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(03/06/08 12:00am)
Author: Maddie Oatman I can't get away from Haruki Murakami. So much so that when I recently went to check out another one of his books, I didn't even have to look up the call number - I already knew exactly where I would find his shelf in the library. Murakami, a Japanese fiction writer who is heavily influenced by Western authors, appeals to me because his style is so smooth and direct. Or maybe because he often writes about young subjects. Or perhaps because sometimes I think his narrator has made an incision in my brain, seated himself inside my mind for the duration of the book and resolutely refused the infiltration of any outside thought. Murakami's characters take me over. And if the above metaphor about splicing open heads seems absurd, you obviously haven't read Murakami. He loves the bizarre and saturates his stories with gelatinous dimensions, disturbing conspiracies, fetishized objects and dreams that crack open like eggs and ooze into the realm of the real. And somehow he makes it possible for us to navigate through such surreal circumstances and psychologically aberrant characters to end up grounded in modern-day Tokyo. Murakami can stray eons away from reality, disassemble logic with a vicious precision and still enter my core to leave me feeling deeply unsettled about everyday life. Take "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles," translated by Jay Rubin. The main character, Toru Okada, leads a mundane life in a Tokyo suburb with his wife Kumiko. Toru is the prototype of passivity-he's unemployed. "Not that I had quit for any particular reason. I didn't dislike the work," he narrates, and spends the days cooking and putzing around the house (Book 1: The Thieving Magpie). His life begins to unravel when his cat goes missing, his wife disappears and mysterious phone calls lead him into a world of ulterior dimensions. Toru acquires a blue-black mark on his cheek and attracts the attention of characters such as the morbid but chirpy 17-year-old May Kasahara, the elusive medium Malta and her sister Creta and a woman under the pseudonym Nutmeg, whose son goes by Cinnamon. In order to contact his wife, Toru must face her charismatic yet manipulative older brother Norboru Wataya, a politician who charms his way to worrisome degrees of power. Wataya's evil poses the most concrete threat in the novel, yet we also get the sense that much of the trouble Toru endures stems from inexplicable forces outside of his control. It's as if layers of unrest - some rooted in trauma left over from the Japanese involvement in World War II, some the products of a stagnating and numb bourgeoisie - have unlatched the fastenings of Toru's world. "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles" is a literary Cirque du Soleil, complete with symbolic animals, wildly dressed prophets and narratives that begin to destabilize our perception of linear time. If you are intimidated by the fantastical elements of Murakami's more surrealist novels, at least try "Norwegian Wood." It has long been a favorite in Japan, and the popularity of the novel when it was published in 1987 lent Murakami a cult-like following among national readers and international audiences alike. "Norwegian Wood" marked a departure from Murakami's usual hallucinatory storytelling. As the author writes, "Many of my readers thought that "Norwegian Wood" was a retreat for me, a betrayal of what my works stood for until then. For me personally, however, it was just the opposite: it was an adventure, a challenge. I had never written that kind of straight, simple story and I wanted to test myself." On the surface, "Norwegian Wood" does seem more straightforward. "Once upon a time, many years ago - just twenty years ago, in fact - I was living in a college dormitory," reminisces Murakami's narrator, the stoic and humble Watanabe. The novel's emotional force however, is anything but simple. Set in 1960s Japan, "Norwegian Wood" explores the equally perplexing realms of sexuality and grief. Watanabe, an unremarkable college student, falls in love with the distant but beautiful Naoko. Naoko's emotional instability, however, leads her to check into a sanatorium in the mountains, where she meets the wrinkled Reiko, a musician with the capacity to comfort Naoko in Watanabe's absence. As Naoko's mental state deteriorates, Watanabe struggles to reconcile his undying love for her with his undeniable attraction to the lively and loquacious Midori, who he describes as emitting a "fresh and physical life force. She was like a small animal that has popped into the world with the coming of spring." Along with this untraditional love story, "Norwegian Wood" explores the innards of loss and regret, the fragility of human sanity and the insurmountable abysses that can consume even the most precious among us. I could go on and on. Murakami has never failed to engross me with his intuitive storytelling, from "Kafka on the Shore" to "Sputnik Sweetheart."Never have I read an author who forces me to transcend my concept of reality, temporality and consciousness, my national and cultural context, my own gender for chrissake, with such ease. His characters leap off the page and become my world. Read Murakami, become drenched in his genius and prepare to lift off from your life as you know it.
(03/06/08 12:00am)
Author: [no author name found] High school takes you "Back to the 80s"At 7:30 p.m. on Friday, March 7, as well as on the 8th and 9th, Middlebury Union High school will be performing a musical extravaganza entitled "Back to the 80s," a play that follows the senior class of William Ocean High School. So if you just simply cannot get your fill of Orange Crush performances and late-night 80s-themed dances in McCullough, you might consider heading over to the local high school auditorium for a bit of entertainment this weekend before making your way to The Bunker. Tickets cost $6 for adults and reservations can be made by calling 802-388-1192.Wildlife Tracking in SalisburyOn March 8 from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. join Greg Borah, local wildlife tracker, on an exploration of the Salisbury Municipal Forest. The wildlife tracking and sign expedition will start across from the Salisbury landfill on Upper Plains Road, perhaps so that you will fully appreciate the beauty that is nature that remains untouched by man. Should more snow fall between now and Saturday and accumulate to more than eight inches deep, it is recommended that you bring snowshoes along. Warning: short sections of the trek require somewhat strenuous climbing, so be prepared to work for your wildlife appreciation.Rock'n St. Paddy's Dance in VergennesIf you are itching to celebrate St. Patrick's Day before the holiday actually arrives, you might consider attending the Rock'n St. Paddy's Dance in Vergennes on March 8, starting at 8 p.m. The festivitites will take place at the Vergennes Opera House and will include music by The Hit Men, a cash bar, a raffle, and what they advertise as "munchies, leprechaun limbo, limericks galore and more." How exactly the leprechaun limbo differs from regular limbo is rather unclear, but if chicken limbo exists, why not. To celebrate St. Patty's Day with the Vergennes Rotary Club, make sure you call 802-877-6737 to purchase your tickets. Adults cost $15 and couples are $25.Open Barn in WeybridgeOn March 9, Duclos and Thompson Farm will be hosting its annual Open Barn event on Sheep Farm Road in Weybridge. Stop by the farm to ooh and ahh over more than 350 lambs and kids as well as 300 full-grown animals. Also on display will be a barn mural painted by Danielle Rougeau. This event is free and open to the public and the only price you will pay is if you miss out on this opportunity to see lots of adorable animals - and, oh yeah, you might return to campus with the pungent scent of eau de manure hovering about you.Child Labor Talk If you caught a glimpse of the Lewis Hine photo exhibit on display at the Henry Sheldon Musuem, you might be interested in attending a talk given by Joe Manning, an author and historian who has been researching the child laborers depicted in Hine's photographs. Manning will discuss his nationally known attempts to track down the living descendents of those pictured. The talk will take place on March 9 at 2 p.m. at the musuem. General admission is $5. For more information, call 802-388-2117.
(02/21/08 12:00am)
Author: [no author name found] syn·es·the·sia from the Greek (syn-) union, and (aesthesis) sensation; is the neurological mixing of the senses. A synesthete may, for example, hear colors, see sounds - and taste tactile sensations.A small group of bedraggled Middlebury constituents pulled up to the New England Chapter of the 2008 American College Dance Festival on a dreary Thursday over February break. After milling around the grey grounds of Connecticut College, we made our way to catch the end of the first round of student performances at Palmer Auditorium, a somber modern building that sits on the edge of the strip. After a few 10-minute student performances in various genres and stages of evolution, and all with apparently unbounded costuming budgets, the lights came up. Middlebury Professor of Dance Andrea Olsen miraculously appeared to meet us in the mezzanine, making an affectionate sweep of the rows of red velvet seats below. In this very theatre - she told us, her eyes widening - Merce Cunningham had made his debut of Wintersong. A solid hour of darkness on stage save a few random flickers of light, revealing a shoulder here, an ankle there. Everyone but a few brave souls had walked out. (She had been counted among the brave, whether by accident or choice, as she was ushering at the theatre that night.) This place had witnessed greatness. It had witnessed tomfoolery - and often probably something bordering on the two.Rising in animated gangs from the audience were a few hundred dancing co-eds from state, community and private schools across the Northeast, some in matching Olympian tracksuits. Handfuls of semi-famous dance figures were strewn about in the crowd. Seated at an improvised plywood table loaded with tangerines and water bottles were the three adjudicators of the conference: the radiant Bebe Miller, the slender tapper Thomas DeFrantz and JoAnna Mendl Shaw, the fierce contemporary choreographer most recently known for her dances with horses.Over the next few days, conference attendees alternately attended three technique classes a day, hunted out Holiday Inn hallways in which to practice the dances they'd brought to perform, sat through three-hour long sessions of student showcases and then listened to equally rigorous analyses of those works from the adjudicators. One way or another, there was a lot of dancing. A troupe of immaculate ballet-dancers from Harvard presented a very geometrical dance en pointe to Phillip Glass. A Rutgers graduate student stood for many minutes in front of a video projector shaking her head wildly and there was a rumor that one of the girls in the pink-taffeta number lost her cookies on stage (her cover-up was first-class). Among the highlights of the student offerings was a disarmingly witty commentary on modern dance from Hampshire College, which included four dancers galloping around stage singing "we don't dance to music, we don't dance to music" and holding up cardboard signs with slogans like "I don't get it." A deafeningly dark piece from Connecticut College was performed in 1950s prep school outfits. A duet from Middlebury College, which was among those chosen to continue to the National Chapter in New York this June, paired the athletic power of Simon Thomas-Train '09 and the dynamism of pint-sized Yina Ng '09 in a fiery and sensual duel.At the adjudication session on Saturday morning, the three judges reflected on a tension they'd noticed throughout the weekend - the distinction between movement that is decorative and movement that is somehow more significant. Even throughout the radicalism of earlier decades - the days of Wintersong - dance has precariously skirted the line between spectacle and statement, struggling to balance artistic progressivism with the necessities of ticket sales and a sense of humor. Today, there's Momix doing fabulous stunts in baseball uniforms, but there's also plenty of humanity, political outrage and minimalism in the dance world. The judges wondered why Harvard had regressed to the forms of the early 19th century, but they also wondered whether significance meant meaning or meaning meant significance, and whether you needed either to make an arabesque worthwhile. We left the lecture room feeling as though we'd been in a wrestling match - provoked, restless, glowing.At a talkback on the final afternoon of the conference, DeFrantz put the question of aesthetics and ethics aside. Turning to his own life, he mentioned that he had been working doggedly on a project for five years, a project based on the belief that "beauty is entirely productive." It was with this assumption in mind that a few hundred dancers dispersed from New London on Sunday morning, returning quietly to their studios to start generating pieces for next year.
(02/21/08 12:00am)
Author: Kelly Janis We serve as the gateway to rural Vermont's heritage," said Assistant Director of Billings Farm & Museum David Miles, straining to be heard over the insistent "bah"s of animals congregating at the edges of their pens following the "How to Keep a Sheep" workshop in which they starred.var uslide_show_id = "d8ca0a37-a689-426b-8e9c-f6bc41ed6043";var slideshowwidth = "468";var linktext = "";Such a distraction was to be expected at the farm and museum's Sleigh Ride Weekend, held from Feb. 16-18 in Woodstock, Vt. at the working farm, dating back to 1871, which aims to preserve tradition while adopting sustainable, progressive practices. The event afforded visitors the opportunity to embark on chilly sleigh rides propelled by horses Jim and Joe, whiz down an embankment on "jack jumper" sleds, tour a farmhouse restored to its 1890 prime and watch presentations ranging from "Up Close With a Jersey Cow" to "On Behalf of a Calf" and "Machine Milking of the Herd."In an on-site theater, the farm and museum's rich history was expounded upon in twice-hourly screenings of "A Place in the Land," Charles Guggenheim's 1998 Academy Award-nominated film chronicling the landmark's development, and its commitment to conveying humankind's "obligation to live in harmony with [nature] and to pass it on, enriched, to future generations."The vision espoused in "A Place in the Land" is one to which the farm and museum's employees ardently subscribe."We play a significant role locally in terms of tourism, and also in terms of education," Miles said. "People come here, and they learn more about Vermont, other ideas, other areas to explore."This process of education extends to those who assist in facilitating it.After he retired last year from his post as Assistant Director of Gift Planning at Dartmouth College, Rick Carbin - who spent the day loading passengers onto a horse-drawn sleigh for a seven-minute ride around the farm's grounds - sought to occupy his time in a manner he found meaningful. "I didn't just want to put my legs up and rest," he said.That pursuit, coupled with his background in land-use planning and conservation, brought him to Billings Farm & Museum. "It's a great place to come just to recreate and meet good folks who are working on the farm," Carbin said. "And for the larger community, it's a real lesson. The history of this farm is one of conservation and stewardship, and that tradition continues today. There's a lot to learn, a lot to see, and it's something vital to the future."Carbin reported that the day was proceeding smoothly, with the exception of an inevitable hitch every now and again. "I do a program on where the milk goes, and we have a vacuum pump you're supposed to plug in so you can show how artificial machine working works," he explained. "Well, the vacuum pump blew up [during the demonstration]."Alongside these unexpected turns, the museum strives to inject its operations with vitality by infusing events with elements well-aligned with the season. In this vein, the visitors' center marked President's Day weekend by pairing their offering of hot spiced cider with "Favorite Cookies of the Presidents." Grace Coolidge's nutty and delicious Ice Box Cookies were a daily fixture, accompanied on a rotating basis by Rutherford B. Hayes's Hermits, Grover Cleveland's Snickerdoodles, Zachary Taylor's Black Pepper Cookies, Franklin Pierce's New Hampshire Seed Cookies, George Washington's Jumbals and Ulysses Grant's Lemon Drops.Katie Brobst, 11, of Randolph, Vt., spent the weekend relishing her station as a "junior volunteer," working alongside museum staff to dole out the coveted cookies and assist youngsters in piecing together presidential silhouettes with paper, glue and scissors."It's a lot of fun," Brobst said. "I really enjoy it."Much of her enjoyment was admittedly cultivated by the benefits to which Brobst is privy in exchange for the contribution of time. "When you volunteer here in the summer, you get a free ice cream," she said.When a fellow volunteer reminded her that they are responsible for the task of eating the broken leftovers during the museum's donut sales, Brobst agreed that such a fact also proves a compelling draw. Her eagerness did not immediately extend, however, to the sleigh rides taking place outside."I did that last year," she said. "It was raining, so it was a wet blanket [in the sleigh] instead of a warm one."Assuming that the rain remains sufficiently at bay to retain the blanket's warmth - and even if it does not - those who are in search of a supplement to Winter Carnival ski-gazing are in luck: Billings Farm & Museum will repeat its sleigh ride festivities this weekend, furnishing those who missed out on indulging in Snickerdoodles and jack jumpers on President's Day an opportunity to slosh their way through glistening white fields before the frost recedes. The event will be the final opportunity to visit the farm and museum prior to the kick-off of its regular season on May 1.If you go, here are some details you should know:Billings Farm & Museum Sleigh Ride WeekendDates: Feb. 23 and 24Time: 10 a.m.-4 p.m., both daysCost: $11 for adultsPhone number: (802)-457-2355Address: Route 12 & River Road P.O. Box 489, Woodstock, VT 05091-0489Directions: •Travel 32 miles south on US-7.•In Rutland, turn left onto Woodstock Ave/US-4 East. Continue for 30 miles.•Travel a half mile north of the town of Woodstock. Turn left on Route 12 North, and bear right on River Road to arrive at Billings Farm's main entrance.
(02/21/08 12:00am)
Author: Andrea Glaessner What brings Vermonters together better than cheddar and apples? The answer is local. "Local food" was the theme which dominated Monday night's discussion at Ilsey Public Library of Barbara Kingsolver's latest book "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." The book tells the story of the author and her family, who committed to living and sustaining off their own farm and local food in Virginia for one year. There were exceptions, of course, like dried fruit, turmeric and coffee, which were ordered from fair trade organizations working with growers in Africa, Asia and South America. But the message in the book is that eating local food, not organic, vegan or vegetarian, is the best way to be healthy and green in a world where rising oil prices are pressuring individuals and communities to become increasingly sustainable and self-reliant. That message was the common thread that brought farmers, students, vegetarians, Kingsolver-followers and farmer's market "groupies" together to discuss the book and ideas about living locally in Vermont.The discussion began with an introduction by Kristin Bolton - the organizer for Ilsey book discussions - of the discussion moderators, Michelle McCauley, associate professor of Psychology, and Jay Leshinsky, the adviser to the College's organic garden. After a few welcoming words, the leaders handed off the discussion to the members of the group, inviting everyone to introduce themselves and a particular piece of the book they felt was important.It was clear from the introductions that the range of interest in local food was vast. Bay Hammond, a founding member of the Addison County Relocalization Network (ACoRN), read the book not only to "learn about the journeys of other families living locally" but also to discuss Addison County's own rising local food movement. In particular, Hammond announced that ACoRN had recently put up a Web site that gets local farms in touch with local customers electronically. According to Hammond, the Web site allows customers to order locally-grown food online which would then be delivered weekly to the lawn in front of American Flatbread.Hammond's Web site announcement sparked excitement in the crowd especially from the so-called farmers' market "groupies."Carol Calhoun, a self-proclaimed farmers' market enthusiast who compared the farmers' market to a candy store, felt that the market was not just a place to find delicious and healthy food, but was also, perhaps more importantly, "a great social event."Enthusiastic agreement resounded from the group as more members discussed this notion of the local food movement as a community builder. Another woman pointed to the phenomenon of bartering and sharing with neighbors. She discussed how canning has put her in touch with a whole group of individuals with similar interests and a wealth of information to tap into related to "putting food by."Ideas were tossed about, like popping corn in a hot tin. One woman, Berry Bailey, a heritage turkey farmer, brought up the idea of mentoring. That, she explained, was how she herself came to produce her own organic garden. Other members felt a sense of urgency to embrace local food now, as the food system faced impending doom. John Ball, highlighting the "green" aspect of local food, called the group to "see local food as a way we are going to have to move in the future." Less a choice and more a necessity, other members agreed with the idea that resource scarcity may eventually push us, ready or not, to depend on local food for sustenance and survival. The conversation soon shifted to the humane treatment of animals and its relationship with local food. Arguments were made pertaining to the problem of government stipulations on slaughterhouses. According to Hammond, there are many restrictions and regulations involved in legally slaughtering and selling animals, some of which are simply benefiting the macro-agro business and hurting small local farmers. "I saw the news about the California beef recall," said Hammond, "and I thought, and they're scared of us?" McCauley nodded in agreement, adding, "I feel like I should have the right to decide if I want to buy meat from my own neighbor."Jan Ball runs her own farm and is actively working on plans to develop a "model" sustainable, local farm run by women that can buy up other Vermont farms and set a model for other farms. In her spare time, she is raising chickens on her own farm. She shared her sentiments about the importance of "compassionate animal slaughtering." "There's nothing like having a relationship with your chickens and then killing them compassionately," explained Ball. "In fact, I've watched my chickens become compassionate chickens. When you are compassionate to them, they become compassionate to each other."The urgency felt by members of the group to live green and responsibly raised the issue of the educational system and its tendency to exclude teaching children about farming, gardening and healthy food from the curriculum. A few students from the College were in attendance, and one student described her plans to get farming and gardening programs into the schools, or at least offer the activity as an extra-curricular opportunity for young children. "You shouldn't have to sacrifice education for eating good, healthy food," echoed one member of the group.The group also discussed themselves as supporters of the local food movement, and recognized a few of the problems with eating locally, mainly regarding accessibility and costs. Hillary Gerardi '08 shared an anecdote about visiting a friend in New York City and feeling two forms of guilt when making a decision about what to eat for dinner. "I felt guilty because I'm not buying local food for this one meal," Gerardi explained, "but also because I realized that there are huge communities of people out there who don't even have the opportunity to make the choice to eat locally and connect with farmers like we do here in Vermont."The group discussed local food from the book to themselves to the communities that do it and the ones that cannot. Because, after all, bringing it all home and putting it out on the table is what the Localvores, an increasingly visible sub-culture in Vermont, are all about.
(01/10/08 12:00am)
Author: Douglas Sisson "Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me sometime?" A simple question with various interpretations and unfortunately as close as it gets to a formal date here at Middlebury College. Even then, how many of you can claim to have actually gotten this far? Exactly. As full-time students attending a small liberal arts college in rural Vermont, meeting new people is limited by place and opportunity.Dating takes time. A student's academic workload is the number one priority. Next, athletics, wellness, clubs, activities and sleep each compete for an already limited amount of time. We are human beings with basic sexual and emotional needs. Thus, dating is an investment of time with the prospect of establishing either a regular physical rendezvous or an emotionally engaging relationship. Each is a viable option and actively pursued by students here at the College. The only problem is that, while everyone considers dating, few people actually do it.Without a city nearby, our attention is almost exclusively focused inward upon the College. As if the pickings were not slim enough, the Faculty Council is considering a new policy aimed at prohibiting sexual relations between students and faculty. However, our administration cannot control our minds, so feel free to continue fantasizing about your favorite professors during class.So where do students meet people to date? Parties and mutual friends are common ways to meet new people. Showing interest in someone from across a room typically involves excessive body language, strategic glances and flirting. Consuming alcohol is an effective social lubricant at this point because it lowers one's inhibitions. Still, the relentless game of hard-to-get makes trying to get a simple point across - "I want to make-out with you" - an anxiety-producing labyrinth with little hope of any clear or definitive answer.Fear of rejection is what keeps people from verbally expressing interest in one another. As a result, dining halls become havens for curious stares while mutual friends serve as unofficial liaisons in a relentless game of triangulation. This is cute in moderation but after awhile I just want to say: "Will you two just sleep with each other already!"A Facebook friend request is an efficient and private method of showing interest in someone. In fact, I'd argue that online communication - e-mail, Facebook, AIM - is the most clear-cut and effective technique of getting an immediate response to see if your prospective crush sees you as someone on their platonic radar. Accepting someone as a friend does not mean you want to sleep with them. Overtly flirting with someone is less stressful when two people are at least 'friends' on Facebook. Poking someone on Facebook is always an option but its meaning is somewhat vague. Here's a better idea: walk up to the person you are interested in and actually have a conversation with them face-to-face.Assuming the person is at least somewhat interested in you, the places and opportunities to go on a date are still limited. A close friend of mine once asked a crush to go "feed the horses" with her as an alternative to a date. I'd personally rather be riding the horses with a picnic basket and expertly chosen wine. One can dream, right? Either way, a creative date has the potential to reap greater benefits.Dating is not necessary in one's undergraduate career. After all, students can choose to take the advice of the SNL Spartan cheerleaders: "Sex can wait, just masturbate!" And for those hoping to intimately cuddle with someone, you're probably better off sleeping with a stuffed animal. Still, it is a new year. Why not channel the energy used to explore online pornography and ask someone out on an alternative date? Of course, you might want to buy a bigger mattress before getting rid of your stuffed animal.Douglas Sisson '07.5 is an International Studies/Latin America major from Oak Brook, Ill.
(01/10/08 12:00am)
Author: Kelly Janis Cat lovers pounced on a purr-fect opportunity to bond with some of the finest of the fuzzy creatures in question at the 11th Annual Vermont Fancy Felines Cat Show, held Jan. 5 and 6 at the Sheraton Conference Center in Burlington. The show - which each year attracts animals and owners from across the United States and, in some cases, the world - is one of several similar to it organized by the Cat Fanciers' Association, "dedicated to the preservation of the pedigreed cat, and to enhancing the well-being of all cats."var uslide_show_id = "8d44aa2d-57b5-4dc6-93ee-73e597ab27f5";var slideshowwidth = "468";var linktext = "";At the Sheraton this weekend, visitors milled around energetically, proudly displaying the blue paw print stamped on their hand to signal admission as they mingled with row after row of 30 distinct feline breeds. Some of the crates in which the cats rested as they awaited their turn with the judges were plastered with ribbons boasting of such accolades as "7th Best in Premiership" and signs announcing "Kittens for Sale!", while others sounded such grave warnings as "do not touch - your kind affection may spread infection!"Meanwhile, vendors were on hand to furnish cat lovers with their every need, no matter how obscure - from a woman wearing black clothing and a sober expression, standing at a table of pet tombstones and speaking in hushed tones to a sparse selection of passers-by about "your cat's final arrangements," to purveyors of the more ordinary combs, brushes, litter, catnip, books, furniture and obligatory "I love my cat" bumper stickers.In addition to the show, Vermont Fancy Felines held a Saturday night auction of homemade Vermont crafts to benefit the Humane Society of Chittenden County.At the heart of the weekend for many, however, was the accumulation of the ribbons necessary to attain - or maintain - "champion" status in subsequent shows.According to Brian Moser, who traveled from Oregon to serve as a judge, each breed of cat is rated on the basis of unique criteria, though factors such as structure, color and eye and ear shape are typically paramount.The top 10 cats in a given category then converge to be presented to the audience, in commentary about each competitor's "sleek coat" and "long body," interspersed with spontaneous, cooing side conversations with the animal under scrutiny: "you're doing so well for your first show!" to the kitten whose proud owner announced that she was a newcomer to the scene, and "you sure like to talk, don't you?" to the silver long-hair cat who would not stop meowing into the presenter's microphone during the Parade of Breeds.Win or lose, cat owners reap valuable benefits from such shows."It's a great thing for anybody to get into," said Susan Bowers, who had been showing cats for the past eight years. "It's a lot of fun. It's an expensive hobby, but it's worth it for the love of the cats.""This little Siamese is the pearl of my life," said Elaine VanAvery as she peered into the crate in front of her. She described her pastime as a welcome diversion from the daily grind. "You forget all of problems you have during the week in your real world, in your job. And it's nice chatting with people who share a common interest."But do matters ever turn, ahem, catty?"There's a higher level of competition than people want to openly admit," VanAvery said. "We have a competitive instinct. It's there."When asked whether a spirit of camaraderie or competition prevails, Moser was quick to concur. "It's a great community, and they have their social events," he said. "But there isn't a person here who doesn't want to become a champion."
(12/06/07 12:00am)
Author: Ashley Gamell One afternoon over Thanksgiving break, I was elbowing my way through the MoMa's collection of charcoal drawings by Georges Seurat, the French master of pointillist color and light (open through January 7). A swell of people edged along the gallery perimeter, squinting at the small mounted sketches with their arms crossed. The drawings are brooding and intense, their shadowy contents recalling the oppressive sensuality of the Paris underworld in the days of Toulouse-Lautrec. The subjects, mostly men and women, emerge out of a web of black strokes, like objects in a vacuum. The museum visitors inspected the walls in a tense silence, tracing the discipline of an artist searching desperately for a new form of representation. I took a long gander at a refreshing pastel study for "Sunday afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte," then moved on into the open air of MoMa's other major installation, a retrospective on the contemporary African-American sculptor Martin Puryear (open through January 14). In this gallery, things were different - people paced, circled, and chatted enthusiastically around Puryear's huge wood and mesh sculptures. Children's voices and footsteps rang out in the maze. The rooms were warm, full of the scents of pine and cedar and the crisp, elegant lines of fine craftsmanship. The clutter of luminous, geometric objects seemed to radiate energy and conversation.Puryear skirts around definition as an artist - he is alternately witty, confrontational and abstract. The spare tidbits of text in the exhibit tell the visitor that he is concerned with colonialism, has lived and sculpted in Africa with the Peace Corps, as well as in Asia and Europe and gathers inspiration from various disciplines, such as technology and natural history. Otherwise, he remains in obscurity. A gelatinous mound of painted black wood entitled "Self" looms off to the side of one gallery room, its shape undulating under the light. As you draw nearer to it, the life-size form shifts mischievously and yet appears opaque, withholding. This is the sensation that pervades all of Puryear's works. They refuse to ascribe to a single interpretation but ooze with possibilities for each onlooker. These limitless layers of meaning create what the artist calls "a flickering quality"- it's what makes these massive, imaginative sculptures as spellbinding for the scholars as they are for the toddlers.The captions around the gallery give the impression that there are specific historical and cultural issues behind each piece, but most of the time, Purvear's not telling. "It gives me great pleasure to feel there's a level that doesn't require [this] knowledge," he remarked in 1978. However, if you're looking, some of the works can be quite political: "C.F.A.O.," named after the acronym for The French Company of West Africa, a 19th century colonial trading company, consists of an indigenous African masked ensconced in a towering wooden matrix, being carted away on a wheelbarrow. Other sculptures feature chain links or "levers" raised magically into the air, as though being held up by an invisible workforce, a laboring nation unseen by museum-goers. A gorgeously wrought ladder rising thirty-six feet into the air, winding and narrowing so that it seems to disappear into the heavens, is called "Ladder for Booker T. Washington."And yet, many pieces remain staunchly untitled, taunting the viewer who looks to the little white plaque for a clue with which to narrow and identify the work. Puryear is creating objects that look useful - great wheels and combs, painstakingly hewn and polished - but the magic comes precisely from the fact that they cannot be put to a specific use. His works affirm Dickinson's claim, "success in circuit lies"- they circle ideas without ever falling into an agenda.Puryear's balancing act between art and politics reminded me of a recent exhibit at Middlebury's Johnson Memorial Building: May Mantell's "Animals (a requiem)." Environmentalism, like colonialism, is a priori issue at Middlebury: we all agree that living creatures are intrinsically valuable, just as we all agree that the West has been naughty. That makes it an interesting place for an exhibit that advocates a vegetarian approach. Mantell's twenty black-and-white photographs are mainly of dead animals - a pile of wolves after a hunting derby or a glassy-eyed roadside deer. The accompanying quotes, like the sad, majestic images, convince us to adopt "a boundless ethic that will include the animals also." The problem here is that we were already convinced. Mantell is best when she does not harp on her message but instead focuses on the visuals merits of her subjects, their geometries and patterns. "Pigeon," photographed here in Middlebury, is more homage than tearjerker. Wings tucked in symmetrically, eyes closed peacefully as though in sleep, the bird attests to the grace of natural forms, prevailing even against death. In "Deer Remains," the still-elegant legs of a long-gone deer resurface out of a heap of straw, striking an eerie visual harmony with their burial place. "Animals" demonstrates that a political message is often best served by artworks that depict things just as they are. Like the dark masses of thighs and hats in Seurat's drawings, the curve of a wing or a speckled underbelly in Mantell's more objective images speak for themselves. These photos don't dictate a predetermined response - they stun with a peculiar physical beauty, giving rise to emotions that hover in a grey area somewhere near reverence. Both Mantell and Puryear's works navigate the border between art for art's sake and art for the world's sake. I would argue that they succeed when they are foremost works of art: precision can be a more powerful form of political protest than protest itself. In the richness of an ambiguous image and the tension of a mysterious object, an artist can reveal something new in the universe, something more subtle than West and East, living and dead, good and evil. This is the same end Seurat was struggling towards in his hundreds of small dark drawings - a moment of enlightenment that changes the world.
(11/15/07 12:00am)
Author: Will Mallett The Middlebury Area Land Trust (MALT) conducted a wild apple tree release workshop in the Murdock Woods on Nov. 10 as part of an ongoing series of workshops designed to benefit both the Trail Around Middlebury (TAM) and the volunteers who participate. The afternoon event was both recreational and educational, beginning with a short hike to what had been an oppressed apple tree on the edge of the TAM. The group proceeding to liberate that tree from the brush, alders and rot to which it had been subjected. MALT, which has conserved some 2,600 acres in the greater Middlebury area and manages the 16-mile TAM, conducts such workshops and "hike-days" on a regular basis. "They're very popular with families and with retirees like myself," said a young lady who volunteered on Saturday. The half-dozen volunteers who participated each had their bit of wisdom to impart, about arboriculture in general as well more specific tree-pruning techniques. But the foremost expert in the field was Bill Suhr, who led the workshop. Nominally, Suhr is the owner of Champlain Orchards in Shoreham, although his relationship with that establishment is unclear. "Sometimes it seems more like the orchard owns me," he said. Suhr's status as an expert in the field, however, is quite clear. On the trek to relieve the besieged apple tree, he entertained the corps with snippets of apple-related lore and wisdom. Explaining the process of "grafting," by which a strain of apple is reproduced and maintained, he alluded to the American folkloric hero who may have brought that practice to this continent. "Johnny Appleseed, who we believe actually existed, was really more of a real-estate tycoon than a horticulturalist," he said. "What few people realize is that if you plant a seed from a McIntosh apple, there is a 99.9 percent chance you will not get a McIntosh tree," Suhr said, explaining the grafting process by which a McIntosh tree would be reproduced. "Appleseed" may thus have been an entrepreneur with grafting expertise who used his knowledge to practice an early form of environmentally-responsible capitalism. The focus of the workshop was not ancient folklore and historical speculation, however, but rather direct action in the present. Volunteers had their minds on practical goals. "We're trying to create a healthier atmosphere for a tree that might bear some fruit, and provide some forage for animal life," said Suhr of the group's mission. The emphasis of this effort was the physical emancipation of one particular tree, although the principles used to diagnose and treat the tree are more generally applicable to fruit trees in general, and wild apple trees in particular. It was a more or less healthy tree, showing great potential, yet one on which years of neglect had taken their toll. There was some black rot evident in some of the limbs, and encroaching vegetation had begun to smother the tree. The shade of neighboring pines and alders had begun to deprive the poor fellow of the sunlight necessary to its prosperity. "Wet feet," evidenced by the moss on the nearby ground, further put the tree at an unfair disadvantage. Enter Suhr. Showing great wisdom, skill and alacrity, the seasoned professional directed the removal of inhibiting brush and the clearing of nearby limbs with the goal of increasing the tree's exposure to sunlight, which would invigorate the tree as well as dry the ground around its root system. "Apple trees like dry feet," he said. Pruning the tree itself was also a matter of great importance, according to Suhr, and the late fall and early winter is the best time to do it. "You should prune when a tree is dormant," Suhr said. "Pruning invigorates a tree, but you want to do it when the nutrients have retreated from the extremities so you don't lose them." The resuscitation of a tree should be a cautious, patient process, however. "It should be done over a period of time," said Suhr. "You can do too much pruning in a year and send a tree into vigorous reactionary growth," which damages the tree's fragile equilibrium. Thus instructed, the volunteers worked enthusiastically but cautiously on Saturday, breathing new life into an aged specimen of Johnny Appleseed's progeny. The event can be seen as yet another modest yet decisive victory in MALT's regional crusade to conserve and enhance the local landscape.
(11/15/07 12:00am)
Author: [no author name found] Ten Thousand Villages Craft SaleOn Nov. 16 and 17, the Memorial Baptist Church, located at 97 S. Pleasant Street, will hold a craft sale featuring fair trade products from around the world. "At Ten Thousand Villages, we work with over 100 artisan groups in more than 30 countries in Africa,Asia and Latin America to bring you fair trade jewelry, home decor, gifts and more," says the company's Web site. "As one of the world's oldest and largest fair trade organizations,we build long-term relationships with artisans thatare based on mutual understanding and respect. Fair trade enables artisans to earn a fair wage and provides the opportunity for a better quality of life." For more information about the sale, call 453-5583.Apple Pie Pick-Up in VergennesThanksgiving is all about pie. Well, fine, maybe family and gratitude and harvests and turkey dinners play some semblance of a role, too ... but pie certainly enhances the whole affair. That being the case, snag a 10-inch apple pie for $10 from the Champlain Valley Christian School, available for pick-up between 1 and 3 p.m. on Nov. 17. Be sure to order in advance by calling Martha at 877-3009, and, with all due fairness, save room for the pumpkin pie.Kids Movie Day at IlsleyIf braving midterms and surviving to Thanksgiving break has drained you of all of your psychological resources and left you at a childlike mentality level, head on down to Ilsley Library at 10:30 a.m. on Nov. 21. The library promises "an animated Disney movie, 95 minutes long, with a G rating" - no more, no less. Ambiguity + a faint air of creepiness + age inappropriate diversions = the matter upon which The Local Lowdown thrives.Listen to Some TunesEager to unwind and harmonize? The Addison Independent's community calendar advertises the following musical events:Honeywell in Middlebury. Thursday, Nov. 15, 10 p.m. Two Brothers Tavern.Possum Haw in Brandon. Friday, Nov. 16, 7 p.m. Ball and Chain CafÈ.Quatrain in Middlebury. Friday, Nov. 16, 7 p.m. Carol's Hungry Mind CafÈ.Snake Mountain Moonshiners in Middlebury. Saturday, Nov. 17, 7:30 p.m. Carol's Hungry Mind CafÈ.Trinity in Middlebury. Saturday, Nov. 17, 10 p.m. Two Brothers Tavern.Fran Robideau and his Band in Brandon. Friday, Nov. 23, 7 p.m. Ball and Chain CafÈ.
(11/08/07 12:00am)
Author: Rachael Jennings During their initial months at the College, many first-year students struggle with the transition to a different environment, with new friends and new responsibilities. Luckily, they can rely on a group of silent supporters who are there to help comfort them through these bouts of homesickness.These eager listeners are less celebrated for their good deeds than First-Year Counselors, but are vitally important on campus. Wondering how can you take advantage of this secret resource? You might want to check next to your pillow.That's right, we are talking about your stuffed monkeys and floppy dogs, patched bunnies and soft woodland creatures. Stuffed animals are more than just a youthful distraction to be abandonedWhen the time comes to gain more independence and an access card at college. In fact, a significant number of Middlebury students still depend on their furry friends for comfort and constancy - after all, many years of cuddling with a beloved bear or ratty rabbit is a hard habit to break. Indeed, some of our plush buddies are world travelers. Maddie Niemi '11 has a "Sleepy Bear," so named because his eyes are perpetually sewn shut. The sporty critter has accompanied her on every vacation she has taken, dabbling in everything from soccer (at Niemi's camp in Florida) and skiing (in the Swiss Alps).These childhood friends can also serve to keep students tied to their lives before Middlebury. Many attach a memory of a person or a group of friends to a specific animal. Adam Dede '11 cherishes a Kent State squirrel his friend sent to him earlier this year. "I'm not embarrassed to have it," Dede said.Others are equally forthcoming about their emotional attachments to their cherished toys. Alison Fonseca '11 lugged along a bunny named Lola when she moved here from Florida. Lola symbolizes her good memories of the animal with her friends, with whom she purchased the rabbit.Gregg Miller '11 explained that these companions are important because they help you to remember your own personal identity. Miller expressed his regret that he neglected to bring his to school with him."They're cuddly, they comfort you, they fill a hole in your heart and they're not to be shared," Miller said. "My identity is in shambles."A student leaving for college without something so beloved can be just as unthinkable to his or her parents. Alison Holley '11 recalled that her father packed her childhood stuffed bear when she was not looking, knowing that though she was trying to leave it behind, she would ultimately want it.Of course, first-years may tote along their stuffed animals as a source of stability and to help ease their adjustment to living away from home. The question is, will they bring them back for the subsequent three years? In the case of recent alumna Meira Lifson '07, the answer is a resounding yes. Meira first encountered Elliott, a noble dragon, at Disney World when she was just four. From that moment on, she took him everywhere, even making a passport for him so he could travel with her overseas. Through all of these travels, he became ragged, lost some of his scales and Lifson had to repaint his pupils, but she still brought him with her to Middlebury each year. When Lifson decided to study abroad in Chile, she went without Elliott for the first time. But then she became lonely in her unfamiliar new environment, and she decided she could not go on any longer without her magical friend. She missed him so much that she even risked the uncertainty of the Chilean mail system and had her mother ship him over.Some students do choose to leave their stuffed animals behind, if only for purely logistical reasons. Sarah Wilson '08 left Yellow Dog at home "with his friends.""I never developed the habit of bringing him everywhere as a child, and he is rather large, so leaving him home seemed practical," Wilson said. "It's kind of like a pet you only see when you come home."All in all, stuffed animals are an integral part of our lives on campus. They bring an instant intimacy to our potentially impersonal dorm surroundings and lend a friendly, never judgmental ear to even our most petty concerns. Most students will eventually abandon their sleeping companions at some point later in life, but, until then, Sleepy Bears and Elliotts remain the silent, constant lifeblood of Middlebury College.
(11/08/07 12:00am)
Author: Eleanor Johnstone "Courage begins with one voice." That was the line Jacquie Antonson '10 delivered to open "Manifesto for Another World," a play by Ariel Dorman and directed by Nerina Cocchi '10 that was performed in the Hepburn Zoo last weekend. As part of the fall symposium "Faces Behind Human Rights," "Manifesto" was essentially a series of monologues representing victims of gender violence and political injustice that strived to inform and challenge the audience. The individual statements were bound together by the repetition of particularly poignant lines reflecting sentiments of hope in the face of pain. On a visual level, the theme of individuals emerging from the recesses of suppression was reiterated by the set. A series of sparsely lit wire cage walls and rusty fencing designed by Nick McClintock '08 and accented by the haunting lighting scheme of Anna Solovieva '10 hung throughout the space. Actors crouched behind, hung from and pushed aside these barriers while stepping in and out of the light as appropriate to their monologue. Certain accounts of approaching squadrons or abused wives were supported by the physical participation of those actors not speaking, who rolled, jumped, marched or fought in the shadows of the individual's memory. Challenging the strength of these individuals was The Man, a smarmy personification of oppressive societal authority. Played by Ryan Kellett '09, this Machiavellian figure shot sarcastic and cynical remarks, rejecting the characters' messages as unfounded, exaggerated and impractical. From his raised seat in the audience, Kellett observed and dismissed the figures and their stories as they were performed within the maze of fencing on stage until, overwhelmed by the steady strength of victims who persevered, he cracked. As part of a daring conclusion, audience members found themselves pulled behind the fences to the back of the stage, where they were addressed under the Zoo's usual fluorescent lighting for the final minutes of the production. Many might have thought this play to be just another radical statement criticizing the world's problems that, for college students, seem just too tough to crack all the way from Middlebury. Yet I beg such an audience to clear its mind and look again. "Manifesto" takes a look at a variety of experiences without directly identifying or attacking one specific government or culture, but rather reveals the dark sides of nearly every authoritative system. Cocchi emphasized that the play is "beyond human rights Ö it's about fighting against individual fears." According to Cocchi, one of the most remarkable things about each character in "Manifesto" that was foreign to many on campus is the strength it took each one to stand up and say that they would not live as they were told. "There is a fear in leaving everything you know," said Cocchi. A scene in which Saila Huusko '10 investigated the murder of a young girl by her family reflected the strict ethics of societies in which "blood cleanses honor." Starrett Berry's '09 appearance as the Dalai Lama complemented Huusko's story by reminding the audience that "there is no point in being discouraged. Feelings of helpless anger only serve to poison the mind, enfeeble the will and embitter the heart. We must place this in context and learn that the basic human disposition towards freedom, truth and justice will eventually prevail." Perhaps most students have not faced political enemies with guns or endured months in jail, but the development of the individual does rely more on innovation than cooperation. Using personal transformations to contribute to larger causes is an important responsibility that the show addressed. Towards the end of the performance, Sasha Hirsch '10.5 told a story from a seat in the audience. As I turned to watch, I was struck by the artistic double-entendre that was created: not only was a voice coming from amongst the viewers, but in turning to hear his hopes and fears, I was forced to look across at fellow audience members. Although the somewhat distracting light change at the end reduced the impact of the closing lines, the awareness that I was sharing this message with a group of people stretched beyond the curtain call and into the moment when the actors became fellow students once again. Those who might have attended the performance with a checkbook would have found themselves overly accessorized for the evening. Although many such events give attendees the opportunity to send money to a particular organization, this group felt that doing so might muffle the message they were trying to send. So, then, what was Cocchi's purpose in reminding Middlebury's community of the atrocities that occur outside of our bubble in places where many of us have never been? "To get one person to change their way of thinking and dealing with things," she said. The company of "Manifesto" struck a chord of commitment to their project, reaching the audience through a human rhythm rather than an animalized war cry. Now it is their turn to watch and see whether we can follow the figures they conjured on stage and, in their honor at least, "just keep moving."
(11/08/07 12:00am)
Author: Ashley Gamell & Maddie Oatman The coveted wall-space of New York's art museums is usually reserved for die-hard visual artists, those who have starved their way through art school in order to become fluent in the wordless language of shapes and colors. This Fall Break, however, we ran into something a little different at the Anita Shapolski Gallery - the "Writer's Brush," an exhibit of drawings and paintings from some of the most well known writers of the last two centuries. From works by Yeats to Kerouac, Plath to Dillard, the level of artistic competence was as varied as the infamous personalities of the authors involved. This rare intersection of autobiography and imagery was a treat for the literary-minded and left us feeling both aesthetically and intellectually stimulated. The Shapolski Gallery is on the outskirts of the mainstream New York arts establishment - it's a mom and pop affair, tucked inside the Upper East Side brownstone of an elderly society lady. The exhibit stems from the personal dream of one visionary, and the presentation is fittingly intimate ≠- on the search for a bathroom, we came across the inhabitant's medicine cabinet and toothbrush. The works were compiled by Donald Friedman, a New York trial lawyer, who spent seven years of his off-time collecting work for the book "The Writer's Brush: Paintings, Drawings, and Sculpture by Writers" (Random House). After it came into fruition, he was encouraged to gather some of the original pieces and unveil them in a public exhibition.We were lucky enough to run into Friedman, a humble, white-haired man with a touch of court charisma, just after he had given a private tour to the national poet-laureate. After stating discretely, "I was just giving a tour to Charles Simic, but I'd honestly rather talk to you guys," Friedman proceeded to give us our own hour-long tour of the collection.In many cases, the author's drawings were merely extensions of their written works, the visual realm where they played with and colored their ideas. Lawrence Durell painted his sensual heroine "Justine" in bright brush strokes and rendered the lush peach-colored landscapes in which his fantastical novels seem to take place, and A.R. Ammons etched stark compositions of lines and divided circles which look like maps for his patterned, ontological poems. Jorge LuÌs Borges's drawing of a zebra-like fantasy animal harkened back to his whimsical "Book of Magical Creatures," and Victor Hugo's tiny square of a dim landscape was reminiscent of the oppressive settings we imagine in his stark novels.Certain pieces were exciting because of their unmistakable connection to the personalities of their creators. Tennessee Williams and Jack Kerouac attempted the canvas with mixed results, coming out with endearingly childlike portraits that were nonetheless intriguing evidence of the authors' eccentricities. Williams's "Vision of Paraclete," a portrait of two naked men, had to have been at least partially autobiographical in nature. And Kerouac, author of the breathless and seemingly impulsive novels "On the Road" and "Dharma Bums," featured a disproportionate drawing of a woman's face sketched rapidly with (what else?) wax crayons. Among the larger works was a portrait of the back of a nude lounging on a bed, painted by Aldous Huxley, writer of the bold utopic novel "A Brave New World." Frustrated by his own deteriorating vision, Huxley often had to paint from memory or touch and sometimes even took acid in order to better see colors. The result is a slightly off-kilter yet emotionally evocative nude portrait of Huxley's wife, complete with brilliant hues and sensuous lines. Also of note was Louise Gl¸ck's refined, cool-tempered still life of silverware, faint flowers and pears, reflective of her elegant poetic tone. In marked contrast, Charles Bukowski's unruly personality emerged in a loud crayon sketch that looked like the work of an unbalanced five-year-old, a risquÈ drawing of D.H. Lawrence in a water closet and a bronze cast which depicted either a child in tantrum or an over-sexed primate. Other authors couldn't get away from text at all - Mark Strand's modernist canvas of tiny grey lines on a white background looked like a sea of undecipherable words. The exhibit was short-lived, but the concept survives in Friedman's book, which is chock full of colored prints and juicy details about the writers and their closet careers as visual artists.
(10/10/07 12:00am)
Author: Cecilia Goldschmidt Everyone is familiar with some of the old standbys of dorm room decorating. Chances are, at least a few people on your hall have tacked up that famous image of John Belushi in his "College" sweatshirt from "Animal House," or that neon "Endless Summer" surf shot. Then there are the ubiquitous lava lamps and year-round Christmas lights. The truth is that putting flowers in your empties is not quite as elegant as you thought, especially when you first got the bright idea the morning after you polished off that bottle of Popov. I asked around and heard about some students who took more unique approaches to their dÈcor. Here are four very different rooms to help you get inspired. Zen Oasis"We designed it with the idea of a sanctuary in mind," said Peter Spyrou '10.5 of his double in Brooker House that he shares with Will Bellaimey '10.5. I entered this room through the window and was immediately struck by its earthy feeling. The floor is covered with a deep green rug purchased from the college bookstore. Their green couch is accented with light green pillows, and they are planning on adding green curtains to this scheme. The walls are decorated with nature scenes from Andy Goldsworthy. Four plants are strategically placed around the room Spyrou brought a jade plant and a rubber plant from home, and he and Bellaimey bought the spire plant and their "shrub" from a nursery nearby. The most notable part of their room is a calming stone fountain, complete with a Buddha statue, which sits in a round wooden table (built by Bellaimey and his brother) in the middle of the room. The Barracks"It sometimes feels more like summer camp than college," said Ben Kunofsky '09.5 of the Lang 4 suite that he shares with Blake Berman '09, John Havel '09, Brett Woelber '09.5, Luke Douglas '09.5 and Mason Graddock '09. Making very creative use of the space in their suite, these guys decided to take their three bedrooms and do something a little different. They moved all six beds into one room to make three bunk beds. This room, which they have named "the barracks," is quite a sight to behold. Kunofsky described the "cacophony of snoring" that takes place in the room every night and the chorus of alarm clocks that go off at 8:50 every morning, and Woelber stated that he sometimes feels like "one of the seven dwarves." They have even played a few games of "musical beds" in there. The other rooms of this suite have been turned into a den, a game room,and an "office," which holds all six of their desks. The walls of the suite have many interesting decorations, including a nude of Kunofsky and Woelber, painted by Chris Mutty '09.5 and set in the "Great Hall" (their common room).Global BazaarUpon entering the single of Charles "Cully" Cavness '09.5 on the third floor of Forest, it is hard to know where to look first. His room is decorated with souvenirs from his travels and is full of personal touches. Cavness's favorite part of his room is his silk sheets that he brought back from his trip to India this summer. His floor is also lined with silk rugs from India, which he purchased after a fierce bargaining match with the vendor. Another major accent is the large Buffalo skin rug that his father bought in Colorado. On the walls are a bull whip from Mexico, colored papers that he obtained in Arkansas on a road trip, German lederhosen and an Italian flag that he brought back after taking cooking classes in Italy. Cavness feels at home in his room among these various personal mementos. "It is decorated with things from my life," he pointed out. "I can remember my experiences whenever I come back here."Polka Dot PalaceIf you have never before seen the magic of "wall pops," it is important that you check out the room of Amanda Lee '11 and Jessica Spar '11, located on Hadley 3. Lee bought the wall pops from Lowe's, and now colorful spots cover their refrigerator, drawers and wall. "We thought it would be interesting because we can't paint the walls," commented Lee. Available in all shapes, colors and sizes, wall pops easily stick to most surfaces and (perhaps more importantly) can be easily removed. Lee and Spar even have a striped wall pop whiteboard up on their wall. The colors of the decorative dots actually tie together the beddings of Lee and Spar, and this was not accidental. Lee planned ahead, and when she emailed Spar this summer before arriving on campus to get to know her, she asked her what color her bedding was and bought the wall pops accordingly. According to Lee, many people have asked where they can buy the wall pops. So this new dorm room accessory may soon be seen in dorm rooms all over campus.With a little bit of spare time and creativity, you can turn your own room into a striking sanctuary that reflects your personality. Consult with your roommate to find an arrangement that is practical but not a replication of a Bed, Bath and Beyond catalog. Feel free to play with unique combinations of colors and patterns, to find more unique combinations of colors and patterns, and to find more unique art and posters at great price on eBay. This dorm room is going to be your home away from home for an entire year, so it's definately worh the extra effort.
(10/10/07 12:00am)
Author: Lea Calderon-Guthe Around noon on Saturday, Oct. 6, a procession of dog lovers and their four-legged friends took to the streets in a great jingling of collars and wagging of tails. Passersby grinned at the puppy parade as it marched a half-mile loop around town, finally returning to the town green for the rest of Woofstock 2007.An annual event organized by the Addison County Humane Society, Woofstock is a celebration of both canines and community. It is centered on a half-mile walk that serves to raise awareness and is a major fundraiser, as the walkers get friends and family to sponsor them and their furry companions. This year, Woofstock raised more than $3,000 from the walk alone, but Christine Blakeney, Addison County Humane Society Board President, knows that number can always be higher."We always need more turn-out," said Blakeney. "We had online giving, but not that many people registered there."Another board member, Elaine Cissi '86, pointed to some possible reasons people may have decided not to come."It's advertised a lot, but there's a little bit of cause fatigue and a little bit of donor fatigue and a little bit of involvement fatigue," said Cissi.If the number of attendees was lacking, their dedication was not. Ginny Vantier, the top fundraiser in the adult category, received $1,070, and 10-year-old Megann Watkins raised $303, making her the top child fundraiser and winning her an enormous stuffed dog. Watkins came with her family, including Comet, a Border-collie spaniel mix they adopted from the shelter a little less than a year ago. Many of the dogs in attendance were also former shelter dogs. Like many other human attendees, Watkins hopes to volunteer at the shelter when she is old enough. She said she has been coming to Woofstock for several years now, and this year, having a dog of her own motivated her even more."[Comet] needs socialization - he's kind of a chicken - and [the walk] is fun," Watkins said. "I [raised money] so that the Humane Society has enough money to care for other dogs' medicine and food."When it first began 18 years ago in Bristol, Vt., Woofstock was not much more than a walk around town. Since then, it has evolved into more of a festival. This year, attendees were treated to live music by Cooper and Lavoie as they wandered from booth to booth, dogs in tow. Some groups, like Addison County against Domestic and Sexual Violence, Beagles of New England States (BONES) and the Green Mountain Animal Defenders, were there to provide information and spread awareness about a wide array of animal- and wellness-related issues. Other organizations, like the Green Mountain Dog Obedience Group, Doggone Style by Pilar and Creature Features Pet Supplies, were there to sell everything from sparkly hairclips for long-haired dogs to all-natural dog treats. The booths accompanied other festival regulars like a bake sale and face-painting, but particular to the canine theme were the agility-testing obstacle course, the doggie water park (several kiddie pools with rubber ducks in them) and the Dig Like a Dog game where children could dig through bark mulch to find numbered cards that corresponded to certain prizes. All of these additions were well-received by dogs and people alike, but Blakeney thinks next year will be even better once some internal organization issues are worked out."I hope we make it bigger next year," Blakeney said. "We're actually without an executive director now, so the board, which is all volunteers with full-time jobs, had to organize this."Board treasurer Deborah Laframboise played a huge role in running and setting up the event, but her job may have been less stressful had she known what people would enjoy most about Woofstock. The opportunity to raise funds as well as awareness was a big draw for most people, but what kept people at the festival well after the walk was the sense of canine community more than the organized activities. "Dog people, they're really dedicated, and I think that they love an opportunity to come out and show support as well as walk," Cissi said. "But I think any time dogs have an opportunity to be around other dogs, supervised, is great. If you look around, everybody's really getting along. Lots of sniffing, but I think it's nice as a social opportunity for them."The dogs were not the only ones to make new acquaintances, either. Every pair of dogs that pulled at their leashes towards each other brought their owners with them, starting conversations between people that might not have happened otherwise and showing humans a thing or two about breaking social barriers.
(10/10/07 12:00am)
Author: Kelly Janis On Oct. 6 and 7, the Robert E. Miller Expo Centre in Essex Junction, Vt. boasted the highest concentration of Navajo wedding sets, 19th century hand-cut doll dresses and vintage sewing machines for miles as it played host to the annual Champlain Valley Antiques Festival. The two-day event, sponsored by the Lake Champlain Regional Chamber of Commerce and named a Top 10 Fall Event by the Vermont Chamber of Commerce, welcomed 175 dealers from throughout the Northeast to showcase their wares at the heavily-attended show, the largest of its kind in the state of Vermont."I just like doing it, even though it's a lot of work - loading, wrapping, all the time, continuously," said Stephen Renda of SJR Antiques as he stood in front of his meticulous display of early Japanese porcelain pottery. "A lot of times, you feel like a mover."Occasionally, all of this hustle and bustle takes its toll in the form of coveted items sustaining damage beyond repair. Renda attempts to take such setbacks in stride."It's just part of the business," he said. "You have to take the good with the bad."Fortunately for Renda, there has been plenty of good. Several years ago, the lucky sale of a single Irish table allowed him to remodel a substantial portion of his home.Renda equates a foray into the antiquing business with opening up an extensive library. "There's everything in everything category, so you never know what you're going to sell and what you're not going to sell," Renda said. "That's why I bring a huge display of different items, to try and draw more traffic."According to dealers, a practical value underlies their trade."Antiques are a good investment," said Robert Kelley of Century House Antiques & Toys in Alfred, N.Y. "You get your money out of them."Naturally, some venues yield more money than others. None of the sales imprinted most vividly on Kelley's mind - that is, the ones fetching sometimes as much as $8,000 in revenue - have taken place in New England. As a consequence, he was less-than-enthused by his surroundings, and his prospects for a profitable day."I don't know what we're doing here, to be honest," Kelley said. "We're a little strong for this kind of show. I mean, the show is a nice show and everything, but we have expensive stuff. And generally speaking, we haven't seen the clientele here to support that."Fortunately for penny-pinchers - and anyone else unwilling to spring for a 19th century rare rabbit form at the affordable low price of $4,500 - other dealers adopted a considerably more welcoming approach to finances."If somebody comes through and they only have five dollars to spend, I've got something for five dollars," said Jim Mazalewkski of Partners & Friends Antiques. "If they have $500 to spend, I've got something for $500. I try to meet all of the markets. Some people can't afford an awful lot, but they want to add to their collection. I love adding to people's collections."Alba Antiques's Sir Alasdair T. Munro - a distinctive presence at the show, given the Scottish kilt in which he was festively clad - employs a simple formula in determining which pieces will be suitable additions to his own collection."If it's Scottish, and I can lift it with one hand, and it's antique, I'll buy it," said Munro.Munro wrote the book on Scottish antiques Ö literally. His hardbound collectors' guide, aptly-titled Scottish Antiques, is the only full-length publication to focus specifically on merchandise from his native land. It was on display on Saturday, next to a wide array of what he deemed "all things Scottish" - everything from jewelry and swords to bottles and cans."It's been a good crowd so far this morning," Munro said. "Not a lot of people for us, though, because we're so specialized. Only one in 100 is a prospect for us, so we don't usually do as well as the general antiquers."Munro said that after more than 20 years of antiquing, it is "greed unfulfilled" which keeps him coming back for more.For Kathy Brangwynne of Country Cousins Antiques, it is "the fun of the hunt. You never know what you're going to find, and you're always learning something new."Growing up in a large family, Brangwynne did not own many toys, dolls and stuffed animals. Now, she is making up for lost time by buying and selling them."I didn't grow up with antiques," Brangwynne said. "I just developed a passion for them. It's a lot of fun, and you meet a lot of nice people."Brangwynne suspected that many individuals were intimidated by the prospect of a show such as the one in Essex Junction. "I know the word 'antique' is kind of scary sometimes, but people often don't realize what these shows have to offer until they get here," Brangwynee said. She noted that dealers are bound to have something to appeal to every taste, "whether it's an old postcard, a nice piece of linen or an old toy. And we give out free chocolate Hershey's Kisses, too."To this end, Brangwynee urged adventurousness."I encourage anyone to go to an antique show and just see what's there," Brangwynee said. "Maybe you'll get the antique bug."
(10/04/07 12:00am)
Author: Kelly Janis When was the last time you petted an alpaca? On Sept. 29, Maple View Farm Alpacas in Brandon, Vt. held one of several annual open houses to allow visitors to satiate their curiosity about these fuzzy, little-known creatures who roam more than 45 farms in Vermont alone.According to a guide to "breeding for superior genetics" distributed by Maple View Farm, "the alpaca is a member of the South American Camelid family, which also includes llamas, guanacos and vicunas." Until a 1998 agreement between the United States and South American governments curtailed the practice and limited breeding to stock already housed domestically, these gentle, non-aggressive natives of Peru, Chile and Bolivia were imported from their home countries for the economic benefits imbedded in their fibers and ability to be shown and bred.Ed Bratton - who births, raises, breeds, buys, sells and boards alpacas on the 100-acre farm he owns with his wife, Deb - stumbled upon alpacas by chance."I was on a business trip, coming home on an airplane one Friday afternoon, when somebody had left behind an alpaca magazine, and I just started looking at it," Bratton said. "I took it home and showed my wife and said, 'have you ever seen one of these things?' and she said, 'I have no idea what that is.' So we looked through the magazine and found that there was a farm within 60 miles of us, and we went and saw the animals." The Brattons were instantly smitten with the alpacas. "We spent three years going to shows, going to seminars, visiting farms and deciding that we were going to move here, build a farm and raise alpacas," Bratton said.On the whole, the Brattons' 25 alpacas are active, gregarious creatures."When they first come out in the morning, they run and they jump and they just have a great old time," Bratton said.Other times, however, they are far more finicky and reserved."Alpacas are more like cats than like dogs," Bratton said. "If they want to stick their nose right in your face, they will. But if you want to touch them, your arm is just that much too short."The Alpaca Owners & Breeders Association sanctions numerous events nationwide. While there is a show - in which alpacas are judged based on movement, appearance and fiber quality - virtually every weekend, the Brattons choose to attend only four each year, traveling as far as Pittsburgh to showcase their animals."The rules [of the shows] are that you can't brush them, you can't bathe them, you can't comb them, you can't trim them," Bratton said. "So they stay the way they are by taking dust baths."According to Bratton, these dust-bathing critters are becoming a sensation. "Every year, several new farms pop up," he said. Maple View Farm capitalizes on the surging demand not only by stocking an on-site store complete with garments, accessories, yarns and toys made from the animal's luxurious fiber, but by selling alpacas to farmers in several states. Such sales can be quite lucrative - the range of value for breeding females, for instance, hovers been $12,000 and $35,000, on average.For the Brattons however, raising alpacas is not solely a matter of business. Bratton recounted an occasion on which another couple approached him and his wife while they were exiting the ring at a show and offered to pay $50,000 dollars on the spot for their most prized alpaca. "We turned them down," Bratton said. "We really love the animals."The alpacas also furnish the Brattons with a host of playful diversions."On very hot, humid days, we get the hose out," Bratton said. "And they're just like kids. They'll come running from the far end of the pasture and try to crowd each other out of the way if they think they're going to get hosed down."In spite of these lighthearted scenes, tending to the alpacas is often a time-and labor-intensive process. "We're up fairly early," Bratton said. "We get up in the morning and we get them fed, we get them outside, we get them watered, we clean the barn up and then we basically leave them out in the fields and go to work. And then late in the day - usually four, five, six, somewhere in there - we come home, we bring them in, we feed them, we get them in their pens at night and we clean up."This process is elongated by the Brattons' desire to accommodate their stock as cautiously as possible."You don't have to keep alpacas inside, but because we have some pretty active coyotes, we choose to lock them in the barn at night," Ed Bratton said. "We're generating some of our own work, but we don't mind doing that. Because at two in the morning when the coyotes are howling, we know where our animals are."
(10/04/07 12:00am)
Author: Joseph Bergan and Thomas Brant Last spring, Middlebury admissions conducted an experiment - fly in 100 stand-out admitted students who may choose another school for one final presentation on why they should choose Middlebury. The College planned to attract "truly fabulous" students following a major increase in application numbers, from roughly 6,200 the year before last to nearly 7,200 last year, and an overall rise in the number of top applicants."They are some of the most sought after students in the country," Dean of Admissions Robert Clagett told the faculty last February. "We want to show them what they can do here at Middlebury College."While these types of recruiting weekends are commonplace at big schools with big-time sports programs, the College admissions office sought out the future Yo-Yo Ma over the future Yao Ming.The visits were specially tailored to the students' academic interests, and the students had the opportunity to not only meet with faculty members but also with juniors and seniors who were doing research projects in their areas of interest.Clagett hoped that the College's offer would draw between 50 and 60 students to campus, with the ultimate goal of convincing 30 or more to attend. The College identified the students who would receive the offer through a committee process."Twenty-three of the 100 ended up matriculating," said Clagett. Although the program scored high-fives in the admissions office, the student body last spring was underwhelmed."I felt like the perception was that we were trying to change the make-up of the student body," said Clagett. "That's not the case at all - these people are the kind of people who have always applied to Midd."Last year, The Middlebury Campus highlighted four students' weekends as they passed by for a final free look at the College.Zachary Shuetz '11 was one of these "Top 100" - a colloquialism that has since been bestowed upon these students - and the experience made a big impression on him."Prior to the experience, I was not thinking of Middlebury at all," said Shuetz, who now lives in Hadley Hall. "After I came here and everybody seemed really nice, I said, 'I have to go to Middlebury.'"Schuetz was also accepted at Brandeis University and The University of Connecticut (UConn) and after another look at UConn in the spring, began deciding between Brandeis and Middlebury - but Middlebury had an image problem in Schuetz's home. "My mom was very much unimpressed with our first tour," said Schuetz. "A person on the tour asked what the drinking scene was like at Middlebury and the tour guide's answer was something along the lines of, 'Oh, it's really cool, you can drink whatever you want and Public Safety won't bother you at all.'"But after the Top 100 visit, Schuetz was ready to enroll. He has jumped right in to Middlebury's rainbow of extracurriculars, grabbing a piece of every spectrum. Schuetz is a member of the Anime Club and the Pep Band, as well as taking part of some alternative athletics - the Quidditch Club."I caught the snitch last week," Schuetz said. He jokingly cites Quidditch as a determining factor for his decision. " When my sister told me last year that Middlebury had a Quidditch team, I was sold."But what about the drinking culture at Middlebury? Was the tour guide correct in his review of Middlebury's partying scene?"It seems to be true," said Schuetz of the comment that drinking is pretty rampant. "There was a pervasive smell on my floor that I wasn't expecting."Students like Schuetz were duly impressed by the College's representation, but many wonder at what cost? Why should the College designate these 100 admitted students?"The total cost was about the same as a need-based Middlebury grant," said Clagett. "There is zero financial impact on students. When we had the Strategic Plan, the President set up a fund to help fund aspects of the Strategic Plan, including attracting highly qualified students."Sean Dennison '11 was another of the Top 100 featured in The Campus last spring. Dennison was flown in all the way from Helena, Mont. for another look at Middlebury. "The only other school I was considering was Macalester College," said Dennison, who plays the violin in the College orchestra.While some students know about the Top 100 program, it has not made Dennison a big celebrity on campus."People know that I was a Top 100, but it's not a huge deal," he said. "They didn't make a special club for us or anything." For Dennison, the free trip was a big factor in his final decision to matriculate, however he cited other factors higher than a free coach ticket."My decision was based more on what I saw on campus - the classes, living in the dorms," he said.Anne Runkel '11 one of Dennison's good friends from the same high school in Helena was also a Top 100 student who was influenced by the trip to Middlebury."It was truthfully the thing that got me to Middlebury," Runkel said. "It was so well-organized but so open that you could go to lectures or classes or just hang out."Runkel, who was victorious in her bid for her first-year SGA Senate seat, also plays Ultimate Frisbee and is an avid member of the College Democrats. She cites an environmental lecture that introduced her to the community-based approach that the College takes towards academics."I could envision myself walking in the dorms and going to classes," Runkel said. "I'm really happy here."The Top 100 program has received rave reviews from both the students and administrators. The only ones who seem to be left out are the approximately 2,300 other students who never earned the designation - but Clagett is betting the program will continue to benefit the rest of us."It's gotten us some fabulous people who will contribute a lot to the College," said Clagett.
(10/04/07 12:00am)
Author: Eleanor Johnstone Audio produced by Radio Arts Middlebury.Theater people love to be hands-on. That is why you will find them hooting like monkeys and making odd faces at one another instead of staring at books for hours on end. Life-of-the-party aside, however, you will find that it takes many skilled hands and studious minds for all these brilliant shenanigans to get in front of an audience. In a move to highlight those who generally apply the highlights, the Middlebury Theater Department's Celebration of Theatrical Design Symposiumon on Setptember 24th shed some light on the work of these creative wing-dwellers. The light plots and set sketches of plays such as "Into the Woods" and "An Experiment with an Air Pump" mounted on the walls of Seeler Studio Theater are accentuated by leather boots and frilly panties worthy only of M. C. Bill Army. In addition to the display, students within and without the Theater Department had the opportunity to try out a few ideas of their own in professional workshops including mask-making, costume rendering, make-up artistry, lighting design, sound design and scenic painting. Of course, theater is not all fun and games, and the crash-course entitled "How to Take a Meeting" informed students about preparing for and presenting in those treasured job interviews. Book-ending the Symposium were panel discussions with professionals Tom Meyer '90 (art director), Josh Bradford '93 (light designer), Andy Mitton '01 (writer/composer) and Alexandra Sargent Capps '89 (costume designer). Moderated by Visiting Lecturer in Theatre Dana Yeaton and Associate Technical Director Hallie Zieselman, these alumni fielded questions regarding the motivations, obstacles and ecstasies of work in the theatrical world. A stroll through Seeler Studio Theater offers a piece-by-piece briefing on the inspiration and creation of past shows on the College's campus. Mannequins sporting costumes from productions such as "Cabaret" and "The Wedding Dress" stand sentinel by displays of animation-worthy costume renderings, light plots with codes more mystifying than those penned by Dan Brown and model sets only a borrower could have built. Overseeing all this, "The Bewitched's" well-known golden penis protrudes from the dark heights while videos of past performances play below. Scattered throughout the room set pieces reminisce amidst fabric swatches and scene plots. The array of inspiration is striking. As if opening a watch, the display reveals the crucial influence of those who do not appear on stage. In some corners binders filled with notes and sketches are portals into the processes of designers. In others, "mood boards," collages or diagrams with images by great masters, photographs of natural parks, newspaper clippings and anything else that inspired a design provide a glimpse into the genesis of a production's appearance. Many would think that a designer works within a set of rules - in reality it is a much more varied process. Aaron Gensler '08, a set design major at the College, described the way anything from driving down a certain road to watching actors in rehearsal to flipping through art books contributes to her process. "Images are really powerful," she said, describing her tendency to use images to communicate with other designers and directors. How many times do we pass judgments on a person based on their outfit, or a campus based on the weather on that one day? We make these judgments faster than we know, and they tell us more than we realize. As Gensler succinctly phrased it, "it's an instinctual thing between people." Making a round of Seeler brings to mind Meyer's comment that the job of designers is "to tell a story," and, as evidenced by the symposium, this storytelling is very much a collaborative process. Initially, the designers will sit down with the director and discuss the common element - the script. They then project ideas onto the skeletal text, discarding many and keeping a precious golden few. Ensuring the links between these ideas is essential. The overall success of a production relies on the dynamics between every element - lighting depends on costumes, set design and staging, sound is intertwined with action, and costumers repeatedly make adjustments depending on the activity in a certain scene. The initial concepts go through many revisions before the curtain rises but, as Senior Lecturer in Costume Design at Vanderbilt University Sargent Capps pointed out, it is this unexpectedness of a production that keeps its members going. Stress is a motivator. At the same time, making sense of the spontaneous demands everyone's commitment. "It's all about the team," Bradford '93 said. "Everybody's got to buy into that." Recognizing the work that goes into those Saturday night theatrical excursions contributes to one's understanding of a production. Who would have known that Caravaggio had inspired such-and-such a lighting designer, or that a costumer could design primarily from a favorite texture? The designing brain is constantly churning and picking up ideas from everyday moments, an idea made explicit by Saturday's symposium. Without the hard work, collaboration and attention to detail, our actors would be stuck in movement class, contorting their faces in the shadows. The theatre design display will remain open to the public in the Seeler Studio Theatre through Oct. 17.
(10/04/07 12:00am)
Author: Kelly Janis Shameless party animal that I am, I spent a raucous Saturday night covering a last-minute shift at Public Safety's recently-launched Residential Life Helpline.The lightly-publicized service directs minor complaints formerly fielded by Public Safety to a student operator, who then contacts the appropriate individual to intervene.When a student called to report a puddle of vomit in the doorway of his residence hall, bewilderment ensued. Nobody was too keen on mopping up bodily fluids at one o'clock on a Sunday morning. So a passerby slung a few paper towels on the floor, several "hey, wanna clean up some vomit?" voicemails were issued and that was that. As long as everyone went through the ineffectual motions - and it wasn't Family Weekend or any other occasion compelling the College to assume a sparkling facade - it could ferment for a while.Maybe it would be cleaned up early the next morning. Or in 24 hours. Or maybe it would linger for three days, as it is alleged to have more than once in the past. And, best of all, if clean-up required the custodians to work overtime, rather than dipping into the $46,910 and rising Comprehensive Fee or the cash allotted to each commons to plan sparsely-attended events, which students routinely eschew in favor of getting wasted, each student who resides in the vomited-upon building ran the risk of being billed for the labor.Whose job is it to clean up the messes for which students fail to take responsibility? And how effective is our newly-restructured residential life system if it means other departments coordinating clumsily, at best, with individuals who are uncertain of the tasks for which they are responsible, and are unavailable to execute them anyway?A Public Safety staff member who entertained my incessant late-night rant said that leaving our doorways bathed in puke teaches students a valuable lesson - that the immaturity and irresponsibility of a few ought to be the active burden of us all. Eventually, he said, students will get fed up and turn in their friends. It's all about "the College's vision of responsibility," he said. It's all about community.Is that what being part of a community means? Policing our hallmates' penchant for puking? Getting pissed off and "tattling" on one another? Wouldn't it be far easier to instead cultivate some respect, in this case for each student's right to tread into their living space without first surmounting a puddle-hopping odyssey through God-knows-whose bodily fluid?While, certainly, the residential life system and Department of Public Safety have their flaws, we as students should conduct ourselves with enough common decency to preclude the intervention of either, and ensure that the College doesn't have to hire people to clean up after us as though we were toddlers.Rather than basking in our status as Midd-kids - an infantilizing term which sometimes registers as dismayingly fitting - why not behave like adults every now and again? We can start by cleaning up our own vomit. If we succeed at that, maybe we can even find ways of relating to one another that don't require becoming inebriated to the point of impairment. Certainly dulling emotions, quelling social inadequacy and making sexual overtures with the authenticity fostered by lots and lots of alcohol is part and parcel of The College ExperienceÆ, and I'd be na've to suggest that we evolve. But given the manner in which Middlebury delights in fancying itself superior to other institutions in so many other respects, can't we aspire to a certain air of dignity in this realm? Can't we ensure that guests on admissions tours aren't wading through pools of vomit and shards of broken glass from the previous night's beer fest? Can't we demonstrate our respect for this community by taking responsibility for maintaining it? Either that, or in the style of true "Midd-kids," we can all get drunk and forget there's any problem.Kelly Janis '10 is a Local News editor from Binghamton, N.Y.
