Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Middlebury Campus's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query.
2 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
(09/20/18 9:56am)
If, by chance encounter, our eyes meet in the sunlight as we pass one another on the slender walkways of campus, I invite you to give me a cordial smile and nod. Out of respect and, depending on who you are, perhaps deference, I will do the same. As the sun sets behind ‘The Knoll, or, the Organic Farm and a Bunch of Other Things That Also Happen Here (Please Continue to Fund Us),” and the shadows gain weight, so does my patience for niceties.
I have found others on this campus who understand the significance of nightfall. That once darkness hits and the moon glides gently past our eyes, the time for niceties ceases. We become solitary creatures, silhouettes rather than substantive beings. Unlike the moon, we wish our presence to be immaterial to the happenings of the darkness.
The odd duck, however, might find night to be a time for socializing, and this is a grave error I find in need of rectifying. This is all to say, if you see me on the pathway in front of Johnson at 1AM, do not make eye contact. Do not smile. Do not acknowledge my presence, for anyone who journeys out at night inherently does not wish to be seen.
These rules apply strictly to the natural world. Children, you may think yourselves clever, as it appears I have allowed for a loophole in my philosophy. Unfortunately for you, you are not more cleverer than I. For I have considered this, and will allow for the following exception: parties. Night may also be a time for revelry, and if you choose to spend the darkness bathed in the sticky sweat of others, I will not be the one to stand in your way.
However, if you find yourself journeying alone along the pathways at eventide, and think it smart to attempt to engage another solitary, you might consider thinking again. Author and fellow Oxfordian J. R. R. Tolkien wrote, “Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.” Well, I do not consider myself faithless, but I will mostly say farewell when the road darkens. In fact, I will dance a farewell dance and skip back to my cocoon, where I must rest and rejuvenate before beginning another day in full. It is in fact my opinion that Tolkien wrote Gimli as saying these lines as an indication that the author himself is not a total believer in what was written, since it is universally acknowledged that Gimli is only the fourth coolest and second sexiest member of the Fellowship (the first on both accounts being Gandalf.)
Anyway, who’s your favorite ghost? Mine is the ghost of Michael Furey from James Joyce’s “The Dead,” whose story is one of a love so powerful it leads to his demise. That or The Ghost of Captain Cutler from the episode “A Clue for Scooby Doo” of the original “Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!” It’s probably a tie. Feel free to send me correspondence of your favorite ghost. Just not at night on the pathways between campus edifices (ha-ha!)
(09/13/18 9:58am)
Editor’s Note: In this weekly column Charlotte Frankel will “review very important things on campus, such as the doors to Proctor (they should not have a double-entryway — this is dangerous and unnecessary!), the chairs in that one classroom on the first floor of Gifford, and much more."
Salutations, and welcome to the best day of your life. Although I have assured the editors of this fine newspaper that an introduction is not necessary, for I am very famous, they have told me this is neither ‘factual’ nor ‘appropriate.’ No matter, if you all must know who I am, so be it.
My name is Charlotte City-born of House Frankel, the Sunburnt, Queen of the Campus and the First Febs, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea (Battell Beach), Maker of the Inane, Mother of Wagons. You may feel free to use any of my above titles when addressing me.
I have been tasked with reviewing the most important happenings at Middlebury College for my remaining time here. I will bring you along on my journeys, as I stand between the two doors at the entrance to Proctor to see how many times I get hit (this is a safety HAZARD, and I am determined to prove it in an upcoming installment). Are you interested in the likelihood of being smushed betwixt the electronic racks in the bowels of the Davis “FAMILY” Library? I am, as well. In short, these in-depth reviews will be weekly examinations into the contemporary Middlebury zeitgeist.
Now that I have laid on my plan of attack for you, let my first official assessment commence. If I am to spend my remaining days passing judgment over others, then it is only fair that I begin by taking a hard look within myself. I shall do this, as is only appropriate, in sonnet form.
There exists a girl whose name is mine. She
Excels at enjambment. Some may think her
‘Foolish,’ but more like, from Shakespeare. I see
Myself for what I am: an amateur
At life, wading through the endless atoms.
I am, like you, recycled stardust. We’re
All the same, defined by local stratum.
My reflection is yours in the mirror.
Nature is cyclical. I once was. Now
I am rearrangéd, but here still. There
Is nothing in us inspiring a “Wow,”
More than anything that breathes the same air.
“Too serious,” you say, so I’ll tell you what,
I’ll end it with my favorite word: “butts.”
I found this process to be rather enlightening, and I hope you all did, too. Anything you would like to have reviewed or any inquiries, personal or otherwise, you may have can be directed to my manager, who at this point is also myself, at cefrankel@middlebury.edu. I look forward to changing the very fabric of this campus through the power of my words, and I am glad, nay thrilled, to have you all along for the ride.
Charlotte Frankel is a member of the Middlebury College class of 2018.5