Anyone who says players these days are getting softer will have to answer to Coach Mitch.
It’s not whether you win or lose. It’s the pas de deux in the corner of the end zone.
I stare down at my phone, puzzled by the text. Activity swirls around me as I stand in my good friend Michelle Melland’s kitchen. I check the sender’s name and slowly turn around. Michelle ’88 lies eight feet away in a hospital bed, breathing through a tube inserted into a hole in her trachea and connected to a nearby ventilator.
Notre Dame once had its own railroad. Tucked behind the University power plant and crossing Douglas Road twice on the northern edge of campus, the Notre Dame & Western or ND&W ran from 1902 into the 1990s.
One of Notre Dame's most distinguished alumni speaks of his lifetime of learning and writing — what he found here and later finding what was missing.
It’s summer when I think about the Civil War. I think of childhood trips with dappled sunlight on Burnside’s Bridge at Antietam and the cool touch of Devil’s Den boulders at Gettysburg. So nostalgia, probably more than intellectual curiosity, is what led me to start reading James McPherson’s Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era.
A cult novel from the 1970s speaks to the turbulence of our own era.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. Who’s up for the license plate game?
The term “victim” aptly describes those in the thralls of addiction to pharmaceutical-grade opioids. To place the blame on the chemically dependent is to miss the larger picture.
It was the summer I trafficked in Coke. The best summer ever. 1970.
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man, and for one week in 1981 it showed up beneath a tree on South Quad.
I re-read the Ernie Pyle columns in Ernie’s America for many reasons. First, he was an outstanding writer who saw the story inside a person other people might ignore. And, like a lot of us, Pyle was curious. He earned his credibility because he saw things with his own eyes. He reported what he knew, without embellishment.
Good thing my realistic sense of self is still intact.
Exactly one year ago last Monday, I graduated from Notre Dame. What, already? How?!
I’d been hunting for a new fantasy author to read for a while when I came across the name Brent Weeks. He’s relatively new on the scene, with only one completed series and another halfway done. So I set about getting a copy of his finished The Night Angel Trilogy to see if I could add another author to my list of all-time favorites.
What we prize most here is integrity. And a high-flying tuck and flip.
When I was a child, I complained every time my grandfather listened to NPR in the car. I didn’t want to listen to adults talk about adult things like news and politics — I wanted to listen to The Backstreet Boys. Now, I still listen to The Backstreet Boys, but I’m also now addicted to talk radio and, by extension, podcasts.
Hey, I like my bubble. It’s warm and cozy in here.
While cervical cancer has dropped out of the top 10 cancer killers in most developed countries — thanks to a simple screening test, the Pap smear — it tops the list in Haiti, where Ange is my patient. Yet Ange’s story is no different from the stories of many women in the United States, particularly among the poor and uninsured.
While our heroes take a break backstage, the student body learns a valuable life lesson: There’s no better remedy for lofty aspirations than micromanagement.
I have an ongoing email exchange with a doctor in Pittsburgh whom I’ve never met. Every once in a while, out of the blue, I receive a thank-you note from Kurt Weiss ’97.
Father Bob Pelton went to Latin America to serve the people there, but he didn’t envision his work for social justice would put his life in danger — as subversive to government efforts there, and here.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. Back off, man! I’m a journalist.
Sophia Lyon Fahs’ Today’s Children and Yesterday’s Heritage: A Philosophy of Creative Religious Development is a wonder of a book, an argument for experiential learning first published in 1952, way ahead of its time.
Ah, incoming freshmen. There’s one born every minute.
The teachers in her elementary school may not have wanted her at all, Tara Hunt McMullen ’12 admits. They just wanted her mother’s famous soda bread.
I’ve read a lot of books where the authors try to put their own spin on a fairy tale. They’re usually well-written, and it’s always fun to try to spot the big twist. But the most beautiful take on a classic tale I have ever read is Marillier’s Sevenwaters trilogy.
Welcome to Molarity Redux, the continuing adventures of Jim Mole and friends. O Fates! The course registration Wheel of Fortune hath met the cold, hard reality of the marketplace.
Some years ago I decided that I would invite 10 students to my room in Dillon Hall one random evening. I blind copied all of them so no one knew who else was coming. I told them I would be serving pizza. And everyone would have an opportunity to tell the story of how they came to Notre Dame.