Opinion

The Corne¬ Daily Sun

Independent Since 1880

138th Editorial Board

JOYBEER DATTA GUPTA ’21

Business Manager PETER BUONANNO ’21

Associate Editor MEGHNA MAHARISHI ’22

Assistant Managing Editor CHRISTINA BULKELEY ’21

Sports Editor BORIS TSANG ’21

Photography Editor CAROLINE JOHNSON ’22

News Editor ALEX HALE ’21

News Editor ARI DUBOW ’21

City Editor EMMA ROSENBAUM ’22

Science Editor BENJAMIN VELANI ’22

Dining Editor JOHN MONKOVIC ’22

Multimedia Editor MIKE FANG ’21

App Editor OLIVIA WEINBERG ’22

Assistant News Editor MADELINE ROSENBERG ’23

Assistant News Editor LUKE PICHINI ’22

Assistant Sports Editor HANNAH ROSENBERG ’23

Assistant Photography Editor BRIAN LU ’23

Assistant Arts & Entertainment Editor ANNABEL LI ’21

Assistant Money & Business Editor LEI ANNE RABEJE ’22

Layout Editor JOHN COLIE ’23

Blogs Editor JOHN MONKOVIC ’22

Multimedia Editor WINNY SUN ’20

Newsletter Editor AMANDA H. CRONIN ’21

Senior Editor RAPHY GENDLER ’21

Senior Editor ALEC GIUFURTA ’21

Senior Editor MARYAM ZAFAR ’21

Editor in Chief

JOHNATHAN STIMPSON ’21

Managing Editor KRYSTAL YANG ’21

Advertising Manager JASON HUANG ’21

Web Editor NIKO NGUYEN ’22

Design Editor PALLAVI KENKARE ’21

Opinion Editor SEAN O’CONNELL ’21

News Editor KATHRYN STAMM ’22

News Editor ANIL OZA ’22

Science Editor EMMA PLOWE ’23

Arts & Entertainment Editor MAIA LEE ’21

Money & Business Editor ANYI CHENG ’21

Compet Manager CATALINA PEÑEÑORY ’22

Assistant News Editor MEGHANA SRIVASTAVA ’23

Assistant News Editor EMILY DAWSON ’21

Assistant Sports Editor BEN PARKER ’22

Assistant Photography Editor DANIEL MORAN ’21

Assistant Arts & Entertainment Editor MIKE FANG ’21

App Editor DOMINIC LAW ’22

Assistant Dining Editor ALICIA WANG ’21

Graphics & Sketch Editor MEI OU ’22

Production Editor AMBER KRISCH ’21

Blogs Editor SARAH SKINNER ’21

Senior Editor PARIS GHAZI ’21

Senior Editor NICOLE ZHU ’21

Senior Editor JEREMY MARKUS ’21

Senior Editor

Congratulations

Class of 2021Columnists:

Peter Buonanno | The Wyckoff Club Pallavi Kenkare | Jabberwocky Paris Ghazi | La Vie En Prose Robyn Bardmesser | Impolitiburo Michaela Bettez | Bet on It Canaan Delgado | The Land of Canaan Darren Chang | Swamp Snorkeling Kristi Lim | Riskit Kristi AJ Stella | Stellin’ It Like It Is Aminah Taariq-Sidibe | I Spy

From the 138th Associate Editor

Once More Unto the Breach, Dear Friends

Well, we finally did it.

After three Editorial Boards and a handful of columns, I write to you as a representative from The Sun’s graduating class of editors. It’s an honor I am humbled by.

I want to begin by saying thank you from the bottom of my heart to each and every reader of The Sun. From Slope Day announcements to editorials calling for reform, you rose in support of our journalism and taught us the importance of serving as a voice for the community. It’s an obligation that we don’t take lightly. Paraphrasing former Sun editor Raphy Gendler ’21, we will all take with us the lessons we learned from telling real people’s stories day-in and day-out. Most importantly, though, you held us accountable for our mistakes and made our staff better human beings as a result.

Secondly, I want to say how proud I am of the Class of 2021. In the face of immeasurable trial, Cornell’s Class of 2021 served as a case study on acting with honor and integrity for the University — even for the nation — as the proverbial 100-year-storm (well, pandemic) changed life as we know it.

Lastly, I want to thank my colleagues at The Sun. You worked tirelessly to serve your community. You worked 40 hours a week for zero pay. In a time when the public was unsure of the future, you sacrificed everything and reported on a trauma which you too were enduring. Fellow editors, you inspired me and will continue to inspire me in your future endeavors.

With that, I urge you once more unto the breach, dear friends. To all at Cornell, continue to lead the world into a brighter future.

Peter Buonanno Te Wyckof Club

Peter Buonanno is graduating from the College of Arts and Sciences. He was the Associate Editor on Te Sun’s 138th Editorial Board, the Arts & Entertainment editor on Te Sun’s 137th Editorial Board, an Assistant Arts & Entertainment Editor on the 136th Editorial Board and an opinion columnist on the 139th opinion board. Tis is the fnal installment of his column Te Wyckof Club.

Farewell, Wyckof

Dear Cornell,

I write to you today with tears in my eyes and taped up boxes surrounding me. The day is May 23, it’s about 4 a.m, and it has suddenly hit me that I will be leaving our haven on The Hill in one week’s time.

As you might imagine, It’s a thought that’s both exciting and devastating.

To begin, I can’t wait for next weekend to share a place that means so much to me with my family and friends. I cannot express my gratitude enough to Cornell and our community for sacrificing so much so that the seniors got to be recognized on their graduation day. Further, I’m thrilled to move down to Washington in a few weeks with a handful of my closest friends that I made far above Cayuga’s waters.

Yet, the time that has been lost weighs heavy on my mind. I’ve all but forgotten what the insides of my favorite buildings look like. I’ll miss my daily coffee and cookie at Green Dragon. And the “what if’s” that have defined this last pandemic year are making themselves woefully apparent.

But the fact of the matter is, I’ll soon process through campus. And I’ll I can do is make the most of these last seven days I get to spend atop The Hill.

While I’m sure other college students feel similar about their institutions, I’d like to think there’s something different about bleeding Cornell Big Red. The connection I feel to this school goes beyond a hockey jersey. And although I can’t put it into words, I’d imagine that a lot of you reading this column feel the same way.

So, rather than attempt to define what that connection means to me, I’d rather just thank those who have meant the most to me during my time here and offer a few suggestions for any students out there that might be feeling overwhelmed by the inevitable finality of their Cornell experience.

First, thank you to my professors in the Department of Literatures in English. At a time when I thought I’d never find something I was passionate about, you introduced a discipline which has changed my life forever. I want to especially thank Prof. Tom Hill who taught me that, no matter how outlandish they may be, my thoughts deserved to be heard.

Thank you to Kay at the Arts and Sciences career center who always dropped everything to help prepare me for job interviews. You are a huge reason why I landed a job that I’m going to love.

Thank you to the Trillium staff for always making me smile. And thank you to all student coffee workers on campus who put up with my involved orders.

Thank you to Risley for leading me to a chosen family. I am honored to have a place in a long lineage of Kommittee chairs.

Thank you to my fraternity for, even in the face of tragedy, carrying itself with grace. To the new members, my heart breaks for you everyday. Losing a brother is something that no person should ever have to endure at this age. Yet, you took care of our house in a time of grief and helped us live by the values that Phil embodied.

Thank you to my friends and girlfriend for making everyday, even during a global pandemic, feel like paradise. I will miss The Wyckoff Club with all my heart, but I’m excited to see the great things you will all do in the world.

Thank you to my family for sacrificing everything so that I could seize the opportunity to study at Cornell. The debt I owe you is not repayable. Although tuition bills certainly put a price tag on the Cornell experience, the relationships I’ve built and memories I’ve made here are invaluable. Lastly, thank you to The Cornell Sun for giving me a new lens to explore the world with. You entrusted me with the custodianship of this paper for nearly 3 years, and I’ll forever be grateful for that. Thank you to my wonderful co-editor Pallavi Kenkare ’21 for challenging me to be a better journalist every day. Further, best of luck to The Sun’s 139th Editorial Board. I have every bit of confidence that you all far exceed your predecessors.

To Cornell, I leave you with one piece of advice. That feeling in your stomach that you are on borrowed time is real and shouldn’t be ignored. Even as a freshman, I remember overlooking the valley from the porch at PSB, struggling with the fact that I would one day have to leave that view behind. I wish I realized how quickly Cornell could be taken from me.

Farewell, Wyckoff. Farwell.

To Cornell, I leave you with one piece of advice. That feeling in your stomach that you are on borrowed time is real and shouldn’t be ignored. I wish I realized how quickly Cornell could be taken away from me.

Loving Cornell Properly

Pallavi Kenkare Jabberwocky

Pallavi Kenkare is graduating from the College of Arts & Sciences. She was the Opinion Editor on Te Sun’s 138th Editorial Board and an opinion columnist on the 137th and 139th opinion boards. Tis is the fnal installment of her column Jabberwocky.

Everyone always says Cornell isn’t the place, it’s the people. Maybe this is naive, but it’s not like that for me. I know that I will take the people I’ve met here with me wherever I go (and if you think you know better, that bonds grow weak and memories fade, please don’t tell me). My brilliant roommates, my dazzling best friends and my beloved coworkers will stay with me. So, for me, what I’m really saying goodbye to is the place.

Confession: I didn’t love Cornell the frst time I visited. I was an angsty 17-year-old, leaving mid-eighties weather in Georgia to land in chilly, low-ffties Ithaca. I refused to take the campus tour with my parents and somehow got lost on the slope, walking up and down and around until I exhausted myself.

I redeemed myself, though. By the end of O-week, I fell in love with it here — and when you know, you know. I walked an average of seven miles a day that August, exploring every bit of campus my legs would take me to. I visited Sunset Park, climbed up the highest tower of the Law School and hiked Buttermilk Falls. I came to adore my nook in Clara Dickson Hall, met the girls who are my roommates and best friends to this day and, when it came time to move out, wept to Harry Hudsons’s “Yellow Lights” through the last week (’til the boy across the hall threatened to throw my speaker out the window).

Maybe it’s silly to think that four years of swimming in First Dam and standing on the roof of Kennedy Hall and photosynthesizing on the slope — and yes, swotting in Baker 200 and crying in the cocktail lounge and working so hard to justify reveling in the good parts — is what it means to love Cornell properly, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe the point is for each of us to graduate thinking, this is the right way, the only way, to have spent the past four years.

I am thankful for the runs I’ve taken, across waterfalls, along the Arts Quad and towards a triumphantly ringing clocktower. I am thankful for the summers I gloried in and the winters I marveled at and the temperamental springs. I am thankful for the lessons learned, for the snow falls survived, even for that one year that did not once pull its punches. I am thankful for the people I’ve met, the professors who have taught me, the fairy tale buildings I’ve studied in, the knowledge I’ve gained and the millions of moments I’ve spent laughing on this treacherous hill.

I am thankful for The Cornell Daily Sun, which is the reason I am able to write this article at all, and easily the most worthwhile thing I’ve done at Cornell — a responsibility that has humbled me, lifted me up and introduced me to men and women who are so much more at the ripe old age of 21 than I will ever be. When the beginning waves of a pandemic had just begun to break on Ithaca’s shores, my incredible editor-in-chief texted me a senior’s guest submission that I really should look at; as I edited it, and many times again throughout that year, I decided that working at The Sun, gleaning insight into the joys and woes and ideas of Cornellians from all over campus, was the only way to love Cornell properly. Finally, I can say to all the people on Facebook who commented, “Who would publish this piece of garbage?” Hi! Yes, it’s me!

This is what I will graduate feeling, and what I wish for all of you.

So, to quote the immortal lines of Sarah Park ’20, whose grad column I was lucky enough to edit a year ago,

“I hope you found a home here. I hope you found places in Ithaca that feel like magic. I hope you found people who make Cornell feel like a love story. I hope you found something or someone who made it hard to say goodbye to this desolate little icy town upon a hill in the middle of nowhere. I hope you fell in love with the person you became here.”

Because I did, and I hope you do too. As I sit typing in my slanty-walled little apartment in Collegetown, all I can think is, in the words of A.A. Milne, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Maybe it’s silly to think that four years of swimming in First Dam is what it means to love Cornell properly, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe the point is for each of us to graduate thinking, this is the only way.

Ithaca Is Gorges: In Bagels, in Invites, In Laughter, in Tears

Amanda Cronin Graduation Column

Amanda Cronin is graduating from the College of from the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. She was a Senior Editor on Te Sun’s 138th Editorial Board and News Editor the 137th Editorial Board.

Ifrst fell in love with Cornell at age ten. On a weekend visit, we did all the quintessential 161 list things: hockey game at Lynah, breakfast at CTB, walking the waterfalls, ice cream at the Dairy Bar. I was enchanted by the scenery and the campus culture, and my enchantment was enhanced by the many legends my mom (Class of ’87) shared with me. Cornell became my dictionary defnition for “college.” It’s image was infated like a parade balloon.

So come senior year of high school, despite touring dozens of other schools, I knew I already belonged to one place. I cried when I was accepted, ecstatic at the prospect of freedom to explore my multitude of interests.

Tis honeymoon came to a painful halt once I actually began classes here. I failed my frst test. I hated and subsequently dropped a class. As the calendar pages fipped, I changed majors and friends. Experienced more existential crises and breakdowns than necessary (even for a dramatic 20-something). I felt both lost and completely at home. Yes, I crossed breathtaking gorges on my way to class. Yes, I was (mostly) healthy and happy. But the bubble was popped; the system was broken, college wasn’t quite the movie montage I had hoped it would be.

My personal revelation was echoed on a national scale; our country was also experiencing an identity crisis. After spending my pre-college years fghting for climate change policy reform and witnessing the victory of the Paris Climate Accord, a dumb despotic leader took the reins and dashed any (perhaps naïve) dreams of environmental salvation. Witnessing the actions of Trump’s administration revealed that democracy wasn’t some gleaming, infallible institution, but a ramshackle patchwork held together with crumbling bricks. If nothing else, my education here has revealed to me that the systems I once blindly trusted are really corroded and dysfunctional.

Waking up to corruption and inequity is unsettling, but it’s also part of growth. I am privileged to have had my reverie shattered this way later in life. During our four years here, the class of 2021 has collectively witnessed a rollercoaster of unprecedented, challenging events locally and nationally. In response, we advocated for change. In some areas we took steps forward, in others, we took two (or three) steps back.

Despite these setbacks, being part of this inspiring Cornell community renewed my optimism that the corrosion can be remediated and function can be restored. I still believe in the power of individual and collective agency. During my time on campus, I tried to chip away at these issues in my own way, through policy change advocacy, political campaign organizing and voter outreach. I had the opportunity to represent New York district 23 as a delegate on the local ballot. And when Ruth Bader Ginsburg ’54, one of Cornell’s biggest heroes, fell, I helped celebrate her legacy in a campus-wide ceremony. Honoring her life was one of the greatest honors of my life.

My optimism about college was also renewed. It was renewed by venturing beyond the confnes of campus and my own mind. I discovered the Black Diamond Trail through running half-marathons, Edwards Lake Clifs Preserve through biking, Cayuga Lake through kayaking (and wine drinking). I auditioned for Te Vagina Monologues on a whim and ended up onstage chanting “clitoris” 20 times to 1,000 people. I drove across upstate New York to talk with voters about their political malaise. Local farmers taught me about the wonders of hemp, inspired me to learn more and ultimately write a 70-page thesis.

As a freshman at Te Sun, I was entrusted to write news articles about campus events and given acronin@cornellsun. com. As a sophomore, I was given a desk and welcomed to an ivy-covered building that would become my second home. And as a senior, I was given the opportunity to shape and contribute to our collective record of the historic events of the 2021 election.

Te venture I cherish most wasn’t a crazy adventure or an intense interview, but a humble meal. My frst semester, I accepted a dinner invitation to my Intermediate Yoga professor’s house. It was the best RSVP I’ve ever made. His family helped me discover the true meaning of community. Over countless plates of squash, rice, vegetables and ambrosial desserts, I shared laughs and bumped elbows with fellow students and Ithacans young and old. Tis Friday macrobiotic, vegan meal ritual continues to this day and has been one of the most precious parts of my time here.

So what would I tell my younger, eager freshman year self? It’s hard. Harder than you expected. It’s not a straight or predictable path to the fnish line. Your seasonal afective disorder will not serve you. Balancing work and life is an impossible pursuit, and the weather is depressing for 75 percent of the year. But you are lucky to attend school in one of the most beautiful, vibrant, crunchy college towns in the country! You can fnd fulfllment if only you step out of your comfort zone, and say yes to dinner invites! Te Commons is only 15 minutes away if you sprint down Bufalo Street! Tis place has so much to ofer beyond academics! Oh, and no, you will not master latte art, but you will master mediocre barista-ing at your dream workplace — CTB!

For these four years, there’s no place I would’ve rather grown than Ithaca. After listening to many tales of Cornell glory days gone by, I often wonder how I will remember and measure my trials, triumphs and adventures. Will it be in bagels, in slope sunsets, in midnight edits, in cups of cofee? In print pages, miles of hills walked, in laughter, in tears?

All I know is that I will happily contribute to the folklore of this place, but without the sugary coating. I regret that I didn’t get to complete the 161 list. (Te Rutabaga Curl, Chili Fest, PorchFest and Grassroots music festival are all still on my personal list). Tank goodness, they give me an excuse to come back home.

To my fellow Sun writers and editors: thank you for giving me the space to push my creative boundaries and a place to call home. I am so grateful to be part of a community of some of the most well-rounded, witty, compassionate people I know. I won’t claim that every delirious 2 a.m. night at 139 W. State Street was worth it, but the pages of work will be lasting evidence of our dedication to improving our surroundings. You all have given me every reason to stay hopeful for the future.

We Are What We Pretend to Be

Raphy Gendler Graduation Column

Raphy Gendler is graduating from the School of Industrial and Labor Relations. He was a Senior Editor on Te Sun’s 138th Editorial Board and was the Sports Editor on the 137th Editorial Board.

Iwas going to write a Miley Cyrus-inspired “Seven Tings I Hate About You,” where I detailed all the hard things about life at Cornell and then talk about how through it all, “you make me love you.”

Ten I decided to Google “Kurt Vonnegut quotes,” and this one is too good not to write about instead:

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.”

One of my favorite parts of college is existing in this bubble, where we get to delay being real people for a while to learn, meet people and have fun. In a lot of ways, it’s a pretend world. Students in business clubs pretend to be business people, kids in English classes pretend to be literary scholars, members of student boards pretend to be high-ranking officials.

Working at The Sun for four years felt real: In a university environment where so much happens within this Cornell bubble, I felt like journalism was a part of real life that made an impact beyond campus. But really, this was a pretend school club too. I pretended to be a hockey writer, news-breaker and storyteller; really, I was a kid making friends and memories, doing some journalism work along the way.

What we pretend to be shapes so much of who we become (when I wrote my first article, I thought about pretending to be a grownup and being Raphael instead of Raphy, but decided I wasn’t old enough for that). One of the great things about Cornell is that you can do anything and be anybody — they should really have a slogan about how any person can study anything. But for all the talk about what I want to be when I grow up, I found more important the opportunity to think about who I want to be when I grow up.

I love Cornell, and my least favorite thing about Cornell (this is the seven things I hate rolled into one) is that sometimes people think they’re cool for not liking it here, or that they’re in a competition for who is most busy and miserable. I haven’t done a formal poll, but I think that more people love it here and think they’re super lucky to go here than will admit it. Consider this an attempt to encourage people not to wait to discover and then keep pursuing what you love about this place.

At Sweet Melissa’s for their first day of the season recently, I saw a four- or five-year old kid, big smile, bright green-blue tie dye shirt and felt, with graduation a month away, a combination of old and nostalgic. Ice cream with some great friends was something I should’ve done more of but that I felt so lucky to have now, and that I’ll remember much longer than I will trying and eventually giving up on figuring out how interest rates work in freshman year macroeconomics.

What feels like 100 years ago, I was the sports editor of this friendly neighborhood paper. Sports have the power to unite us and create a powerful sense of community that’s hard to find at our fast-paced and big university. At a place where school spirit isn’t high during a cold February, a buzzing Lynah Rink during a playoff game was an escape from winter and a reminder of what it can look like when people come together.

I loved this job because there’s always a story in sports, something beyond the score of the game that brings people together: Triumph, heartbreak, drama, unity, politics. Serving as sports editor was a lesson that at the core of everything is people and relationships. I’ll take

with me the importance of telling real people’s stories and how these stories impact real life in ways that make a difference.

This is the self-indulgent part of the senior column that I said I didn’t want to write but here we are: Thank you to all the people at Cornell and The Sun who helped me grow up over the last four years. It’s been a wild time, and I feel like the luckiest kid ever to be able to say that if I could go back in time I really wouldn’t have done this any differently.

Thanks to everyone who read my work over the years, whether it was about hockey, the pandemic, or something in between. And thank you especially to my parents, who are probably the only ones to have made it to the end of this.

I’ll take with me the importance of telling real people’s stories and how these stories impact real life in ways that make a difference.

Tanks for Twisting My Arm

Christina Bulkeley Graduation Column

Christina Bulkeley is graduating from the College of Arts and Sciences. She was the Sports Editor on Te Sun’s 138th Editorial Board.

Sometimes, peer pressure can be a good thing. I don’t mean the kind of peer pressure you’re warned about in middle school health class — I’m talking about the gentle arm twisting that comes from friends or even acquaintances who have more faith in you than you might have in yourself.

When I first joined The Sun as a sophomore transfer, I had no interest in ever being anything more than a staff writer in the sports section who attended the occasional game. But somehow, enough people convinced me to keep on running for higher positions until I ended up leading the department.

It’s important not to rely on external motivation to achieve your potential, but every now and again, that extra push is exactly what you need. I never considered being on the editorial board of any student newspaper — in high school, I wrote exactly one article for our paper’s sports section before quitting. I only even went to a Sun recruitment meeting because my roommates at the time thought it sounded cool (they never ended up joining).

I am fortunate to have been peer pressured into attending that first info session and eventually into becoming sports editor. For every time I said I didn’t want to take on more responsibility because I didn’t have the time or possess the leadership skills, I’m lucky that whomever I was talking to told me I was wrong. One of the things I learned from The Sun is that you shouldn’t be afraid to say yes to new opportunities, even if you’re nervous that you’re not completely qualified.

I had my share of stressful times in the newsroom and disappointment at sporting events (even though we were technically impartial reporters), but there was also triumph. The first time I saw someone reading one of my stories in Libe Café, I took a photo (maybe a little weird, sorry!) because I was so excited that someone cared enough about what I wrote to actually pick up a paper and look at it in their free time. It was also strangely satisfying when a classmate — who evidently hadn’t paid attention to the byline on the back page — started describing one of my stories to me, thinking that they were providing me with some breaking news. I played along and asked them questions about the article.

While it might have been frustrating to never darty on Homecoming and to run late to weekend events with friends after an evening spent in the Lynah Rink press box, The Sun ultimately became one of the defining features of my Cornell experience.

For every event missed because I was covering a game or asking questions at a presser, I created an entirely different set of memories that I’ll look back on whenever I think about my college years. From going to an ECAC Tournament and sleeping on the freezing cold hotel room floor to complaining about Midnight Edit at one of The Sun’s infamous last-night-of-publishing parties, I got to be a part of some pretty memorable times.

I hate to think of how close I came to never running for an editorial position because of my inhibitions. Had I not listened to the people encouraging me to put more time into The Sun, my three short years at Cornell would have been so fundamentally different — and maybe a lot less meaningful.

Thank you to The Sun and everyone on it for all you have done to make my time on East Hill the college experience that I hoped for. And thank you for always pushing me. We had fun.