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Reel Critic: “Cry Macho”

“Cry Macho” opens on a truck driving down a country road. Inside, we see squinted eyes under a beaten cowboy hat glance into the rearview mirror. The truck pulls to a stop, and the camera drops to the ground to watch as two leather boots step out onto the pavement. It then cuts to the driver-side door shutting, and then we see him: Clint Eastwood, the sun at his back, still the archetypical American Western hero at 91 years of age that he was 60 years ago. It is clear in just the first two minutes of the film that director and star Clint Eastwood understands the baggage that he carries with him into this role. Making his first appearance in a Western since his 1993 Best Picture Winner “Unforgiven,” he knows that his donning of a cowboy hat is all that audiences need to feel the years of rich cinematic history packed into this film. Eastwood plays with this connection between the audience and the icon, as silhouettes of his character Mike Milo against the sun setting over the desert erase his age. He could just as easily be the Man with No Name from Sergio Leone’s “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Herein lies one of the joys of “Cry Macho.” Though it is a film held back by a screenplay that is uneven in its storytelling and blunt in its dialogue, it is redeemed by an endearing Eastwood performance, the beautiful desert scenery and some of the sweetest moments in the director’s filmography. Mike Milo is a former rodeo star living out the last years of his life alone following the death of his wife and son in a car accident. In return for the financial support he lent Mike following the loss of his family, Mike’s boss Howard (Dwight Yoakam) comes to him asking for a favor: travel from Texas to Mexico to retrieve Howard’s son from his affluent, alcoholic mother. Mike accepts, and after finding the boy in Mexico City, sets off on the road back to Texas. He is all too quickly pursued by Mexican federal police and private enforcers, both sent by the mother to take back her son. Despite what its plot may imply, “Cry Macho” is anything but a thriller. Much like its white-haired star, the film is gentle, methodical and earnest, which works brilliantly in some regards but fails in others. This earnestness shows up as a problem in the dialogue, much of the issue stemming from Eduardo Minett’s Rafo. The character’s lines are devoid of any subtlety and delivered with binary emotions. Rafo is either one hundred percent happy or one hundred percent sad, never a realistic, complex mix. His spoken words — he at one point says to Mike, “I don’t trust you anymore” — are borderline cringeworthy. It is a great relief that Eastwood is not tainted by this problem. His portrayal of Mike is natural, filled with moments of sly humor, wisdom and a warm sensitivity that is miles away from the steely intensity of his William Munny in “Unforgiven.” Mike chokes up, recalling his deceased family, and as he lies down in the dark, his hat pulled down over his eyes, all we can see is a single tear rolling down his cheek. These quiet, human moments are what make “Cry Macho” tick, and they are never more bountiful than when Mike and Rafo spend time with a widow named Marta (Natalia Traven) and her family. Mostly set in the restaurant Marta runs in a small Mexican town, this extended sequence finds the film forgetting about its plot momentarily to settle down and simply breathe with the characters. They eat meals together, they dance, they tend to sick animals and they laugh. It plays like a dream, and the rest of the narrative fades into the periphery. Not only is watching Mike and Rafo form a familial bond with Marta and her granddaughters the highlight of the film, but it is also possibly the most heartwarming sequence that Eastwood has ever shot. The flimsiness of the screenplay doesn’t allow the film to maintain this emotional power once Mike and Rafo are forced to leave their new home behind. What is supposed to be the final confrontation between Mike and one of the men hunting him lasts no more than two minutes and is extremely anticlimactic. Then, in the most disappointing part of the film, the plot runs its course to reach an expected conclusion without the characters pushing the drama into new territory. Is this an intentional effort by screenwriter Nick Schenk to subvert audience expectations by ending the film and giving them an ending that is almost too obvious? Or is it simply a boring ending? Thinking back, it doesn’t matter either way. The film was genuinely moving, and audiences got to see one of their favorite Hollywood stars step gracefully back into the role that he defined. You can’t ask for anything more than that.

The Middlebury Romantic asks: What is love?

Ralph Waldo Emerson’s view of love is this: “Human beings are like globes, which can touch only in a point, and, whilst they remain in contact, all other points of each of the spheres are inert.”  While he is a controversial figure (for good reason, might I add), this transcendentalist literary guru had a unique perspective on love between two people. Connection is signified by two separate wholes that merely meet at one point on the spheres which represent their lives. Whether romantic or platonic, the connection implies that neither person completes the other, rather, each person supports the other so that their lives adapt and grow in unexpected ways with time.  On Middlebury’s campus, I propose that we are all spheres: complex creatures with detailed interests, weaving and intersecting with the other spheres around us. Our lives become complete wholes when we nourish aspects of our identities and connect meaningfully with one another. Whether we are loving our hallmates, our class material, our extracurricular clubs, our sports, or our romantic SOs, we don’t need that one aspect of our life to make us “whole” again; the comprehensive whole lies in the process of cultivating a connection, the one point on our sphere. There are a lot of types of love floating around our school: “Love at first sight,” platonic love, “the first love,” maybe even “true love.” Perhaps we have skirted around the very idea of “I love you” for fear of getting too close, for burning ourselves in the heat of romantic seriousness and the prickly fear of commitment in our chests. I have both been afraid to say those three words, and also lived by the phrase “caution belongs to the wind.” I wasn’t really ready to have a relationship until this year because I used to look at love as a way to complete myself, incapable of seeing my worth on my own. I didn’t understand that love must  be about prioritizing loving yourself first.  To be honest, my romantic history has had some questionable characters: people who didn’t put in effort, failed to communicate, or hid how they really felt about me for fear of hurting my feelings. Have I been left on “read” for two months before? Absolutely. I’ve also gotten my hopes up only to have the person leave the date thirty minutes in, pushing his chair back exclaiming “I’m finished with dinner” after I admitted I didn’t like a certain Taylor Swift album. I’ve had a date become a “group hang” because my date had internally friendzoned me and was afraid to tell me. But we should not be settling for experiences like these. From now on, no more long wait times, hidden feelings, or lack of effort.  In my current relationship, we give each other the time and space to talk about what we care about in life, whether that’s as silly as Legos or something as serious as social justice issues. If one of us knows we need to do something for our own happiness, we’ll make that a priority too. Loving someone is wanting the ‘whole’ that is their life to be complete — even the aspects that don't directly relate to you. Love is doing everything you can to help someone by adding patches of light into their day. That could be bringing them coffee, writing a sweet note, helping them fold their laundry, or even just listening to them when they need it. Love takes shape in thoughtful action, especially toward yourself. After all, showing love to yourself helps you best extend that love to other people.  “I love you.” Everyone says it at different times: sometimes it’s never, sometimes it’s two weeks in (as was the case of my first boyfriend), four months or six, but really, you should say it when you feel it.  My friends are good examples of complete wholes finding points of connections among our group and on their own romantically. Here’s what they think love is: Love is feeling at home: whether that’s a place or with people, you feel like you can be your true self without having to worry about how you’re perceived Love is cherishing every moment you can with someone Love is a feeling of uncontained happiness in someone’s presence Love is overcoming our fear that we aren’t worthy of connection Love is helping other people get what they want in life But if I know one thing, it’s that love isn’t an obligation. It’s not something you owe to someone. It’s not something you can always hold onto. It’s something that terrifies us, and lifts us from our own depths, excites us, and inspires us into growing into ourselves in the world. Love is the glue for everything.  “I love you.” “Really? I love you too. I’ve known for a while now. I love you…”  “So much.”

Middlebury businesses continue to face acute understaffing

The town of Middlebury is no exception to the nationwide service sector labor shortage, and the widespread lack of workers has meant changes to the operations of popular restaurants in town. Local staples including Noonie’s Deli and Middlebury Bagel & Deli have been forced to alter operations or cut hours. Other changes at Middlebury’s restaurants include fewer menu offerings, increased wait times and a shift toward takeout only at certain establishments. The desperation for staff is visible in town: Hannaford has posted hiring signs up and down the milk aisle, and Mr. Up’s posted signage looking for cooks, waitstaff and dishwashers with “help wanted” followed by nine exclamation points. In order to accommodate demand — especially with the reopening of dine-in services — Otter Creek Bakery is open for one to two hours fewer per day and only five days a week. In an interview with The Campus, Renee Leone, an employee at Otter Creek, expressed that even with the tighter hours, members of the staff have been working double or extended shifts to compensate for the lack of staff.  “We’re really trying to hire a lot of people,” Leone said. “We’re not looking to expand [hours] anytime soon until the labor shortage settles down.” The Arcadian — which shares a dining room with Haymaker Bun Co. —  closed its doors indefinitely on Saturday, Sept. 18. The owners shared on the restaurant’s Instagram that “the staffing crisis that has gripped our industry on every level was ultimately an insurmountable challenge to our operational goals.” Franchises in Middlebury have also been affected. The town’s Dunkin’ location has had to close early or limit their on-the-go service some days.  In addition to forcing operational changes, the challenges posed by the labor shortage have taken a mental and emotional toll on employees. Maranda Aunchman, a shift leader at the local Dunkin', described the strain of the staff shortage. “It’s really stressful not having people in or people quitting,” Aunchman said. “It’s affecting everybody.” Middlebury Bagel & Deli has been busier than ever before, but struggling to fill positions has presented the business with an unprecedented challenge. In the past, the owners seldom needed to advertise when looking to hire new employees, and now, they are turning to Facebook, advertising in the storefront and relying on word of mouth in the small town community. “Mentally, it’s hard, and obviously not having the right amount of people for certain days . . . it’s affected us. It’s affected all of them,” Justin Rubright, an owner of Middlebury Bagel & Deli, said. “It’s good to have the two days off that we have because we have the strongest crew that we could have here every other day the five days that we’re open.” According to the Addison Independent, the owners of Noonie’s Deli have received a number of applications in the past year, but out of those applicants, only a few have shown up to undergo the interview process. Now, with many employees from the summer returning to high school or college, hiring efforts have strengthened. Some local businesses hope that Middlebury College students will be able to pad the local workforce. Last Monday, the college — in collaboration with the Better Middlebury Partnership — put on a job fair advertising positions in town. But the college faces its own critical labor shortages, with dining halls and facilities experiencing perhaps the most perceptible effects of understaffing. In an interview for Business Insider, economist Dante DeAntionio said that the labor shortage across the U.S. is likely to persist.  “The labor shortages will start to abate in September and this fall, but it’s not going to be an immediate fix,” DeAntonio said. “This could well play out over two, three years.” Economists largely attribute the labor shortage to a mismatch between the roles offered by employers and potential employees looking to fill those roles. In some businesses across the U.S., employers are not willing or able to offer the wage that workers are demanding, or the employers might be eliminating applicants through automatic screening software, such as resume screeners that reject potential employees based on the inclusion of certain words on their resumes.  In addition, cases are still on the rise throughout the country, including Vermont, which could deter people from returning to jobs that put them at risk for Covid-19. Cases have been on the rise in Vermont since Labor Day Weekend, with 82 new cases reported on the state’s Covid-19 dashboard on Sept. 28. Childcare also continues to be an issue for many, as parents are either unwilling to send their children to childcare centers or centers remain closed.  While it is unclear exactly what is causing the labor shortage in Middlebury, national trends indicate that it could be a problem that persists for years to come. 

WRMC Radio Roundup: Whistle While You Work

General Manager’s Pick — Maddie Van Beek ’22.5 Album: “Ice Melt” — Crumb Genre: Neo-Psychedelia Dream Pop RIYL: Men I Trust, Puma Blue, Yellow Days, Foxygen Blurb: Fresh off the heels of their newest indie pop psych rock album, the Brooklyn quartet, Crumb, is making the trek up to Middlebury, Vermont this Friday, October 1. Spend this week memorizing the words to every song so you can sing your heart out at our first live concert of the year! Co-Concerts Manager’s Pick — Yardena Carmi ’23 Album: “Sable (Video Game Soundtrack)” — Japanese Breakfast Genre: Instrumental, Ambient RIYL: Hans Zimmer, Vangelis, Sufjan Stevens Blurb: Japanese Breakfast has been putting out a ridiculous amount of great music lately and her latest project, a soundtrack for an indie video game, is no exception. “Sable'' is soft and relaxing. Its mostly wordless retro vibe is perfect for the late night homework grind.  Co-Concerts Manager’s Pick — Luke Robins ’23 Album: “Psy From The Psycho World!” — PSY Genre: Hip-Hop RIYL: Outkast, Digable Planets, Seo Taiji and the Boys Blurb: If you only know PSY from “PSY Gangnam Style,” I promise there’s more. “Psy from The Psycho World!” will have you bouncing through campus with its classic SoCal and disco inspired beats.  Business Manager’s Pick — Jacob Raymond ’23 Album: “SINNER GET READY” — Lingua Ignota Genre: Avant-garde, orchestral, metal, Appalachian acoustic RIYL: The Body, Daughters, Liturgy Blurb: Lingua Ignota’s third album, “SINNER GET READY,” is one of the most dense, horrifying, engrossing and beautiful albums I have ever heard. The album attempts to grapple with the zealotry of the Christian faith in Appalachia by taking the listener on a journey through both gorgeous hymnal singing and chilling screams backed by a gigantic classical composition that feels trapped between some kind of blissful heaven and hellish purgatory. While listening to this album all the way through is really difficult, and it is not an album I’d recommend listening to on a whim, it is one of the most unforgettable albums I’ve ever listened to and each track is sure to give you chills. Library Manager’s Pick — Kyle Hooker ’24 Album: “June Rich Debut” — June Rich Genre: Folk Rock RIYL: Indigo Girls, Melissa Ethridge, The Chicks Blurb: I was organizing CDs in the station last week and came across this album from a somewhat obscure artist I had never heard of before. I saw from the label that they are 90’s folk rock, a genre that I generally enjoy, and the short review sticker claimed they are similar to the Indigo Girls, a great band. Overall, the album has a nice vibe — beautiful vocals and harmonies from two talented singers — with some nice witty lyrics and plenty of edginess.  Music Director’s Pick — Chad Kim ’23.5 Album: “The Forgotten Edge” — Molly Lewis Genre: Tropical, Ethereal  RIYL: Weyes Blood, Sufjan Stevens Blurb: In a fairly niche genre where the instrument is your mouth (but you don’t use your mouth for singing), Molly Lewis is arguably one of the best whistlers of our time. She will lull you into tranquility as this album takes you on a journey through the sounds of the west. A recommended setting to listen to it would either be somewhere high up watching the sunset or in a sauna.  Social Media Director’s Pick — Kai Velazquez ’23 Album: “The Man Who Sees Tomorrow/ Lodarore” — Uwade Genre: Acoustic, Indie, Folk RIYL: Anjimile, Joy Oladokun Blurb: There are only a few songs that can quiet down the anxious thoughts in my mind, and those are Uwade’s tracks. Her vocals are soft and gentle, like an autumn lullaby that people can huddle around to feel its warmth. These songs are dedicated to her father, Dr. James I. Akhere, who passed away last year. Uwade sings to remind us that community love is essential to our survival, that we can’t afford to stand alone because “we make each other who we are.''

Maggie Wise named NESCAC Player of the week

Maggie Wise ’22 has helped lead the Middlebury volleyball team (8–0) to its strongest start in program history — and she was named NESCAC Player of the Week in the process. In the team’s 5–0 opening week, Wise hit .417, averaging 3.8 kills per set. After a home opener straight-set sweep over St. Michael’s College, the Panthers attended the Wheaton Invitational, where Wise, an outside hitter, earned 28 digs, six block assists and six service aces. Though Wise and other seniors are in leadership positions this year, they were sophomores when they last competed. Several players in Wise’s class have been getting playing time since their first year, which has helped with the transition process. “We essentially have two freshman classes because the sophomores have no real game experience,” Wise said. “The St. Mike’s game was a good way to get everyone playing time.” Wise said she knew the team could go 5–0 at the Wheaton tournament after their win against St. Michael’s College. “Our level of play has been awesome, and I think everyone, in spite of not having that playing experience, has stepped up to the plate,” she said. In her last competitive season in 2019, Wise was named to the Second-Team All-NESCAC and was ranked seventh all-time for kills per set at Middlebury, averaging 2.90. Head coach Sarah Raunecker remarked on Wise’s seamless shift despite the missed season. “Maggie arrived as a very talented hitter and has grown in her ability to mix up her shots, her consistency and is hitting with even more power now,” Raunecker said. “She made an immediate impact with her physical skills but has emerged as a more vocal and confident leader over the years.” Wise commented that the year and a half off due to the Covid-19 pandemic did provide some silver linings for the team as they were able to take time to reassess their team dynamics. One way the team has worked on this is through creating a list of various words and themes — including composure, grit, grace, respect and integrity — for the team to stand by.  Wise mentioned that these words hold more meaning behind the scenes and noted they have been a beneficial way for the team to remain focused on their values and goals, even when not playing competitively. “Maggie is consistently one of the best players on the court yet remains so humble about her abilities as an outside hitter,” teammate Lucy Ambach ’23 said. “Off the court, Maggie has such a good relationship with everyone on the team. MCVB is so lucky to have such a responsible, strong and confident leader.” Off the court, Wise is an Economics major and Architecture minor as well as participates in  community friends, a program that connects children in Middlebury with college students. Middlebury’s volleyball team has been running workshops and practices with Middlebury Union High School’s newly-created volleyball club, a great help to the school given that volleyball is not widely played in Vermont.  Since Maggie’s Player of the Week nomination, Middlebury has bested Colby-Sawyer, Colby and Bates, each 3-0. The Panthers have only dropped one set thus far in its 8-0 campaign. Middlebury hosts a conference game against Amherst, who is also undefeated, at 7 p.m. on Friday, Sept. 24.

Reel Critic: “Tenet”

Christopher Nolan’s “Tenet” is without question one of the most narratively and visually complex films that I’ve ever seen. One might guess this given the nature of the plot, which follows a CIA agent, known only as the Protagonist (John David Washington), on his mission to save the world from ruin at the hands of Andrei Sator (Kenneth Branagh), a Russian oligarch who is working with an entity in the future to destroy civilization in the present. Sator communicates with this entity by means of inversion, a technology that reverses the entropy of an object or person and sends it backwards through time. Add to this dizzying concept a screenplay that moves through complicated expositional dialogue at a breakneck pace and images of characters moving through time in opposite directions, and what you’re left with is an unapologetically confusing film. Unapologetic is the key word, of course, because Nolan is aware of the complexity of the cinematic yarn he is spinning, and he knows how to keep us engaged until the cloth is spun. Nolan’s expertise is apparent in the skillfulness of the screenplay. The movie is two and a half hours long, but it runs with incredible briskness, a feat that is the result of its pacing. He knows that the inversion technology is the most fascinating aspect of the story, so he plants its full reveal in the middle of the film and gradually lifts the curtain on it throughout the opening half. There is palpable narrative tension as we walk step by step with the Protagonist, dodging inverted bullets and fighting a man moving in reverse, all while trying to piece together the mystery unfolding around him. When the Protagonist finally witnesses inversion in the open for the first time during a car chase halfway through the film, the staging is brilliant. Composer Ludwig Göransson’s score reverberates from the screen, Neil’s (Robert Pattison) panicked questioning increases anxiety as he hears voices speaking over the radio in reverse and cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema’s deliberate tracking of an inverted car barreling toward the Protagonist’s vehicle work together harmoniously to unsettle the viewer and confront them with the menacing technology at the center of the story. Beyond its structural prowess, Nolan’s screenplay also excels on a human level. The director’s treatment of a desperate mother (Elizabeth Debicki) fighting to save her son from her crazed husband is intensely realistic and often hard to watch. Simultaneously, the Protagonist’s repeated willingness to sacrifice his mission to save those around him creates a strong moral bond between him and the audience. In one particularly moving scene, Washington and Pattinson’s characters share a moment that shifts the film’s focus from technical sci-fi devices to a simple theme of friendship. “Tenet” also benefits from a second key feature that defines any Christopher Nolan film: spectacle. Scenes like a packed opera house coming under siege by terrorists, a pair of agents rappelling up a Mumbai skyscraper and a 747 airliner crashing into a warehouse all occur within the first 45 minutes of the film. The amount of action that Nolan packs into this movie is remarkable, especially given that almost all of it was accomplished using practical sets and effects. This action was captured on 65mm IMAX film cameras, providing sweeping scale and clarity to match the film’s ambitious story. The picture is supplemented by a truly powerful soundscape that will literally shake the viewers’ seats. It is a visceral experience, best exemplified by the opening opera sequence’s unnerving mix of an orchestra tuning and Göransson’s rumbling blasts laid over shattering gun shots. The moment when story, sight and sound all blend to create an overpowering cinematic experience always sticks with me at the end of a Christopher Nolan film. “Tenet” isn’t his best work. It never reaches the dramatic heights of “The Dark Knight” trilogy, it doesn’t possess the narrative mastery of his earlier, smaller projects and it never touches the pathos achieved by his work in “Interstellar” and “Dunkirk.” But “Tenet,” in all of its complexity and grandeur, aims high and hits its mark, all because its filmmaker had confidence in his vision. That conviction rubs off on us as we watch, and before we know it, we are right there with Nolan, committed to a world where reverse entropy and temporal pincer movements reign supreme.

Notes from the Desk: This time, on paper

It’s been 553 days since we last printed an issue of our newspaper. It’s been 555 days since we were told that we were being sent home from campus due to the pandemic; it’s been 555 days since we gathered in our basement office to work on publishing an issue that looked very different than it did mere hours earlier. It’s been 557 days since we sat in a circle outside of our office, munching on Green Peppers pizza, while we discussed an emerging pandemic that seemed miles away from our small Vermont campus.In the past 553 days, we’ve continued to write, even while scattered across the globe. We’ve advocated for a safer environment for students and fairer wages for staff. We’ve written about all of the ways that Covid-19 has touched student life, and community life, at and away from Middlebury.Despite navigating lives marked by isolation, uncertainty and sometimes grief, we’ve still managed to put out a paper each week. And now, we return to print. Among the writers of this piece, one of us has never edited a print copy of our paper. Our staff is full of new faces, the majority of whom entered our office this past week for the first time. And even for some of our more seasoned staff, this fall was the first time they stepped foot in our humble basement office.It’s been a week of introductions, reunifications, and a cautious sense of normalcy, even as many editors are unaware of what “normal” is. While our paper has persisted online, the return to print represents a new era of The Campus, but in a familiar form. This print paper may feel like just a collection of words and photos, but our return to print is about more than taking what we run online and putting it on paper. With a newspaper, we are able to hold the material, tangible product of our work; we can see it scattered across dining hall tables, on the newsstands outside of the student center. Most importantly, it can reach the hands of our readers, of our friends, colleagues, professors, and staff, regardless of their ability to access our content online. In print, we present a collection of stories and photos written by a collection of students, curated within twelve, thin pages that bear witness to the actions of those around us and provide a capsule of a point in time — of this particular point in time. And at a time when many of us are relearning what it means to be a Middlebury student, we’re relearning what it means to be a community newspaper at Middlebury.  

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A semester in (book) review

“Nothing To See Here” by Kevin Wilson I began my semester off with a bizarre read. “Nothing to See Here” follows a nanny tasked with taking care of a U.S. senator’s two children. At first glance, the twins appear to be normal kids, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Bessie and Roland spontaneously combust when they’re upset, a rather inconvenient trait for the children of a well-known public servant.  This book is a wonderful read. Lillian, the nanny, is tasked with keeping the twins from catching fire. However, she comes away having learned much more than she expected. Lillian desperately needs these children, and they desperately need her. I loved this book and found it both heartwarming and laugh-out-loud funny. “Nothing to See Here” is a great book for people who like character-driven stories with a twist.    “Catch and Kill” by Ronan Farrow  I devoured “Catch and Kill” while living in a cabin in the woods, which somehow felt fitting, as I wanted to be alone with it. In “Catch and Kill,” Ronan Farrow investigates allegations against Harvey Weinstein and attempts to bring them to light via NBC News. However, it was shockingly difficult for Farrow to publish the allegations. Influential people backed Weinstein, resisting any effort to bring this predator to justice. “Catch and Kill” gives horrific insight into how powerful, privileged and wealthy people can intimidate journalists and silence victims of abuse.  This book made me very frustrated with celebrity culture. When I first read the allegations brought against Weinstein, I naively assumed that it would be easy for Farrow to expose him. At times it felt like “Catch and Kill” was going in circles and that Farrow was not going to succeed in publishing Weinstein’s abuse. However, I came away with deep admiration for Ronan Farrow. He sacrificed his physical safety and the future of his career in order to give a voice to these women. His investigative journalism is brave and important.    “Hamnet” by Maggie O’Farrell  Wow. This book is truly a work of art, and it was appropriately named one of The New York Times’ Top 10 Books of 2020. Allegedly, William Shakespeare had a young son named Hamnet, who died in 1596 at the age of 11. His cause of death remains unknown — Shakespeare noticeably fails to mention the bubonic plague in any of his plays, leading some to believe that it was the cause of Hamnet’s death. Maggie O’Farrell crafts a fantastic novel from this theory. She imagines that Hamnet died of the plague, and the novel revolves around that pandemic and its repercussions. The author also crafts a larger narrative of what the family of one of literature’s most famous men might have looked like had more information been shared.   “The Four Winds” by Kristin Hannah  It is not easy to make me cry. Well, that’s a lie, but books do not usually make me cry. This one is an exception; I had tears streaming down my face as I turned the last page. And it goes to show author Kristin Hannah’s skill for historical fiction writing.  “The Four Winds” is about a family living in Texas in 1934, during the Dust Bowl. The Martinelli family is hanging on by a thread. The dust storms have destroyed their crops, and they must decide whether to suffer at home or journey out to California, the “land of opportunity.”  Ultimately, this book is about a mother and the lengths she will go to to protect her children and create a better life for them. Elsa and her children are vibrant characters that you can’t help but root for.    “Know My Name” by Chanel Miller  “Know My Name” is a must-read, and its importance cannot be overstated. Before she wrote “Know My Name,” Chanel Miller was known as the Emily Doe in the Brock Turner Stanford rape case. In “Know My Name,” Miller tells her story and reclaims parts of her identity after being reduced to a victim in the public eye. She discusses her assault and the grueling experiences that followed. She shares how she was not believed nor supported by Stanford or by the legal system as a whole.  Chanel Miller stands up for survivors everywhere and, at the same time, refuses to be defined solely by the worst thing that has happened to her. I was inspired and humbled by her strength, resilience and vulnerability.    “The Silent Patient” by Alex Michaelides John Faber is a psychotherapist in London with a particular fascination for Alicia Berenson, a woman who shot her husband five times and has not spoken a word since. Why did she pull the trigger? Why did she become silent after she murdered her husband? These questions and more make an unputdownable thriller.  This book is absolutely bone-chilling. If you’re a fan of unreliable narrators or books that make the hair on the back of your next stand up, this one's for you.    “People We Meet on Vacation” by Emily Henry  Now on to summer reads! If you enjoy romance (even a smidge), run — don’t walk — to pick up an Emily Henry book. She is the master of beach reads (funny, considering one of her books is even called “Beach Read”).  “People We Meet on Vacation” is about Alex and Poppy, two longtime best friends who go on vacation together every summer. However, they have not spoken since an incident that occurred two summers ago. Poppy feels like she has one last chance to repair their friendship, and find out if they could be more than friends. This book reminded me of “When Harry Met Sally” and “Love, Rosie.” It is the perfect book for fans of friends-turned-lovers. 

The People’s Kitchen Fuels Vermont Workers Center

The Vermont People’s Kitchen, a Burlington-based community kitchen, provides food for the community and fuel for action.  The People’s Kitchen first sprang up in 2011 during the Occupy Burlington Encampment, and  quickly became affiliated with the Vermont Workers Center, an advocacy group currently working on the Healthcare Is a Human Right campaign. The People’s Kitchen serves food for events, such as rallies and protests, that the Workers Center hosts. They also serve free food to people in need. In many ways, the People’s Kitchen has become a “brand ambassador” of sorts for the Vermont Workers Center, conducting outreach and organizing events on their behalf.  “The People’s Kitchen is family … the People’s Kitchen serves love,” People’s Kitchen member Lydia Diamond said.  Both Diamond and FaRied Munarsyah, another member of the People’s Kitchen, emphasized the strong sense of community and kinship that the People’s Kitchen fosters.  “Through the People’s Kitchen there is a reward, not a financial reward, but there is a reward of having camaraderie, each one helping the other,” Diamond said. The People’s Kitchen’s ability to operate on a day-to-day basis is heavily dependent on the cooperation of all members of the community; they are able to feed the community in Burlington through donations and mutual aid. Members of the community can receive free meals from the People’s Kitchen, and in return they get involved in various ways, such as simple tasks like spreading the word about the work being done there or donating a couple dollars to the organization to more hands-on contributions like making deliveries or preparing food.  Diamond calls the work being done at the People’s Kitchen “community action.” Their goal is to come together and provide hot, delicious food that is meant to nourish the community in a time when many people are struggling to make ends meet. Especially with the Covid-19 pandemic, the struggles that working class people were already facing have been exacerbated and many societal disparities heightened.   “[The People’s Kitchen] both shows the inefficiencies of the current system but also proves that a different model — a more community-minded, a less profit-oriented model — could work even better than the current charity model,” Munarsyah said. The “charity model” is the system that corporate charities in America currently follow, in which food is donated to licensed charities and then distributed to the public. “The law is written to protect the market system,” Munarsyah said. He referenced the fact that it is against the law to give food away for free if you are not a registered charity. “We’ve been inspired to take care of ourselves because nobody is going to do it for us. If we want to get somewhere we have to fight for it, and we have to do it by ourselves. We can’t count on charity, as the charity model is undignified, and families that actually need the food are unable to access it,” Munarsyah said. Though the Vermont Workers Center is a predominantly white organization, the People’s Kitchen has a predominantly Black and Brown team. As Black and Brown people have become the face of the People’s Kitchen, they have been brought to the forefront of the Vermont Workers Center’s movements. According to Munarsyah, members of the Black community in Burlington have been able to make their voices heard in this way.  “We’re not just here to survive, we’re here to thrive,” Munarsyah said.  The People’s Kitchen is not a charity. The People’s Kitchen is meant to fuel systemic change in society by bringing people together through food. “Food is foundational to society, and if we are to transform society, we have to change the way food is produced and the way food is consumed,” Munarsyah said. 

Local Abenaki Chief Don Stevens talks land acknowledgement

This year, Middlebury College officially instituted a land acknowledgement to be read during all official college ceremonies. The statement recognizes that the college sits on land that belonged to the Western Abenaki and calls for the remembrance of the Indigenous community’s “connection to [the] region and the hardships they continue to endure.” Chief Don Stevens (DS) of the Nulhegan Band of the Coosuk Abenaki Nation sat down for an interview with The Middlebury Campus (MC) to discuss the land acknowledgment and the next steps toward justice. MC: Could talk a little bit about your perspective on Middlebury College’s land acknowledgment and what is the significance of that statement to you? DS: I think it's great, and it shows how forward-thinking Middlebury College really is when it comes to not only land acknowledgment but also working with our community by going beyond just acknowledging land. I tell people land acknowledgement is meaningless and hollow if you do a land acknowledgement but then don’t allow Native people access to the lands you hold. Right? Because you’re acknowledging you’re on unseated land or whatever that was the Abenaki but oh — by the way — you can’t access it.  So that's why I'm working with Middlebury College to have access to the lands that they hold to use for collecting Native foods, medicines and maybe interpretive science, or finding other ways to support our food security programs. We do have bison and cattle, so maybe [there is] hay that could come off some of the lands to feed our animals. So the acknowledgement itself is pretty historic because I think that's one of the first colleges that have actually openly made a commitment to not only a land acknowledgement but also actually putting programs in place to work with Indigenous people. I think it's very important that Middlebury is showing that leadership and commitment. MC: What do you think the land acknowledgement accomplishes, if anything, and what steps does it take toward justice, if any? DS: Anything that you either apologize for or acknowledge, you can’t build upon something that you haven’t acknowledged as either an issue or something that needs to be corrected. You have to acknowledge a situation to logically and confidently discuss, “What does this really mean?” and, “What does it really mean to do a land acknowledgment?” Is it just words on the paper, or is there something substantially meaningful behind it — knowing that we were oppressed people and others have benefited from the land that we once owned? What kind of position does it put us in, by acknowledging the fact that Midd is on our lands that were taken from us and that we never gave them up willingly? [Acknowledging] the fact that that happened says, “Okay, how do we then build equity? How do we work in partnership?”  European governance is not going away. But neither are Indigenous people. So if you want to right the past, how do you equally share the land for the benefit of both — instead of one using the land at the expense of someone else? So, by Middlebury acknowledging the fact of the land and working toward uplifting our people — like through the language program, through land access, through food security — then you're actually living out what you're talking about in the acknowledgement. I think that's what that means. It means that it's a beginning point to work toward partnering to provide equity. MC: What are some ways that the land acknowledgement could be improved?  DS: I think that carrying out the spirit of that land acknowledgement can be more. In other words, it's already good that [the college is] working on these programs, and I think having a full-time position at Middlebury College to be able to work on education of the students [could] be a resource — being there to create a Native American student body club for other Native students that may not know other Native students that exist in the college, to create a safe place to practice your culture when you're away from home and be able to build that bond between Native people that might be on campus. And having someone be that mentor to that club, and building a curriculum around Native studies. So, I think there are ways to improve upon the spirit of the acknowledgement that we're working on, because you can't do everything overnight.  MC: What are some of the major challenges you and your communities are facing right now? DS: We fall into lateral violence. We're the only race that can self-declare. We had to go through a physical legislative process to even be a legal Indian in the United States, and nobody can just say, “I'm Indian” and be covered, you have to be a citizen of a state or federally recognized tribe. So if you're not a citizen of one of those tribes, you're not technically legally an Indian, even though you really are based on the laws of the United States. If you're Indian, you have to have a card in your wallet that declares that you are legally a status-Indian in order to really be protected under the law, which is a shame. That is shameful. But then it creates different statuses. You have federal-status Indians, state-status Indians, and then no-status, who don't have recognition. And then, it puts you in a different class, so some people may think federally recognized is a higher class.  So you have different lateral violence between Native communities, because they set you up in a segregated manner to separate people by class. That to me defies everything the United Nations Declaration on Indigenous Rights have set up. Part of that is that you should be able to self-declare who you are, just like every other race. But the U.S. has adopted that method, so we have to live within the means that have been given to us, so we have a lot of disparities on many fronts. MC: Have there been any specific challenges relating to Covid-19?  DS: Well, I think the Covid situation has really put collaboration on hold on a personal face-to-face basis. Also, the Covid situation has hit the college hard financially, so it's hard to be able to do new programs and open up new avenues when you've been hit financially.  Overall, it really shows our food insecurities when we have people standing in food lines trying to get food, and that's why I work on our food security programs. People are afraid of the [Covid-19 vaccination] shots [due to] misinformation, or it could be transportation, [or it] could be fear of getting shots [while] other people really want them. So, there's a whole mixed bag, but there's nobody concentrating on educating people on what's causing those disparities. Why are there [fewer] people in our communities being vaccinated than others? We don't know. And that's what really hindered us as well, and it exacerbated the problem. MC: Is there anything else you are thinking of that might be relevant? DS: I challenge the students and the faculty to find out what Native pieces are in their world or their circle. [Were] there Native things on the land that Middlebury sits on? Are there gardens that have medicinal and Native spirituality connected to [them]? Are there things in your archives that could help with our historical information on Native people in Vermont or elsewhere?  How do we find that information? And how do we get it to paint a bigger picture of actually what involvement Middlebury College has had with Native people over the years?” I think, overall, I need to say that Middlebury College is doing a great job feeling their way through something they have never had to deal with before and actually being genuine and trying to work with our population — so we have to give kudos to Middlebury for doing that. I also want to say that we should make sure or ensure that we continue this partnership moving forward because it is so important to the diversity of not only the students but also the education piece of it. But there's always work to be done and we don't really know [what that looks like], but I have to say that Middlebury has been on the right path. It takes a lot to turn a big ship right. Editor's Note: This interview was edited by Local Editor Kenzo Okazaki for brevity and clarity.

Mister Up’s celebrates 50 years of brews under the bridge

Tucked away on Bakery Lane, below the Cross Street bridge crossing Otter Creek, is a Middlebury landmark: Mister Up’s. Founded in 1970 by Middlebury native Ronald Mainelli, Mister Up’s has been a longtime gathering spot for college students and the greater Middlebury community. The restaurant celebrates its 50th anniversary this year.  According to current Mister Up’s owner and manager Rick Buck, Mainelli named the restaurant after his favorite restaurant in New York City, Mrs. Down’s. Mister Up’s has had four owners throughout its past 50 years of business, but Buck and his partner have owned the pub since 2012.  Today, the restaurant typically accommodates a mix of Middlebury locals, parents and students attending college functions, such as Fall Family Weekend, according to Buck. With a dining room capacity of about 200 people and an 80-person outdoor deck, Mister Up’s is spacious enough to host large groups for sports teams, anniversaries or other events. “Homecoming is a big event, along with annual basketball team, hockey team and swim team dinners,” Buck said. In the past, Mister Up’s was a popular weekend spot for students. Alumni who attended Middlebury in the late  ’80s shared memories of enjoying their times at the restaurant because of its welcoming atmosphere, food and drink selection and affordability.  Heather Bohr ’89 described the restaurant’s versatility as a reason Mister Up’s was a favorite of hers. “We used to go there for après-ski in the late 80s after cross country skiing at Breadloaf. It was so much fun to sit at the bar, get to know the bartenders and drink warm alcoholic coffee drinks,” she said. As the year progressed and ski season ended, Mister Up’s remained one of Bohr’s top choices for off-campus dining with friends: “It was always such a happy moment when the deck opened in the spring and we could sit by the river.”  Kristen Homer ’90 recalled Mister Up’s as a common pregame spot. “I think we mostly went for appetizers and a drink before heading out to parties on campus,” she said. In the late ’80s, students benefited from the “grandfather clause” of Vermont’s 1986 law that raised the drinking age from 18 to 21 years. The clause allowed anyone who was legally allowed to drink at the time the law passed to be exempt from the higher age requirement. In other words, any student who turned 18 before the law went into effect in 1986 retained their legal right to purchase alcohol. Tom Crowell ’90 recalled the grandfather clause as particularly exciting for Middlebury students in the late ’80s coming from areas of the country that did not offer the same exception. “For many of us, the drinking age was still 18 [in Vermont] unlike our home states, so this was a new thing adding to the college experience,” he said.  Mister Up’s was able to capitalize on the large proportion of the student body still allowed to legally drink. Crowell noted the restaurant offered “an extensive cocktail list of frozen blender drinks and mixed drinks like $2 long island ice teas and tap beer.”  In addition to being a fun drinking spot, Mister Up’s was chosen by some students as a good place to share a meal with a professor. Sarah Evans ’89 recalled a fond memory of going to Mister Up’s for dinner with a friend and one of their favorite biology professors, Steve Trombulak. “I remember thinking about seeing him in a different light — a person — not a professor. It was fun to have a chance to know him in a different setting and relate on a different level,” she said. Bohr also noted that the restaurant was ideal for a more romantic outing. “The salad and bread bar made dates easy because there was something to do. You could get up, get more bread, walk around. It was definitely the favorite spot for a date,” she said. In addition to the salad and bread bar, Bohr enjoyed the offer of a unique dessert selection: “I remember their gigantic alcoholic ice cream drinks: White Russians and Grasshoppers.” The salad and bread bar and spiked ice cream floats are no longer offered on the Mister Up’s menu, but the pub food selection remains intact. One of Buck’s favorite recent introductions is an appetizer he named “Thumbs and Toes.” These boneless chicken tenders, fried and tossed in signature sauces or rubs, are one of the restaurant’s most popular items, according to Buck. This type of pub food was especially enticing compared to the regular dining hall offerings. Evans commented,“Back when I was in school, the food on campus was unremarkable and uninspired, so dinner out was a real treat.”  Covid-19 has disrupted many of the events that alumni fondly remember and current students still hope to enjoy. Buck was disappointed that Mister Up’s could not have a large 50 year anniversary celebration as originally hoped. However, he feels fortunate that they were able to reopen indoor dining under Vermont state guidelines in June 2020, and they have been able to keep indoor dining open for the past 11 months. “Take-out [and catering] are typically a large part of Mister Up’s’ sales,” he explains, so the restaurant was well-positioned to continue generating business throughout the pandemic.  Shifts in owners, menu adjustments and cultural changes are inevitable over the years, but Mister Up’s has maintained many of the qualities that cause alumni to remember their time there so fondly to reach the milestone of 50 years of business.

When did you last feel ‘alive’?

It was October 2, 2020, after dinner. Somehow, I was convinced that it would be a fantastic idea to bike all the way down College Street, holding a cup of boiling hot coffee in my left hand. “I do it all the time. Look!” Rena circled her bike around me while sipping on her coffee, encouraging me to take the leap of faith.  Rena is that friend who, after your epic bike fall, would always arrive first. She’d be dialing PubSafe’s hotline for help while at the same time making a snow angel, right next to the spot where you ate dirt. I nodded at her, ceremoniously. 20 seconds later — right in front of Munroe, my bike tripped over my fragile self-esteem. I quickly looked down, but oops — my left hand was choking the hell out of the paper cup... not the brake. And then, I flew off the bike, landing face down on the concrete.  When I opened my eyes again, I found myself at Voter, but my bike had practically flown all the way to Shaw’s. I stood up. For a second, I couldn't hear, feel or see anything. All I could do was call Rena (who had already safely arrived at Davis with her coffee) and inform her that, oops, I spilled the coffee, and by the way, broke my front tooth as well. “I’m coming. Just a sec. How are you feeling?” she asked. How am I feeling? Um … good question. I could taste my dignity and my front tooth shattered in my mouth. I could hear God listening to my heartbeats in his Airpods. I’m actually feeling … quite …. alive. “I’m feeling so alive!” I didn’t know it was possible to feel this alive at a place like Middlebury. And yet here I was, feeling more alive than ever.  * * * Technically speaking, I’ve always known that I was alive. Sometimes though, it becomes hard to remember that. My day-to-day  — and that of those around me — is so congested with Zoom classes, homework, extracurriculars and partying. For the past two years, what Middlebury has taught me is that workload and alcohol can actually accomplish the same goal — that is, to numb yourself from the fact that you are in a “toxic relationship” with Middlebury. I hope I can say that I’m alone in this, but I’m afraid the truth is that many of us here are “alone” together in this same unbreakable cycle of this toxic relationship.  It all starts with your first semester: you brave through cascades of classes, clubs and parties, hoping for some good time and good friends along the way. But all the people you end up meeting look so cool, so smart, so occupied, so strong-and-independent, and so ... utterly uninterested in you.  Rather than being seen, heard, valued and loved, you are only abused through and through by endless deadlines, peer pressure, beauty standards and the lack of genuine human connections. Whenever you are awake, you are reminded that you are not seen, not wanted and not appreciated. If this is the feeling of being alive, then you’d rather not feel so alive. You don’t dare to feel so alive.  To refrain from being caged in this feeling, you detour around self-confrontation and embark on another journey to brave the homework and alcohol.  But I bet there must still have been a moment or two, where the workload overload and the alcohol hangover simply could not overlap. Maybe it starts in the morning: you roll out of your bed, you look in the mirror, but no matter what you try you just can’t seem to convince the person in your mirror that they are enough. Or, perhaps it was at night: under a streetlight, on the way back to your room from Davis, you try but you simply cannot prove to your shadow that you are someone worth following.   The work and the alcohol have failed you, completely. You know you are alive (technically), but it just does not feel true.  * * * Throughout 2019 and 2020, professors Robert W. Moeller and Martin Seehuus in the Psychology Department conducted extensive research to explore the transitions of young adolescents into adulthood to specifically address their susceptibility to mental health issues during this vulnerable phase. Experiments were then carried out to demystify whether “loneliness mediated the relationship between anxiety and depression and social expressiveness, sensitivity, and control.” After close scrutiny of the mediation models, the irony slapped me right across the face: we have long been conditioned to think the aftermath of social rejection is intense and immediate “emotional upset,” including sadness, anxiety, stress, and depression; however, based on scientific research and my very own heartaches, the initial response to social exclusion is instead marked by “an emotional numbness or lack of feelings.” In other words, this is analogous to being alive without feeling alive.  Similar to the temporary pain insensitivity I experienced after my epic bike fall, emotional numbness is what consumes many of us here at Middlebury College — those of us who are trapped in the tortured tango of half-assed intimacy, tiptoeing to the tune of the beauty standards, masculine mystique, mundane materialism, hustle culture and hookup culture. Even in a regular year pre-Covid, being a student at Middlebury (where people are perhaps willingly subjected to imposter syndrome, parental expectations, social norms, etc.) can be a pain in the ass. With the current Covid-19 restrictions, we are only repeatedly reminded that the more things have changed, the more they stay the same. As an international student living in the U.S. since the age of sixteen, I have tried to tame this inner bogeyman of mine that repeatedly whispers into my ears, telling me, “Hey, you are not seen; you are not not wanted; you are not enough.” It has haunted me and trapped me into feeling more alone than I actually am. And it has left me wondering whether  I — as a stranger to the snowfall and the higher education of Middlebury — am the most noticeable and the most invisible at the same time. More often, though, I caught myself being puppeteered by this inner demon, falling victim to the temptation of numbing myself — not wanting to fight, but to flee — and not daring to confront myself that I am alive without feeling like it. For the past five years, there were indeed flashes of moments where I thought I had killed that inner demon: when I graduated from United World College and embarked on the world-traveling Semester at Sea cruise ship, I thought I was finally going to be “cool” (ugh, what a childish construct). When I dragged my musical instrument (which is taller than myself) to busk in a Brooklyn metro station that smelled like rats and pee, I thought I was finally seen. When I was suddenly invited to perform in Carnegie Hall on a day when I only made 2.5$ (metro fare is 3.5$) when busking, I thought I was finally valued. And finally, when — after creating my YouTube channel (which, let’s be frank, has only 15 genuine subscribers) —  my social media was flooded with creepy dudes’ “Hello, wink” messages, I thought I was finally desired.  I thought those would be the moments when I would find myself most alive, but after a flash of not being truly seen but rather being garishly exposed, I was again left alone, in the middle of the night, staring into the chasm of darkness (actually, just my ceiling), at the bottom of which there was that dormant inner demon waking up from a cozy nap, staring back up at me with its sleepy eyes.  Who could have known that it would take one random bike accident on a random school day — when God playfully pressed the pause button in my random little life — to wake me up to the fact that I had been alive all along. When I stubbed my toes into my bookshelf and screamed enough four-letter words to make my mom cry, I felt alive; when I biked around Addison County, listened to the winds and moo-ed to the cows along the way, I felt alive; when I emailed all of my Zoom friend crushes to see if I could be their friend, and then nervously waited next to my phone, I felt alive; when I looked into somebody’s eyes and told them I wanted them in my life (even though I was, and still am, so stubbornly proud), I felt alive; when I made an elegant exit from a nasty heartbreak, where I mustered all the strength that was left and thanked them for a great journey before quitting, I felt alive; when I finally freed myself from the burden of likability and shrugged my shoulder to the haters, I felt alive; when I tried to make my grandma smile (who can barely hear me anymore) by making weird faces throughout our entire weekly video call, I felt alive; when I hugged my friends and whispered to them “oh my, we need to work on this, you hug like you’re trying to escape,” I felt alive; and, when I fell off my bike with a cup of coffee in my hand, I felt alive… What I’m learning is that I have been alive all along.    Kexin Tang is a member of the class of 2022.5.

Behind Sunday Tacos, Alejandra savors home from Mexico to Middlebury

Stuck on campus for the entire semester, many students long for home-cooked meals and the warm smile of someone preparing food just for them. Alejandra’s Tacos supplies both, accepting orders for tamales, empanadas, tacos and more.   The go link go/sundaytacos leads to a sign-up form for Alejandra’s email list. And the menu, which goes out to her email list Friday evenings, changes each week. Alejandra makes the deliveries Sunday at 12:30 p.m. at the drop-off shed in front of 75 Shannon Street. Alejandra prioritizes affordable prices over profit — $3 for each item on her campus menu — because, above all else, she wants to be able to share the joy of her cooking and culture with those around her.  “I was born poor, and I’m sure I will die poor as well,” Alejandra said. “I’m never going to be a millionaire, but that’s not my goal. I have a different, more human goal: to create bonds, to give a little bit of Mexico to those who don’t know her, and, for my countrymen, to give them a dish that makes them remember their mother, their home, their grandmother. That’s what I want, and that’s what makes me happy.”  Alejandra makes all of her food by hand, including the flavorful salsas that accompany each order of tacos and the corn masa shells encasing each empanada. Students can order for a Sunday lunch or stock up on items like tamales to pop in the microwave for a delicious meal throughout the week whenever dining hall food isn’t quite doing it for them. In addition to now selling food to Middlebury students, Alejandra sells a wider variety of dishes out of her home in Addison County each Sunday and prepares meals for migrant workers on a daily basis. She hopes to continue to grow her business and save up enough money to eventually return to Mexico.   Alejandra first immigrated to the U.S. in 2009 from her hometown, Querétaro, in central Mexico, joining her father in North Carolina. He owned a Mexican restaurant and taught her how to cook when she was not working her job at the paper factory. Within a year, her father moved back to Mexico to be with her mother, and Alejandra moved to Vermont, where she struggled to adjust. The cold came as a brutal shock to Alejandra, who had never seen snow before. She spent her first winter stuck inside her house, unable to drive on the icy roads, longing for the community she left behind. Soon, she met and fell in love with the man who would become her husband and began cooking for her own family. Over the next couple years, they had three daughters together — twins who are now 11 years old and their now nine-year-old little sister.   While her husband went to work at a dairy farm, Alejandra struggled to find a job. She takes great pride in her work ethic, and she couldn’t afford to sit idle. She needed to support her parents back in Mexico, and her medical bills for her diabetes were a constant strain on the family’s finances. Alejandra decided to start her own business selling food to other migrant farmworkers, many of whom work 12- to 14-hour shifts, leaving them little energy to cook.   Her business and her reputation grew steadily as she began to cater some college events, providing food for the Spanish house, Juntos and other groups. Two years ago, she was offered an opportunity to teach a Mexican cooking class at City Market in Burlington. She quickly befriended her students with her vivacious personality and unfailing optimism, and they encouraged her to branch out and sell more of her own food.  She started a mini restaurant out of a makeshift kitchen she set up in her garage and began selling food on Sundays. Over the last two years, her business has grown considerably, almost entirely through word of mouth. She now employs one or two other women each week to help her out.  Sundays are a marathon. Alejandra begins cooking at 4 a.m., and the other women arrive to help her five hours later. They cook “until the meat runs out,” sometimes stopping at 2 p.m. and sometimes continuing until 5 p.m. It's grueling work, standing on her feet in a hot kitchen all day, though the music and the company of her friends lightens the load considerably. “My body is tired,” Alejandra said. While the hard work combined with her diabetes symptoms leave her completely drained, she still loves to cook.  “Cooking is like therapy; it takes away a little of the sadness,” Alejandra said. “I’m not thinking about when I can return to Mexico. Instead, I feel comfortable and relaxed. It excites me to think about how my dishes will taste, if it will taste good. I love to see the happy faces of people when they say, ‘This is delicious!’”  Though she loves Vermont, Alejandra longs for home. She misses the market she used to visit with her mother. Perusing the stalls for ingredients to use in their dishes, they would chat with local farmers selling their harvests and friends and acquaintances they ran into. She misses Sunday evenings when she would sit on the benches outside of church after mass and lick an ice cream cone from one of the vendors parked right outside the gates as everyone mingled in the afternoon glow. Most of all, she misses the sense of community and togetherness imbued in every aspect of life in Mexico.  Some days, Alejandra closes her eyes and imagines she is a bird. With just a few flaps of her wings, she is airborne, soaring over the Vermont pastures, past the Carolinas where she first lived after migrating to the U.S. She flies across the border, over the Rio Grande, and through the desert. She imagines in just a few minutes, a few wingbeats she will find herself back home. But when she opens her eyes, the spell is broken. She feels closest to home on Sunday afternoons when her customers gather on her lawn to eat her food. They set up picnic blankets and chat amongst themselves about their lives, troubles and families. Gazing over the picturesque tableau each week, Alejandra is reminded of the community she left behind in the new one she is creating through her food.  “I think that cooking is a form of communication, of demonstrating love, of creating bonds with those you love,” she said. “It’s a form of saying, ‘I love you, and I care for you.’ And that’s why it makes me so happy to cook.” Editor’s Note: The interviews in this piece were conducted entirely in Spanish, and the quotes were translated by the reporter, Sophia McDermott-Hughes. The translation of all quotes featured in the piece were corroborated by an independent native speaker. Alejandra’s full name has been redacted to protect her privacy.

I was praised for my “civility” after I disagreed with Dr. Peter Kreeft. Reality is more complicated.

“I believe in God, and the right to self-determination of transgender people. Do you see a contradiction in my beliefs? Can I still be a Christian?”This is the question I asked Dr. Peter Kreeft, a recent campus speaker who was invited by the Newman Catholic Club, and whose views I deeply disagree with. Dr. Kreeft, a professor of philosophy at Boston College, has recently become known for addressing “transgenderism” at Catholic forum events. His words attempt to portray trans people, and what they do with their own bodies, as repulsive and immoral.  For example, Kreeft has described gender transition as “surgical mutilation.” His personal website also showcases his opposition to gay marriage, the equality of women and men in the Church, feminism and abortion.My goal in engaging Dr. Kreeft was to engage with those attending the presentation by modeling an alternative to his bigotry. I often describe myself as a progressive Christian, and I see the unconditional uplifting of marginalized peoples as a central pillar of my faith. As a gender-nonconforming person, the exploration of my gender identity and my gradual liberation from shame has brought me closer to divine love, not separated me from it.Dr. Kreeft’s invitation undermined a Middlebury community in which transgender people are valued, respected and treated as equals. All difficult conversations require a baseline of mutual respect that Dr. Kreeft repeatedly failed to meet. During our exchange, Dr. Kreeft repeatedly questioned my cited statistics about the epidemic of violence against trans people — particularly Black and Indigenous trans people of color. He even went so far as to ask me why he hadn’t read about these murders in the Boston Globe — although the Globe published a list of murdered Black trans people just a few months ago.While I personally found Dr. Kreeft’s ignorance unsurprising, I found his resistance to new information to be genuinely irresponsible and shocking. When I told him that his presence on campus had made LGBTQ+ students feel unsafe, he scoffed at me. He then labeled trans-ness a “controversial issue” and asked: “Why should that controversial issue make you feel unsafe?” In resisting empirical facts and rebuffing my vulnerable and honest account of my community’s feelings, Dr. Kreeft proved himself unworthy of Middlebury’s academic environment, which prides itself on evidence and care.I know that Dr. Kreeft’s presentation will provoke yet another round of the free speech debate on campus. My personal feelings on the free speech debate are complicated. Before I came out — that is to say, before I publicly held a marginalized identity — I’d often wish that members of opposing groups on campus could just find a way to get along, or at least seek civil discussion. Today, I understand that however much some may complain about excessive “wokeness,” campus discourse is often tilted against the marginalized.If you’re skeptical of that last point, try thinking of it this way: In the current paradigm of academia, it can be easier to call into question the basic rights of a group of people — to make those rights “debatable” — than to consistently and actively humanize that group. Due to the very nature of the profession, it’s sometimes easier for academics to “deconstruct” the debate over trans rights into a series of arguments, philosophies or data sets than it is to affirm trans people’s fundamental humanity. This year, we’ve seen this attitude reflected in the anti-trans actions of state legislatures across the country.In practice, this deconstruction is aided by three factors: first, a reluctance to empathize; second, the weaponization of ignorance — I’ve never heard of that, and I think I’m well-informed, so how can you be right?; and third, an overreliance on hard, decontextualized “data” that too often reflects biased power relations and marginalization more than truth.All three of these deep flaws of intellect form the foundation of Dr. Kreeft’s anti-trans arguments. For example, when I told Kreeft that LGBTQ+ people were uneasy about his presence on campus, he refused to empathize with me. When Kreeft questioned my statistics on violence against transgender people, he attempted to weaponize his ignorance against me.The last of Kreeft’s argumentative flaws — his reliance on decontextualized “data” — requires a bit more recap from our conversation to explain. Kreeft’s introductory argument against trans people relied on a convenient separation between the body and the mind. According to Kreeft, “the only two possible solutions” for an individual uncomfortable with their gender “are either to change the mind or to change the body — which of those two is the more irreversible?” This is a convenient position easily disproved by the fact that the brain and body are deeply connected in ways we are just beginning to understand. Kreeft also conflated one’s sex chromosomes and the gender binary— another scientific “fact” that is actually far more nuanced (sex determination in humans is not a binary process).Both of these rhetorical points — just two in a patchy web Kreeft attempted to weave during our debate — derive their power from decontextualized, outdated assumptions. It’s clear to me that the only thing stringing that “data” together was ideology. Flaws in academic thought make it all too easy for bigots like Kreeft to prioritize such ideologies of supremacy over the truth of equality. We must demand, and commit ourselves to, a healthier relationship with evidence.But wait, I can hear some of you saying, aren’t many arguments in favor of trans rights intellectual in nature? Yes, some of the more academic arguments for trans-ness respond to the need to defend trans rights in a dehumanized setting. But trans people’s accounts of their experiences, and the positive outcomes of their being treated how they wish, should be evidence enough for what side is correct here.I won’t argue that Dr. Kreeft should have been barred from speaking; I don’t believe that. Rather, I wish he’d never been invited, that the Newman Catholic Club’s leadership had entertained the most basic of consideration for their LGBTQ+ peers. If we are going to exist in a community with one another, we all should put our best foot forward in inviting open-hearted, respectful speakers to campus — traits Dr. Kreeft did not display during his (virtual) time here. In practice, this means taking the time to properly vet speakers and asking them difficult questions. Are you willing to have your mind changed during your presentation? Will you bring your full and vulnerable self to the table in addition to your intellectual arguments?Finally, for those eager to criticize the backlash against Dr. Kreeft, I’d only ask that you take a moment to think about any marginalized identities you might hold and how you’d feel if a vocal opponent of your identity visited campus. Then proceed with your critique. You have a right to your opinion on this, and I have a right to mine.But next time this happens? If you want a civil, free exchange of ideas, choose your speaker carefully, and please pick a better candidate than Dr. Kreeft.

In Defense of Inviting Dr. Peter Kreeft

I think that it is a sad reality that inviting a Catholic intellectual who believes all the teachings of the Church to Middlebury is scandalous, but such a state of affairs is not nearly as surprising to me as it once was. In my nearly three years on campus, I have seen multiple instances of intolerance toward traditionally religious viewpoints. As President of the Newman Catholic Club, I wanted to organize an event that would engage everyone in the Middlebury community. Dr. Peter Kreeft, a practicing Catholic, was an obvious choice. He has written over 80 books on Christian philosophy, theology and apologetics — many of them geared toward college students. He has been a professor in the philosophy department at Boston College for decades and has spoken at countless campuses. In a meeting via Zoom, the Newman Catholic Club board was pressured by a religious life administrator to “reconsider” our invitation of Dr. Kreeft. The administrator asked us to “reconsider”— to cancel — our invitation to Dr. Kreeft because of his views on gender theory — which had no bearing on the content of his talk. The Newman Catholic Club decided not to “reconsider” our invitation of Dr. Kreeft. While I cannot speak for all Newman Club officers, the first reason why I refused to “reconsider” Dr. Kreeft’s invitation is because of my view of the purpose of a liberal arts college. College provides us all with the time and leisure to pursue truth and to think seriously for ourselves. To “reconsider” Dr. Peter Kreeft’s invitation on the basis of his difference of opinion with the campus’s orthodoxy on gender theory seemed antithetical to the whole reason we study at Middlebury. Further, I am the first member of my family to attend college, and I did not accomplish this just so that I could be told by other people what ideas and views I can and cannot consider. There is some disagreement over the purpose of a liberal arts education. I once heard the analogy that Middlebury is a seminary, wherein only an orthodox perspective can be promoted. I think this view is derogatory toward seminaries: seminarians are very well-read people and they are exposed to plenty of “heretical” perspectives. Even the Vatican has its “devil’s advocate.” The analogy of Middlebury to a fundamentalist religious group is more appropriate: certain students desire for Middlebury to be rid of any speaker that is not in agreement with their doctrine. If anything were worthy of an anathema at a liberal arts college, it would be this view. The second reason why I refused to “reconsider” Dr. Peter Kreeft’s invitation is that I believe that Catholicism is one of the most charitable religions, as we believe that God is infinite in love and mercy. Dr. Kreeft’s closing words at the lecture expresses this principle: “all human beings must be accepted as creatures of God, children of God, lovable and beloved. That’s one absolute nonnegotiable.” Whereas the administrator thought that the interview wherein Dr. Kreeft shares his views on gender theory were hurtful, I read the interview to be that of a person that is genuinely sensitive, charitable and faithfully representing the Catholic Church’s teaching. It is love that informs Church teachings. Bishop Barron has said that “[s]ince God is love, the Church is endeavoring to place every aspect of human life--personal, social, political, cultural--under the aegis of love. And love is willing the good of the other as other.” The Church also believes that “speaking the truth is love.” In Matthew 19:4, Jesus refers to Genesis 5:2 when he says, “Have you not read that he who made them from the beginning made them male and female.” The Church interprets this and other Scripture verses in such a way that it has a view of the relationship of body to soul that is incompatible with modern gender theory. The Church’s unitive vision of the person can be seen in St. John Paul II’s “Theology of the Body” and the Congregation For Catholic Education’s document, “Male and Female He Created Them.” A third reason why I refused to “reconsider” Dr. Peter Kreeft’s invitation to Middlebury is the precedent that it would set. If we were to “reconsider” Dr. Peter Kreeft’s invitation for his Catholic views on gender theory, then Pope Francis would also be ineligible to speak at Middlebury, as he has been quite vocal against gender theory. The Newman Catholic Club would be unable to invite many Catholic intellectuals to speak at Middlebury College. The Committee on Speech and Inclusion correctly stated that “[a]ttempts to curtail speech that is considered offensive or controversial by some can lead to a chilling effect,” namely the soft ban on traditional religious believers from stepping foot on our campus. I want to express my gratitude to Middlebury for respecting free inquiry and dialogue. Furthermore, in spite of the preponderance of unproductive behavior from some protestors such as tearing down our posters, we ensured (as planned) that everyone who had a question could ask their question. In overtime, the final question came when a trans-identifying student challenged Dr. Kreeft on his view on gender theory. I commend this highly. This student’s exchange with Kreeft gave us all a sense of what honest dialogue looks like when we treat one another with respect. When I informed Dr. Kreeft about the controversy surrounding his invitation, he responded brilliantly: “Everyone has an absolute, a God: either the real one or an idol.” I think that too often, people have let their political beliefs serve as their absolute and thus political disagreements become the basis on which they seek to cancel others. I object to that view, and instead share the one promoted by St. Mary’s Fr. Luke: “As we are created in the image of the triune God, we are called to dialogue, not to cancel.” Pedro Guizar is a member of the class of 2022.

Zeitgeist 3.0

The pandemic introduced a new variable to our data this year, one that fundamentally shifted the rhythm of Middlebury students’ existence. While previous Zeitgeist surveys asked students about belonging and how identities coalesce, this year we pondered what tethers Middlebury students together — even when we’ve been asked to keep our distance.  Separated by masks and unable to congregate in the ways we know, it can be difficult to get a read on the pulse of the Middlebury community. Did the policies enacted to protect our physical health affect our interpersonal relationships? How many hours per day do students spend looking at a screen? Has the pandemic changed sexual behavior? Does Middlebury feel like home?  In the third annual Zeitgeist survey, a project that interweaves data and the written word to paint a picture of life at Middlebury, our theme is “connection.” With a 43% response rate, the results represent a cross-section of the student experience, though some student voices — namely students of color — are underrepresented in these results.  Though the struggles of this year have been collective, every individual has learned, languished, and lost differently. As a world beyond the pandemic seems more possible than ever, we hope these Zeitgeist results provide insight about what we should carry into a post-pandemic Middlebury — and the things we should leave behind. 

!function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var e in a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var t=document.getElementById("datawrapper-chart-"+e)||document.querySelector("iframe[src*='"+e+"']");t&&(t.style.height=a.data["datawrapper-height"][e]+"px")}}))}(); !function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var e in a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var t=document.getElementById("datawrapper-chart-"+e)||document.querySelector("iframe[src*='"+e+"']");t&&(t.style.height=a.data["datawrapper-height"][e]+"px")}}))}(); When asked what the most pressing issue of our day is, respondents overwhelmingly mentioned both the environment and racial justice before any other issues. The term “climate” was mentioned in 377 responses and 119 responses mentioned “racism.”  Also prominent were “inequality” with 72 mentions and “racial” with 64 mentions. Notably, “inequality” was included in only 43 responses last year — not even a top 10 word — while “climate” was by far the most popular word, mentioned 535 times.  The rise in mentions of racism and inequities reflects year-long national conversations about police brutality and systemic racism after the killing of George Floyd over the summer.  Many responses emphasized the institutional nature of social issues, with 41 responses mentioning “capitalism” and 25 responses mentioning “systemic.” Others highlighted how they are intersectional: One student responded, “Racial Capitalism (it is the basis of all injustice),” while another wrote, “Capitalism, misogyny, racism, global warming… they all feed off each other and to compare oppressions is to contribute to the problem.” “Covid” was the ninth most common response, appearing 37 times, with one student writing “Stop over-controlling us with Covid rules.” Many student responses reflected feelings of fatigue and hopelessness: “figuring out WTF is going on,” one student wrote. “Literally everything,” wrote another. One student chose a more perennial issue: “the amount of schoolwork.” !function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var e in a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var t=document.getElementById("datawrapper-chart-"+e)||document.querySelector("iframe[src*='"+e+"']");t&&(t.style.height=a.data["datawrapper-height"][e]+"px")}}))}(); Overall, the majority of students — 56% — say that the value of cancel culture depends on the situation. Others remain skeptical, with just over 10% of students responding with “unsure.” Responses also varied to a degree based on race. Notably, white students were the least likely to think that cancel culture is valuable; black students were most likely to express that cancel culture is not valuable.  !function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var e in a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var t=document.getElementById("datawrapper-chart-"+e)||document.querySelector("iframe[src*='"+e+"']");t&&(t.style.height=a.data["datawrapper-height"][e]+"px")}}))}(); The student population remains very left-leaning, with slight variation among student populations. On a scale from 0 (far left) to 10 (far right), the student population falls at an average of 1.96. The mean for varsity athletes is significantly less liberal at 2.87, compared to the non-athlete mean of 1.80. The means of Black and white students fell near the population sample average — at 1.87 and 1.89 respectively. Asian students are most right-leaning of all racial groups, with an average of 2.53.  !function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var e in a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var t=document.getElementById("datawrapper-chart-"+e)||document.querySelector("iframe[src*='"+e+"']");t&&(t.style.height=a.data["datawrapper-height"][e]+"px")}}))}(); !function(){"use strict";window.addEventListener("message",(function(a){if(void 0!==a.data["datawrapper-height"])for(var e in a.data["datawrapper-height"]){var t=document.getElementById("datawrapper-chart-"+e)||document.querySelector("iframe[src*='"+e+"']");t&&(t.style.height=a.data["datawrapper-height"][e]+"px")}}))}(); Middlebury students tend to care a great deal about politics, and more than 80% of students say that they “care a lot about a wide range of issues” or “care a lot about a few specific issues.” Female and non-binary students expressed greater interest in political issues: 86% of female students and 96% of non-binary students expressed “caring a lot” — whether it be a wide or narrow range of issuess — compared to 76% of male students. 

Giants Have Us In Their Books: Spring’s first faculty theater performance brings stories of change and growth

Think back to when you were younger, to a time when your creativity and imagination transported you into alternate worlds and transformed you into different versions of yourself. The childlike sense of wonder may be long gone, but fairytale daydreams have the lasting power to make difficult moments seem less daunting — even if just for a moment. The Middlebury College Department of Theatre’s production of “Giants Have Us in Their Books,” which ran from April 16 to April 18 both in person and online, transported its audience back to the fairytale stories of their childhood, while weaving in some of the harder things to deal with.  The play is a collection of short works written by two-time Obie Award winner José Rivera, the first Puerto Rican screenwriter to be nominated for an Oscar.  Rivera referred to the plays that comprise Act 1 as “the naïve plays,” stories which deliver realistic situations, like the trials of puberty and lying, with an air of lighthearted, fairytale-like wonder. Act 2 was a more sobering, introspective collection of short plays written by Rivera a decade later in 2017, and included timely topics like homelessness, grief and the effects of the  New York State’s 2011 Marriage Equality Law.  Associate Professor of Theatre and the department’s chair, Alex Draper, directed the performance.  “When it became clear that we were going to attempt to resume in-person performing this spring, Olga Sanchez Saltveit, who is directing our upcoming production of Branden Jacobs Jenkins’ “Everybody,” and I both began looking for plays that would honor our commitment to feature more underrepresented voices on our stages while also taking into account the considerable Covid-19 restrictions and their impact on how we can safely rehearse and perform” Draper said.  The faculty, cast and crew worked on “Giants Have Us in Their Books” through the difficulties that the pandemic has created for artists.  “[I] selected a group of plays that fit the talents of the cast, were joyous and slightly other-worldly, but that also spoke to issues that echoed beyond our immediate everyday lives,” Draper said. He explained that the plays were written in such a way that they could be rehearsed mostly in groups of two, and could be performed without actors overcrowding backstage areas and dressing rooms.  The curtain opened on a short scene called “Flowers.”  Lulu (Sara Massey ’23), a 12-year-old girl, begins the play with what looks like a pimple on her face, but the bump slowly grows into a tapestry of leaves and flowers all over her face and body: a metaphor for how, through puberty we are brought from adolescence to adulthood and taken over in ways we cannot control. “When it’s over you’re completely different, unrecognizable,” Massey said in her performance. Mostly though, we grow into better versions of ourselves with time, much like seeds transition to buds, which grow to become leaves. A short play, called "The Tiger in Central Park” closed out Act 1. This urbanized myth and parable for AIDS featured the supposed existence of a mythical beast: a human-by-day, tiger-by-night, reported to be strolling around Central Park. “[‘The Tiger in Central Park’] aimed to tackle sexuality and death, and establish a relationship between these two major aspects of human existence,” cast member Beck Barsanti ’23.5 said. “In my interpretation, sexuality and death were things that every character tried to control without fully understanding the implications of either one.” After the intermission, Act 2 opened on “Charlotte,” a scene set in a picturesque apartment. A homeless woman (Courtney Wright ’21.5 ) who does not want to be pitied, is taken in by a caring individual, and we see a verbal tug-of-war between the two. At last, the host, Felix (Masud Tyree Lewis ’22), expresses he had only hoped for Charlotte’s gratitude after he had helped her out of the rainy night, leaving the audience to wonder about the nature and sincerity of altruism.  The show concluded with “Lizzy,” a tense meal where two siblings address the passing of their mother, and “Paola and Andrea at the Altar of Words,” a reaction to the legalization of same sex marriage in New York State in 2011, shown through wedding vows.  “It was a joy to be able to share the plays with both live and virtual audiences,” Draper said of the performance. Looking ahead, he said,  “We have a busy spring lined up, with three of our majors presenting productions as their senior independent theses, and we close the season with Olga Sanchez Saltveit’s production of Everybody in and around Wright Theatre.”

A data journalism piece may tell a thousand words but requires a thousand words of gratitude. First and foremost, we would like to thank the 1,041 survey participants for entrusting us with your stories. This project would not have been possible without you, literally.  Sarah Fagan ’22 contributed her incredible artistry with the header graphics for each section. The Campus’ leadership team of Hattie LeFavour ’21, Riley Board ’22 and Bochu Ding ’21 provided the vision, guidance, and oversight needed to make this project operative. Tony Sjodin ’23 provided excellent counsel and leadership in shaping the survey and every step thereafter. Emmanuel Tamrat ’22 breathed life into Zeitgeist with his technical expertise and creativity.  Thank you also to Benjy Renton ’21, who spearheaded Zeitgeist last year and provided the infrastructure, troubleshooting skills, technical training workshops and immense additional support. Your generosity and commitment to your work is unparalleled and critical to the success of this project.  We also want to extend our gratitude to Executive Director of Food Operations Dan Detora for generously supporting the project by providing declining balance for our raffle. Director of Health and Wellness Barbara McCall, Executive Director of Health and Counseling Services Gus Jordan and ADA Coordinator Jodi Litchfield’s suggestions and input were critical in forming last year’s survey questions regarding mental, sexual and physical health at Middlebury, which were used in this year’s survey.  Finally and most importantly, thank you to Campus readers like you who engage with our stories, tell ones of your own and push our coverage to be the best it can be. We hope that you will continue to support Zeitgeist and share your thoughts to continuously improve the project for subsequent years.