue.
The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, almonds, and having meltdowns when meetings didn’t start exactly at 9:00. This will be my legacy at the paper which I got to be a part of for a combined 5 semesters during my Fordham career (yes I’m counting the semester I was in Rome).
During our last Christmas Paperfest, we had a secret Santa. I remember receiving a bowl sized mug with tequila shots and a bunch of other goodies in it. And then we signed everyone’s paper covers, writing personal notes to each other on them. I was happy-sad looking at what my friends wrote for me. These were people who get me. I didn’t have a lot of close friends growing up, and the ones that I did I never felt knew me. These guys did. I haven’t really told anyone but I cried when I got home.
But I still have a soft spot for the paper I remember and the one I know it can be. The one of free speech on a highly censored campus. The one that despite being of free speech took a stand against certain viewpoints that were intolerant or hurtful and worked with those writers to try to find less offensive ways to express themselves. We need that more than ever in this social political climate and I’m sure the paper has always been the only space I’ve seen on campus where that is even a possibility.