Spring 2013 - Issue 7

TUFTS OBSERVER

MAY 6, 2013

VOLUME CXXVI, issue 7

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a talk with cnn's AMANPOUR ( pag e 8 )

IN DEFENSE OF LIBERAL ARTS ( pag e 1 0 )

ON Political correctness ( pag e 1 8 )

3 misako Ono

No such thing as the real world by Angelina Rotman & Gracie McKenzie

Will Vaughan

Ellen Mayer

Zac Wolf

Robert Collins

Silicon City by Moira Lavelle

in a pickle by Eric Siegel

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Fracking by Ben Kane

home is the world by Charmaine Poh The Observer has been Tufts’ student publication of record since 1895. Our dedication to in-depth reporting, journalistic innovation, and honest dialogue has remained intact for over a century. Today, we offer insightful news analysis, cogent and diverse opinion pieces, creative writing, and lively reviews of current arts, entertainment, and culture. Through poignant writing and artistic elegance, we aim to entertain, inform, and above all challenge the Tufts community to effect positive change.

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Editors editor-in-chief Anna Burgess managing editor Kyle Carnes production director Ben Kurland section editors Eric Archibald Aaron Langerman Ellen Mayer Claire McCartney Gracie McKenzie Molly Mirhashem Kumar Ramanathan Angelina Rotman David Schwartz Evan Tarantino Megan Wasson publicity director Lenea Sims photography director Bernita Ling photography editor Misako Ono art director Flo Wen lead artists Izzie Gall Robert Collins design assistants Moira Lavelle Angie Lou copy editors Liana Abbott Anastasia Mok Sarah Perlman staff writers Justin Kim Alison Pinkerton Nader Salass editor emeritus David Schwartz

Contributors Natasha Jessen-Petersen Ben Kane Charmain Poh Eric Siegel Zac Wolf

COVER BY: Misako Ono

May 6th, 2013 Volume CXXVI, Issue 7 Tufts Observer, since 1895 Tufts’ Student Magazine

Table oF contents 2 letters A Letter From the Editor by Anna Burgess 3 feature No Such Thing as the Real World by Angelina Rotman & Gracie McKenzie Silicon City by Moira Lavelle 6 news news Fear, Feeling, and Fighting: Christiane Amanpour Talks International 8 On Reporting by Molly Mirhashem & culture 10 arts Liberal + Arts by David Schwartz campus 12 off In a Pickle by Eric Siegel inset 13 photo Spaces campus 17 off Summer Off the Hill by Gracie McKenzie & Aaron Langerman 18 opinion Police State University by Alison Pinkerton 20 opinion Fracking: A Potential and Profitable Nightmare by Ben Kane 22 campus Home is the World by Charmaine Poh 25 extras Senior Sign-off by Observer Staff

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Letter From the Editor: Four years ago, at the Class of 2013 matriculation ceremony, then-president Larry Bacow played us a song.

Other seniors may remember, or may not, but at our matriculation we sat and listened to Bob Dylan’s ‘The Times They Are A-Changin.’” Bacow prefaced the song by saying that he felt the way Dylan must have felt when he’d written the song: waves of change were upon us.

Looking at the national climate in September 2009, I can’t help but agree with President Bacow. It was less than a year since Obama had been elected, and the United States was in the throes of a major recession. It was a scary and exciting time to be leaving our childhood homes and embracing independence here at Tufts. Bacow, in playing that song, enhanced my fear and anticipation. A romantic, idealistic 18-year-old, I believed that our class would be swept into the waves of change and learn to ride them.

But seeing where we are now—as a class, a school, a nation—I feel that Dylan is more appropriate than ever. This year, Tufts’ new president Monaco danced in TDC, Obama’s victory was cemented by re-election, Olympic records were broken, and men jumped to Earth from space. Today, the day that I write this, US history has been made as basketball player Jason Collins has come out as gay—the first-ever major male athlete to do so. Times, again, are changing.

As for my dreams of the Class of 2013 rising to glory amid tumultuous times, those have changed as well.

Many Tufts students, I know, feel that they can change the world. I don’t doubt that some of us will change the world. After all, Tufts students campaigned for Obama. Tufts students are currently campaigning for LGBT rights. In the future, as things continue to change, members of our graduating class may find cures for diseases, found non-profits, write bestselling novels, run for president. These are the things I envisioned for us when I sat in my white folding chair at matriculation and pictured us riding the waves of change.

I envision something different now. As a senior about to graduate, I anticipate the world continuing to shift and grow around us as we move to enter it. But now, rather than us changing the world, I anticipate the world changing us. This is what I want for our class now. I want us to go out and be shaped by the world around us, the experiences we have and jobs we hold and people we meet. We should embrace the ways in which we will be affected by the world out there, rather than attempting to conquer and affect it. Rather than resolving, idealistically, that we must each make some huge impact on the world, we should resolve to feel its impact on us.

I have no doubt that there are students in the Class of 2013 that will make their mark on the world—Tufts teaches us that we can do this. But what college has also taught me is that relaxing, laughing at mistakes, and trying to be happy are maybe the most important goals of all. We will only really be able to make an impact if we accept the fact that the world has much more to teach us than we do to teach it.

In three weeks, the Class of 2013 will again sit in those white chairs on the academic quad. I have no doubt that “The Times They Are A-Changin’” will be running through my head. Because, really, times are always changing. So let’s just go with it.

Congratulations, Class of 2013!

Anna Burgess, Editor-in-Chief

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No such thing as the real world Angelina Rotman + Gracie McKenzie

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hether you’re a freshman, a senior, or in between, finishing the school year means taking a look at your future and figuring out where you want to be after you’ve earned your Tufts degree. Getting a nine-to-five job or going on to graduate school can sometimes seem like the only options, but the road well traveled can feel narrow and confining for some. After four years of activism and internationalism, Tufts graduates are particularly prone to feeling stifled in any cookie-cutter mold, and choose vastly divergent career and life paths.

Gregg Kallor (A’00) did what many people with a passion for music only dream of doing – a few months after graduation he packed his bags and went to New York City to make a career for himself as a freelance pianist and composer.

“It was like dropping into an abyss,” Kallor said, recalling his first days in New York.

Although Kallor says he’s still waiting for his career to get off the ground, since making the move to New York he has won the Aaron Copland Award for Composition, performed at Carnegie Hall, played for former President Bill Clinton, and he just released his first solo CD consisting of all original music, A Solo Noon, on April 30. He is both a classically trained pianist and jazz improviser, and has composed music for piano, orchestras, and pieces for chamber music. A nine to five job was never a serious option for Kallor.

“Sometime in high school somebody said–‘If you can possibly imagine yourself doing something else professionally, do something else,’” Kallor said. “I understood the point. It’s a very challenging career in a saturated market. Of course at the time I was very attracted to the romanticism of that idea.

I had no idea what that meant.”

While in college, Kallor considered doing something with his life that wasn’t music. As friends and acquaintances accepted job offers, the idea that there is a set professional career path one follows in order to be successful exerted its pull. In the end, however, he always returned to music. “I never felt as engaged and happy and satisfied as I was when I was writing or performing,” he said. “Even with all of the professional challenges, it feels right to me.”

Immediately after graduation, Kallor embarked on a trip out west for a month. It was an opportunity for him to clear his head and get MAY 6, 2013

away from everything. The recent death of a friend had left him grief-stricken, but resolved to live a life devoid of regret. It was on that trip, in the freezing cold and rain on a mountain, that Kallor decided it was time. He made a plan to move to New York and see what he could make happen for himself there.

It took some time to get acclimated, but when he did, Kallor fell in love with the “splendid chaos of the city.” His album, A Solo Noon, is influenced by the energy of New York, a musical ode to the city that inspires him. His album release concert is scheduled for May 30.

Kallor is not the only Jumbo living a more bohemian New York life. Another alum, Noah Rosenberg (A’05), is getting attention in the world of journalism for his newest venture: telling the city’s untold stories. Instead of the old adage that guides The New York Times, “all the news that’s fit for print,” his eight-month old website Narratively publishes just five stories a week. According to Rosenberg, these original, in-depth stories about New York City are those that “deserve to be told.”

For Rosenberg, the process towards building this site started in late 2008. Two years after graduating from Tufts with a double major in English and Spanish, he got a job at the Queens Courier, a chain of weekly newspapers, as their digital director. He pioneered their video-multimedia department, launched and managed their website and a new magazine, and wrote for their publications.

“I was doing a million things – it was a dream job for me in a sense,” Rosenberg explains. “Sure, it was a small outlet, but for someone who’s such a passionate storyteller, it was really great for me to be able to work in so many different formats and to practice telling these stories in the format I felt was best, which is a core principle of Narratively today.”

In the time just after the financial crisis in 2008, Rosenberg found himself worried about the future of journalism. He saw that the rise of online-only media outlets in addition to the constant competition between news sources and social media had created a vacuum for venues in which writers could showcase their longer work.

“I started to see a lot of high quality newspapers struggling to make that next step [to multimedia] and closing,” Rosenberg said. “I thought: What’s gonna happen to [journalists] like myself when these jobs disappear? And

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on top of that, what about longer feature reporting?” In the middle of one night, inspiration struck, and Rosenberg stayed up until morning sketching out his new idea in a notebook he kept next to his bed.

He says, “I thought, what if there were this platform devoted exclusively to feature stories? Then I thought, I always hated turning on the TV and seeing a newscaster telling a story that deserved to be told in 2000 words squeezed into a 25-second piece on the evening news. Or vice versa, a story that was really visually appealing told in a newspaper in 500 words instead of in a 10-minute documentary film.”

Long form feature stories told in the most effective formats formed Rosenberg’s main concept for Narratively. He “kept the idea in his back pocket” over the next few years, as he worked in multimedia journalism for various companies such as GQ and The Wall Street Journal, even travelling to South Africa to document the 2010 World Cup. Eventually, he ended up in New York, full-time freelancing for The New York Times. But as Rosenberg changed careers and locations, so did the world of journalism. The time was right, both in the media and in Rosenberg’s career, to bring Narratively to life.

After joining forces with several other freelancers and raising both awareness and almost $54,000 through a Kickstarter campaign, Narratively launched in September 2012. Since then, they’ve grown into more of a collective of the original site, with a new blog for shorter pieces and outtakes, and even a boutique agency for media production that is separate from editorial endeavors.

“Now is a really interesting and challenging time for us, challenging in a good way, because there’s so much potential for where we could go,” Rosenberg says. “I think it’s a matter of harnessing that potential and making sure we’re expanding in the right directions and really defining who we are before we start thinking too big. That said, it’s hard not to think too much bigger about where Narratively might be in two or five years.”

While some Tufts alumni feel the call of one of the world’s biggest and busiest metropolises, others find themselves, literally and figuratively, on the other side of the planet. Lily Berthold-Bond (A’11) left

Tufts for Europe and ended up on Ko Pha Ngan, an island in the Gulf of Thailand.

Like Kallor, Berthold-Bond knew that she wanted something more out of her immediate post-grad life than just a job or more time in school.

Like many Tufts students, BertholdBond went abroad in her junior year. The semester she spent in a creative writing program on an island in Greece ended up being one of the most transformative experiences of her life. On returning to Tufts from abroad, she almost dropped out. “I was really done with my academic experience, and I really wanted to travel and to be somewhere else in the world, exploring,” Berthold-Bond said.

A month before graduation, she bought a one way ticket to Europe. While in Europe, Berthold-Bond found several work exchange programs and almost took a position working at Atlantis Bookstore on the Greek island of Santorini. But something was drawing her to a place she hadn’t been yet, so when she got an offer to work on a yoga retreat on a remote island off of Thailand, she said yes.

At the retreat, Berthold-Bond’s job was to manage the yoga studio and the retreat’s website, and she also served as a counselor for a juice cleanse and detox, a physically and emotionally exhausting process, she had gone through on her arrival at the retreat.

“I was in a place where I wanted to do some self-exploration, and I wanted to settle somewhere where I could examine where I was in my life,” she explains.

The island retreat taught a unique form of yoga, a new age discipline with a very different set of beliefs, many of which Berthold-Bond says she was hesitant to accept. Though she declined to partake in certain aspects of the retreat’s teachings, such as urine therapy, a process in which one drinks one’s own urine in order to cleanse the body, she found that being around such an unusual school of thought was exciting.

“Being around people who thought so uniquely made me begin to think differently myself,” she said. “I was so lucky to be surrounded by people who were teaching me things that were very different from what I was used to. I learned that if I could accept myself for who I am and my differences, then I’m going to have a better time in life.”

Berthold-Bond’s decision to leave the country and adventure after graduation was met with support and encouragement from her travel-loving family. Some friends and acquaintances had a little more trouble accepting her choice. “I had so many people say to me ‘I wish I could that,’ and my response was always why can’t you?” she said.

Now back in the U.S., Berthold-Bond is working as a freelancer and considering going to graduate school for filmmaking.

It took time, but Berthold-Bond feels confident that she has found the industry that encompasses the things she loves and wants.

She didn’t have everything figured out by graduation, and that was okay.

“I was really scared about going away and not knowing when I was coming back or having a plan, but it was so easy,” she said.

“I think that people are afraid of straying

“I think that people are afraid of straying away from a path that’s already set up before them, but it doesn’t have to be hard.”

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away from a path that’s already set up before them, but it doesn’t have to be hard.”

Whether you’re more comfortable exploring the streets of the big city, getting lost on a different continent or typing away at a desk job, the roads available to a new graduate are countless. Going straight into a career can be just as exciting as going to a country you’ve never been to before, and trying to make it in a notoriously difficult business can be just as fulfilling as pursuing further studies. Tufts students are a passionate group of people, and those passions are what guide both undergrads and alumni to find their happiness, wherever it may lie. O MAY 6, 2013

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Silicon City Building a New Tech Landscape in New York

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ith its new graduate school of applied sciences, Cornell University thinks it has it has a way to create a Silicon Valley of the East Coast: a hub of technology, business, and innovation right in New York City.

Though the claim seems dubious, history has shown that a good graduate school can change the landscape of an area. The presence of Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) has encouraged an environment of technological innovation around Boston, and specifically Route 128. Similarly, Stanford and UC Berkley feed ideas and personnel directly into Silicon Valley, the center of the country’s tech industry, where Apple, Facebook, Xerox, Microsoft, Google, Intel, eBay call home.

These areas are hotbeds of innovation and present a huge boon to their local economies.

This sort of growth is what Mayor Bloomberg had in mind when he held a contest to create a new science graduate school in New York. New York already has one of the fastest-growing tech scenes in

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the country—a recent study called New Tech City found that 486 technology companies have been founded in the city since 2007. Notable examples are Tumblr, Gilt Groupe, Foursquare, and Fab, all founded in Manhattan.

However, the city currently lacks the bandwidth needed to support a tech industry on the scale of Silicon Valley. In addition, many tech companies complain the city lacks the necessary base of qualified engineers. To address this lack of human capital, the city of New York offered a $133 million grant and land on Roosevelt Island to whoever could come up with the best technology-focused graduate school for the area. With its reputation for churning out start-ups and CEOs, Stanford seemed well poised to win the grant. Instead, Cornell pulled ahead, bolstered by $350 million in private funding and a partnership with a distinguished foreign university, Technion.

Based in Haifa, Israel, TechnionIsrael Institute of Technology is globally renowned for its technology curriculum.

Of its graduates, 25% have started a business and 25% are vice presidents or CEOs of companies. Technion is credited with changing the area’s landscape, and Israel as a nation. Graduates of the school report that every technological venture in the country—from highways to missile technologies—has at least one Technion grad on staff. Technion is to Haifa what Stanford is to Silicon Valley. With this new endeavor in New York City, Cornell aims to mimic Technion’s success.

Classes started at Cornell’s new graduate school of applied sciences this past January with a matriculating class of seven students. The university boasts a unique and specialized curriculum designed to help students achieve financial success, requiring students to take traditional tech courses as well as business courses. Instead of departments, the school has flexible, interdisciplinary “hubs” of study, which focus on integrating business and design with technology.

Every semester, the school matches each student with a mentor from the private

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by Moira Lavelle sector who will oversee the design and creation of new products. To facilitate this process, there is a patent office directly on campus—a perk found at no other school.

The Cornell school also has practicums every week with entrepreneurs and business people from New York’s tech sector. In turn, these professionals can invite teams of students to work for their companies on needed projects. The university allows students to count the work as a “master’s project.” The goal of these practices is to fully integrate education and business.

Stanford has made over $1 billion in “technology transfer”—gaining revenue and royalties for the private sector’s use of ideas and innovations generated at the university. This is one of the goals of the Cornell program. The founders of the tech school call it an “educational start-up,” and hope to create an even more fluid exchange between academia and private companies.

Henry Mayer, a Stanford graduate who worked at a startup called Homestead in the Silicon Valley area, is skepti-

cal of New York’s ability to mirror Silicon Valley’s tech success. Mayer says that he has stayed in the Stanford area, even after Intuit bought out Homestead, in order to work alongside the people who are best at they do. He took a substantial pay cut in moving to his current job at startup Curious.com, but he was so enthused about the personnel and the mission of the company that he was convinced. This is not uncommon for a programmer in Silicon Valley; programmers often switch from job to job in search of the next big project.

It is this culture, Mayer posits, that makes Silicon Valley unique: “In New York, for a variety of reasons it’s harder to get people to work for less, which I think is necessary in these small startup situations,” he explains. “It’s a cultural question… In Silicon Valley people aren’t that interested in ascending a ladder, getting promotions, and such. That just doesn’t exist here because organizations aren’t hierarchical like that. In Silicon Valley, people work closely in small teams. I think that fos-

ters a work ethic that looks at not what your employers want, but what your team needs.”

That being said, Mayer acknowledges the importance of training and educating qualified tech professionals. In his job at Homestead, Mayer was often tasked with hiring engineers, and he discusses the challenge of finding qualified people, even in the famed Silicon Valley area, due to high demand for talented programmers.

So maybe a prestigious school that focuses on creating knowledgeable, business-savvy graduates is the key to fostering New York’s technological renaissance. But Mayer suggests that there are other cultural factors at play emphasizing the need to replicate Silicon Valley’s work ethic. “If I were planning this out,” he says, “I would try to seed the employment pool and engineering pool with people who already have that Silicon Valley culture of working really hard on the most interesting projects regardless of the money. I think it’s easy to slip into that if it already exists. I don’t know how you start it.” O

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On Fear, Feeling, & Fighting

Molly Mirhashem

Christiane Amanpour Talks International Reporting

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hristiane Amanpour is indescribably bold and impressively accomplished. She has reported from every corner of the world in some of the most dangerous circumstances, and came to Tufts for the Edward R. Murrow Forum on April 26th to discuss her three-decade broadcast career. Currently, she works for both ABC and CNN. Back in 1983, when she started working at CNN, she admits that she considered it “grad school on the job,” and assumed that she would eventually start working at a “real network.” Obviously, a lot has changed since then, but Amanpour has managed to stay relevant and keep on top of the news, despite the passage of time.

Amanpour grew up in Tehran, Iran, (though she did spend considerable time in London) and the Islamic Revolution in the late 1970s defined much of her adolescence and young adult life.

She is tough, resilient, and hardworking, and credits the revolution for giving her the motivation to enter the field of journalism. “I never wanted to be the victim again,” she reflects. “I wanted to tell the stories of people.” She eventually left Iran and headed for the US. “I knew that to have a chance to make it in the world, I had to come to the US,” she explains.

Amanpour has received countless broadcast awards, and she didn’t get there by taking the easy route. She has reported from many extreme crises, including the Gulf War and the Arab Spring, in addition to her war reporting in nations such as Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, and many others. She is known for interviewing many world leaders over the course of her career, and most famously, she alone secured an interview with Egyptian President Mubarak during the Arab Spring.

Given her experience on the frontlines, in war-torn nations, and staring revolution in the face, Amanpour understands the significance of strong international coverage better than most anyone.

She reflects on the recent bombings at

the Boston Marathon as a good example of how familiarity with events around the world can help contextualize tragic events like these, when they arise. She explains that many Americans probably didn’t give Chechnya much thought before the bombings, and now the Republic is popping up all over the news in the wake of the events.

Keeping this in mind, Amanpour asserts: “We must do better international reporting. Not just in crisis times, but in non-crisis times, so when there is a crisis, we have a closer connection.”

Amanpour believes in the significance of international reporting so much that for many years she put her career above her own personal life. She calls herself a “late mother” and a “late wife,” and says that throughout much of her career, she had no

The true skill has to be to tell the story of the other. one to stay alive for while trekking through some of the world’s more treacherous war zones. Now that she’s married and has a child, she says, “I have someone to stay alive for, and I want to.” But this certainly hasn’t made her any less courageous, and Amanpour stresses that she has never felt inhibited in her career for being a woman.

She rejects the idea that women can’t “have it all,” and says that she has had it all; it’s simply come in stages. Amanpour admits that sometimes, she might get access to certain areas or interviews because she is a woman, and therefore seems less threatening. But she is careful to not let this logic go too far in undermining her accomplishments. Reflecting on the Arab Spring, she says proudly: “I didn’t get [my interview with] Mubarak because I am a woman. I got him.”

by MOLLY MIRHASHEM

While Amanpour may come across as fearless and unfazed by the horrors she faces on a daily basis, she openly admits to feeling constant repressed fear. She reflects on some of her past assignments, and comments specifically on her time in Bosnia: “I was an observer who happened to be on the inside, so I was at the same risk as the civilians.” She explains that by interacting with situations of war and revolution on a regular basis is a way of acquainting oneself with real fear. “Everyone is afraid in those kinds of situations,” she says. “It would be foolish to pretend not to be.”

Despite this fear, Amanpour keeps her emotions in check while on the job.

She doesn’t deny that sometimes her work will be saddening or deeply upsetting, but explains that the key is being respectful of the actual individuals involved. “The true skill,” she says, “has to be to tell the story of the other.” If she feels a strong sentiment, she doesn’t hold it in. That being said, she emphasizes: “You to have to be honest. It’s fake to show emotion you don’t feel.” Ultimately, it seems that the feeling wrapped up in a story can be more of a catalyst than a hindrance when it comes to bringing out the narrative. “I just funnel my emotion into storytelling,” she says.

While sentimental attachment can be helpful in some cases, it goes without saying that fact-checking is critical to good journalism. Amanpour stresses the importance of “holding everyone accountable,” and adds that in times of fast-moving news stories, “One really must resist going with the herd.” This becomes increasingly important with the ever-growing influence of social media. “Everyone has an agenda,” Amanpour explains. And for that reason, she adds: “Trained journalists have the duty to bring real human stories, rather than relying on the armchair analysis of social media.” Amanpour doesn’t believe that youth is necessarily an obstacle to being a good reporter, but that it does make a person more idealistic by nature. The challenge then, for young people, she explains: “…Is to make truth your master, and nothing else.” O MAY 6, 2013

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arts The Silver Lining of an Interdisciplinary Education

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I fine.

’ve never quite understood what “liberal arts” means. It is a grey area of skills that we need in order to thrive as liberated people, surely, but engineers seem to handle their independence just

Maybe “liberal arts” instead implies a loose pursuit of the arts, a lenient interpretation of what it means to be a modern academic artist. But that’s doubtful. Right? Instead, let’s say the name implies an integrated, involved, and complete approach to education that inevitably leads to our Bachelors of Arts. In simple terms, it’s about combination. It’s an equation. Liberal plus arts equals schooling. Active plus citizenship. Spring plus Fling.

This world we live in now is not just one of compounds, though.

Those days were in elementary school, when everything was, well, just that. Elementary. Primary. Steeped down to its essence. In those days, we found ourselves on playgrounds by the schoolhouse. We talked about superpowers and thought of ourselves as bookworms.

We took two words we knew and put them together to give us a third one.

Now, our complex buzzwords conjugate themselves. Their meaning is composite, more complex. Instead of getting a by-product by pairing two words together, our educational equations give us new meanings, new context, new concepts. They are our interdisciplinarianism.

I’ve lived through four years of this interdisciplinary mind set.

So often we hear that it pulls you from what you love, that it draws and quarters you into different majors and paths, and you just get so lost, stuck somewhere between Math of Social Choice and astronomy, unhappy, bereft of anything vocational. But those people are still the compound worrywarts of yesteryear. Have faith.

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Distribution Requirements A core curriculum that encourages you to learn outside of your comfort zone is exhausting and can seem, at times, unfulfilling, given that you’re paying so much for your personalized education in the first place. Yet, distribution requirements set up an interdisciplinary lens that will allow you to analyze and understand what exactly you’re really interested in.

Before freshman year, I had pledged never to take another language class because I was so incompetent at Spanish. To this day, I can only remember the phrase “Que lástima,” and the one time I used it in Seville, it didn’t go over well. Yet, I somehow found myself plodding through 8 semesters of Arabic to fulfill my international relations major. I hated it because it was so difficult, so time-consuming.

It violated my GPA. But what really matters is that I learned to love it, or at least parts of it.

Once I realized the change, I learned why my opinion morphed in the first place—I had become fascinated with the art inherent to the language, the culture and religion imbued within it, the ability to hear the stories of people with whom I would never otherwise be able to communicate. That’s what I fell in love with.

It is much easier to pick out what is important to you in fields you hate or are uncomfortable with as opposed to studies with which you’re overjoyed because you can isolate what makes you tick, provided you’re reflective and honest. Maybe you like challenges. Maybe you like people. You’ve got to like something, so do something you hate in order to figure it out.

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By David Schwartz

Trail Blazing With the interdisciplinary model, it’s hard to have a “thing” because your focus is spread over so many different subjects. In fact, if your personal thesis statement—that little sentence that terrifyingly will sum up your existence and passions—is too clear in these supposedly formative years you’re probably sticking too close to home. The vast majority of Tufts students find themselves immersed in many disparate activities—some will cause them to travel, some will cause them to meet people. Some will make them more responsible or more cynical.

More religious. Bolder. The hodgepodge of classes and activities and internships you find yourself in can only be a good thing—especially if they affect you, if they cause you to think. All of these things you’ve chosen to surround yourself with are engaging you in different ways.

You’re coming into contact with more surface area with the hopes of triggering some synapse somewhere.

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Soul Search The constant re-thinking and evaluating that comes with the interdisciplinary approach to education can cause some paranoia. It is so anxiety-provoking to realize that, despite your wide array of interests and areas of knowledge, being well-rounded when you’re suddenly face-to-face with the job plus hunt doesn’t help you that much.

At first, the interdisciplinarian will have trouble selling himself.

He has many passions but fails to find the common thread, the overarching narrative. He likens himself to a Frankenstein’s monster of interests, a corpse bride that’s less morose. He thinks something is wrong.

And that’s what’s right.

It is terrifying trying to figure out your story. But the more time you spend figuring out how you would be happy—especially when your livelihood is thrown into the mix—the easier it becomes. You start off with a marble mess of yourself. And, as you talk to more potential employers, you chisel away at the extraneous details—that one mission trip, the discussions you liked about that one philosophy class—and, like a true liberal artist, you finally start to realize you’ve spent the last four years making a masterpiece.

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Silver Lining Interdisciplinarianism teaches us to think in broad strokes—in themes—which is ultimately a truly rewarding experience. You end up learning that you are someone who enjoys communication plus culture plus problem solving. Or you find that you are someone who likes journalism plus jail systems plus north-south divisions.

The silver lining is that, by the time you graduate, instead of just having a dream graduate school, or instead of even having a dream job, you are immensely more aware of yourself and the things that make you tick. You realize that, despite the struggles, you’ve been thriving this whole time, culminating in a final year of constant reflection on what caused your growth in the first place. What you reacted best to.

What brought out your best and your worst and thank goodness it did that.

You sift out the feelings, the grades, the homework, the shtick, and you realize what’s inherently you. That you’re so much more complex than just compounds. That you’re unlocking an equation that allows you to seek happiness and progress. That you’ve been employed this entire time in your most fitting role as yourself and you’ve spent all college working on the most important product you will ever create. O MAY 6, 2013

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{ IN A PICKLE }

Cambridge-based Grillo’s Pickles hits the big time (& shelves at Whole Foods)

BY ERIC SIEGEL

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ravis Grillo will try to pickle just about anything as long as it’s fresh, sweet, and capable of providing the crisp crunch that has become the distinctive trademark of Grillo’s Pickles. From its new storefront in Cambridge, the local pickle company pushes culinary boundaries with the likes of pickled carrots, apples, green beans, asparagus, grapes, okra, and watermelon rinds. But even with new varieties coming out each season, their loyal customers continue to vociferously demand the original cucumber spears—a family recipe that has stood the test of time.

Grillo’s Pickles has defied all expectations for an independent pickle producer. Its products are on the shelves of dozens of independent shops, Whole Foods supermarkets, and Stop and Shops across the Northeast. With the company already producing over 20,000 jars per month, Grillo’s Pickles announced publically in February that it will double its current production in the coming year as it expands into 50 additional Whole Foods supermarkets. The company’s founders dream about replacing Vlasic’s glass jars with Grillo’s Pickles’ plastic containers on supermarket shelves nationwide, but their present goal is simply to get people to try their product and just enjoy eating pickles as more than a classic side dish.

“I think that’s really what sets us apart from a lot of other pickle companies,” Eddie Andre, Grillo’s one-man marketing team, said. “We make pickles fun. We have a great product, but people enjoy hearing our story.”

Grillo grew up watching his father make pickles every summer with cucumbers and herbs from their backyard. In 2008, an unemployed Grillo decided he’d start to sell those pickles. He shoved dozens of cucumbers down a PVC pipe lined with razor blades and mastered the secret family recipe.

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The “quick-pick” style recipe doesn’t use preservatives or boil anything. The recipe calls for spring water vinegar as the base of the brine and only the freshest of ingredients pass the test. The result is a sweet and salty pickle with more snap than any Rice Krispie’s mascot could dream of.

Grillo’s mascot, a chilled-out anthropomorphized pickle wearing two right-footed sandals, a pair of shades, and a baseball cap, lounges in a lawn chair, reflecting the playful attitude of the young company.

“We have people who say they hate pickles, and then they try them, and they absolutely love them,” Andre said. The pickle-cart’s first customer was one such grumpy old man who laughed at Grillo, age 27 at the time, saying they would never make a profit. After he tasted a pickle, however, he changed his mind. According to the cartoon that plays on a loop in the Cambridge storefront, the old man returned every day that summer to buy pickles—two for one dollar as the green sign on the pickle cart advertises.

Within six months, a representative from the Fresh Pond Whole Foods approached Grillo and offered to sell his pickles. The small company now contracts out part of its production to a local factory, but the pickle cart and the community spirit still remain an integral part of their philosophy.

The company is run entirely by the Grillos and Andre, their long-time friend. When the weather is nice they’ll bring the pickle cart and pickle suit to the Common or neighborhood skate parks. When one of Andre’s friends performed at the Austin, TX music festival South

by Southwest, he wore Grillo’s merchandise and brought a giant barrel of pickles with him to hand out. Andre says their customers range from college-student foodies “who just think Grillos are baZac Wolf dass” to blue-collar workers who Grillo sold the first batches of pickles leave their trucks running while they hop out of the back of his 1985 Cutlass. “People into the store. Families bring their kids liked them,” Andre said, “it was just sketchy for a healthy treat and Andre always has because we were selling pickles out of the a fork ready for the mailman who doesn’t back of a car.” Bolstered by the success of like to reach into the jar.

In many ways Grillo’s Pickles represelling pickles on the street, Travis Grillo and his cousin, Eric Grillo, obtained per- sents adventure and experimentation. But mits to sell pickles on the Boston Common. at its core, the company is made up of a Outfitted with a homemade pickle cart and century-old family recipe and a commita giant green pickle suit, the pair drew at- ment to make good food for family and friends. O tention from tourists and locals alike.

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NOLAN JIMBO

APRIL 22, 2013

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Alison graham

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Angus schaefer

Misako ono

APRIL 22, 2013 jessie roth

Izel maras

APRIL 22, 2013 bernita ling

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julia richieri

Julia stein

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FF US O P am C Natasha Jessen-Petersen

summer off the hill Five Tufts students share their plans to engage with communities at home and abroad, explore culinary possibilies, and learn about the real-life applications of their educations during the summer.

BY Gracie McKenzie & Aaron Langerman ophomore Nolan Jimbo lives and breathes his major, art history.

This summer, though, this passion will be his job in the Department of Photographs at the Getty Center in Los Angeles. As a curatorial and collections management intern, his main responsibilities will include research for upcoming exhibitions and publications, processing new acquisitions, and organizing works in the collections storage areas. “As a native of L.A.,” Jimbo says, “I’ve been visiting the Getty my entire life and it’s always been one of my favorite museums… The chance to work in one of the largest collections of photographs in the U.S. is incredible and I couldn’t feel luckier!”

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lthough junior JD DeAngelis has already been in Europe all year, studying abroad in Madrid, the ILVS major isn’t finished yet. She explains, “I’ve always been curious about other cultures, but being in Spain for the year has made me re-examine the cultural norms I take for granted. Hopefully, when I travel this summer, I’ll be able to keep those things in mind and be a respectful traveler.” This summer, she’ll backpack from Rome to Copenhagen, stopping along the way to see all the Rhine River castles and cities like Basel and Budapest. Overall, DeAngelis says, “I’m most excited about eating my way through all the countries. For me, cuisine and culture go hand-in-hand. It’s a great excuse to eat a lot of pastries in the name of cultural anthropology.” Check out her blog, coloringthemap.wordpress.com for updates along the way!

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ophomore Jay Radochia will be the Front Dock Manager at the Manchester Marina on the North Shore. Anyone who stops in Manchester Harbor stops at his dock. Having worked there the past three summers, Radochia “loves being out on the water and feels a sense of responsibility for the marina.” He’s in charge of fuel-dock

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operations such as pumping gas, selling oil, selling motor parts, handling transient moorings and slips, and managing a six-man crew. “It’s technical, hard work,” Radochia explains. “But the coolest part is meeting such a wide range of people—fisherman, sailors, lobster men, or even one time the CTO of Microsoft. s a sophomore transfer, studying abroad during the school year was going to be nearly impossible for Becky Goldberg. Instead, the Community Health and American Studies double major will trek to Madagascar this summer through the seven-week SIT program “Social and Political Dimensions of Health.” In addition to her courses about traditional medicine and healthcare systems, Goldberg will take an intensive class in Malagasy, the native language, so that she can communicate while in homestays. “I want to go into public health policy,” Goldberg explains, “but before I aim to fix our healthcare system in the US, it’s best to know the systems of other countries similar to and extremely different from us.”

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ou’ve probably seen sophomore Julia Stein biking around in an orange jumpsuit on weekend nights, delivering cookies for the Cookie Man. This summer, Sweet Idea may be closed except for catered events, but Stein has plenty of other plans in store. She’ll be continuing her psychology research on racial minorities on campus in the Social Identity and Stigma Lab. She’s also interning at Reflection Films, a documentary film company that creates work for local nonprofits to aid in their advertising and marketing. Finally, in all of her spare time, she’ll be working at The Dining Car, a food truck with locations spread throughout downtown Boston. “I love food and cooking,” Stein says, “and am really excited to be part of a new and up-and-coming part of the food world.” O

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By Alison Pinkerton

Police State University W

hen dissenters challenge the higher education industry to prove the worth of a liberal arts degree, many support academia by pointing to the “breadth and depth” that students gain at a liberal arts college. The depth, of course, comes from the student’s chosen major or concentration—a student majoring in psychology, for instance, should have a deep, robust knowledge of psychology upon graduation. The breadth, more importantly, develops from distribution requirements and core curricula. The psychology student, then, will not only be well versed in research methods and behavioral models, but in philosophy, government, and economics, too. Opponents of the liberal arts typically worry about the latter word in the phrase: “art.” Art, to some, connotates intangible skills that may not be relevant in a tech-driven era. However, liberal arts students are famously good writers who understand that the word “art” does not simply mean what it did in elementary school painting class. Art, with respect to the liberal arts, is a vast field of culture, which encapsulates many areas of study.

Liberal arts students fully understand this aspect of their degree. How, then, are these same students so dangerously mistaking the meaning of the former word, “liberal”?

Recently, an article for the National Review Online detailed a horrifying restriction of free speech at Vassar College. Vassar, like Tufts, is a liberal arts school renowned for its diversity and progressive environ18

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ment. At Vassar, the fossil fuel divestment movement has gained momentum, and most students across campus seem to be in support of the campaign. The exception to this rule is Vassar Moderate, Independent, Conservative Alliance (MICA) group. To voice its opinion in the divestment debate, the group invited a proponent of conventional energy industries to speak on campus. Soon after the group advertised this event, divestment supporters attempted to stifle this conversation by ripping and defacing posters for the speaking engagement. Worse still, a pro-divestment group on campus vehemently begged the administration to pay the speaker not to come to campus. Members of the MICA spoke to news outlets and expressed concern over the fact that progressive students often silence the voice of conservatives at Vassar.

Unfortunately, this brazen act of disrespect to the First Amendment is becoming commonplace at liberal arts colleges across the country. It may be too simple to declare this conflict one of liberals versus conservatives. Rather, I’d determine this conversation to be one about political correctness, diversity, and freedom of speech, and how these ideas coexist, converge, and conflict at the university level.

Political correctness has really only been a recognizable feature of language since the 1980s or 1990s. When searching the term “political correctness” online, it is difficult to find one, comprehensive definition—the debate over political correctness

Why Tufts is always so politically correct. is heated in certain arenas, and, as a result, some definitions are skewed and biased.

One way to approach this lack of definition may be to provide two interpretations that oppose each other. One definition says that political correctness is concerned with avoiding language that excludes, insults, or marginalizes members of a community. This camp of political correctness advocates for a more inclusive lexicon: “spokeswoman” instead of “spokesman,” or, more recently, “owner’s bedroom” instead of “master bedroom.” This expression of political correctness can be blamed only for encouraging circumlocution, but, at its core, it attempts to promote inclusion regardless of gender, race, socioeconomic status, etc. This is a noble goal. Politically correct diction, as I’ll refer to the goal of this first definition, suggests ways in which we can speak more respectfully and tolerantly.

The second interpretation of PC focuses on the dangerous extremes of the movement. Professor Marilyn Edelstein of Santa Clara University writes that political correctness “has been defined by those opposed to and fearful of viewpoints they lump together under this loaded term.” This definition more nearly approaches the epidemic of shaming and silencing that is infecting college campus across the country.

More than encouraging respectful diction, this brand of political correctness glorifies a certain mindset as the “correct” one and assumes all others inferior. At universities such as Tufts, this mindset is typically lib-

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contrasting viewpoints, no matter how unconventional these ideas are. No, we should not relish the opportunity to squash them.

Rather, we should listen to these beliefs in order to foster tolerance and respectful debate. This debate, in turn, forces us to become stronger thinkers and arguers.

At institutions like Tufts and Vassar, it is comfortable for the ideological majority to express their opinions while the dissenting minority remains silent for fear of shame and slander.

Comedian and pundit Bill Maher foresaw this degradation of higher education in 2002 when he told actor Dennis Miller, “there is less free speech at Berkeley than there is in the White House.” Miller, in turn, replied that he does not like performing at college campuses because they are “very close minded.” He then less-thaneloquently added, “kids are such pains in

“At institutions like Tufts and Vassar, it is comfortable for the ideological majority to express their opinions while the dissenting minority remains silent for fear of shame and slander.” the ass nowadays.” But we are pains in the ass. We claim to promote tolerance and diversity but shut down people with opinions different from our own. To be fair, students at Tufts are not duct-taping each other’s mouths shut or engaging in shouting matches. But to subtly structure our language on campus to be politically correct inherently excludes those who do not have “politically correct” opinions. In the United States, we are protected under the First Amendment to speak our minds freely, in theory. Political correctness, however, sets invisible barriers which constrain this freedom. Those who are politically correct become self-righteous, believing themselves “learned” or “elite” because they understand what, at the moment, is in vogue to say and to think—and, more importantly, what is not in vogue to say and to think.

Political correctness is a man shouting to a crowd, “Hey, look at me! I’m not a racist!” while turning and raising his eyebrows at the man next to him.

Too often, free speech dissolves at the expense of PC-invoked fear. Once-benign words suddenly become offensive. As human beings, some may say that we ought not to offend one another. As citizens with the power of free speech, however, we can offend one another and, at times, we should.

For offense spawns disagreement, then debate, and then solution. In the same conversation I reference earlier, Dennis Miller said “the best way to dispense with the unpopular ideas is to let them roam free on the playground so that they can have their asses kicked up and down the playground by the cool ideas.” Ultimately, this may be the argument that persuades the advocates of political correctness to see its disadvantages. How can we reform affirmative action if we cannot talk candidly about race?

How can we determine if insurance companies should cover the cost of sex reassignment surgery if we cannot speak freely about gender and sex?

On our campus, though, we may view a shift away from political correctness more positively. Instead of encouraging free speech to separate good ideas from bad ones or to improve conversational logistics, we can encourage free speech because it promotes community and tolerance. In the recent presidential campaigns at Tufts, we heard countless ideas about improving campus culture and community. If this is a goal Tufts hopes to achieve, it is crucial that we encourage and accept free speech. We will not always agree with each other, but that is why we come to college. We come here to question ideas. We come here to pick each other’s brains. We come here to bask in the richness of diversity that is not solely marked by skin color, but by ideas and beliefs.

The word liberal means abundant, generous, and free. We should surround ourselves with abundant ideas from all ends of the spectrum, and enjoy listening to professors and peers whose opinions are not our own. We should be generous in debates, giving everybody an ear and an equal chance to speak. And we should be free to laugh, to argue, to embrace, and even to offend. We should be free to speak. O MAY 6, 2013

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eral, fueled by secularism, social activism, and progressive values. The PC majority will slander students with different priorities as “racist,” “homophobic,” and “sexist.”

Ironically, these hyper-PC students that tend to label a Catholic student a homophobe or a white student uncaring are, in a way, oppressive.

Hypocrisy aside, the cornerstone of the PC movement—that language cannot insult or offend—is absurd. Language is a common currency that humans use to express emotion. And, precisely because we are humans, these emotions are not always marked by smiles and hugs. While the movement for politically correct diction merely suggests more sensitive ways in which we could refer to certain groups, the politically correct mindset forces the dissenting minority to remain silent through insults and snarky remarks (and here I use the word minority in the mathematical sense, to refer to the lesser number of students). I’ve never seen this more horrifically employed than in the earlier anecdote from Vassar. Because the PC majority at Vassar views its divestment movement as the “correct” way in which to think, it tried to silence the “incorrect” side. Of course, everybody has the right to insult and disagree with whomever they like, but to silence an opinion because it is different is not just repugnant and ignorant, but is massively dangerous—especially on a college campus.

College students are, above all else, driven to learn. Because of this, we are vulnerable to new knowledge that may challenge our beliefs. We are smart but elastic, with brains strong enough to form opinions but young enough to entertain and value myriad new ideas. If we refuse to acknowledge alternative modes of thinking, we do ourselves a disservice. For Vassar students, working for the organization which heads the divestment movement may look impressive on a resume. Further, these students show conviction and motivation in their campaigns. However, what sets us apart as liberal arts students is not how many social activism clubs we join, how loud we scream, or how many posters we can print. Instead, liberal arts students should pride themselves on the ability to think critically. Students at Tufts should feel comfortable with, if not excited by,

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Fracking A Potential and Profitable Nightmare

by Ben Kane

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y inbox has been pounded recently with emails from all sorts of advocacy groups about hydraulic fracturing. Matt Damon’s new movie, “Promised Land,” takes a look at it, and even the House of Representatives Subcommittee on Energy and Power held a hearing in February that focused on fracking. If you replaced the second and third letters of fracking, it would be the new favorite of teens looking to get their mouths washed out with soap. Yet, fracking is rife within our modern discourse, and few people truly understand what it means.

Hydraulic fracturing, known as fracking, is a practice used to coax oil and natural gas from hard rock formations. It involves forcing huge amounts of water, a propant (usually sand) and chemicals down the wellbore to force oil and gas to the surface through the bore. Environmentalists are adamantly against it, the government doesn’t know what to think, and the energy industry is calling fracking one of our century’s greatest technology revolutions.

So what is the big deal? Right now, the United States is producing more natural gas domestically than we can use. A ton of the natural gas that is driving the domestic gas boom comes from fracking. We are in the midst of a debate over whether the economic benefits of exporting liquefied natural gas produced by fracking outweigh the potential cost to our natural environment.

America can stand to gain economically and politically by exporting fracked gas and should do so. However, we run the risk of widespread pollution. Gas companies are in need of sensible regulations to prevent nightmarish contamination without impinging upon their operations.

Hydraulic fracturing has allowed energy producers to tap previously untouchable sources of natural gas, specifically in shale rock formations in Pennsylvania, Colorado, and the Dakotas. It is currently

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Robert Collins

totally legal and not well regulated. Daniel Yergin, vice president of IHS, recently claimed, “Shale gas has now gone from 2% of our energy supply to 37% of our energy supply.” And that supply of domestic natural gas is likely to increase.

The EIA now projects the U.S. natural gas production will increase from 23 trillion cubic feet last year to 33 trillion cubic feet in 2040, a 44% increase. This will be due almost entirely to the projected growth in fracking.

This explosion of domestic production has created a glut of gas supply, lowering the domestic price of gas. Natural gas prices are much lower in the U.S., at less than $4, than in Europe (around $10) and East Asia (between $12-$15). This differential in price is expected to continue for some time to come.

Gas producers are demanding that the U.S. government allow for liquefied natural gas exports of the fracked gas. Obviously, the current price differential between the United States and the rest of the world would allow for sizable profits to be made.

We also possess a fleet of tanks and plants in the Gulf Coast that were built to handle liquid natural gas imports. Due to the boom in domestic shale gas production, these plants are now idle. Yet, the United States is a long ways away from exporting LNG. Why? Firstly, each energy company would have to retool their LNG import terminals to handle exports at a cost of $5 billion dollars per plant. Secondly, current legislation requires that the Department of Energy sign off on each export license, and as of yet, only one facility, Sabine Pass in Louisiana, has been allowed to begin the process of exporting LNG. A strong, vocal lobby by American corporations has stalled the DOE’s permitting process: energy-hungry American businesses do not want the U.S. to start exporting LNG because that will lead to an increase in domestic gas prices.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, LNG exports would depend upon a continued increase in domestic gas production. The majority of the domestic gas production would come from fracking. And therein lies the pivotal argument around LNG exports: while there is a lot to gain by exporting LNG, the environmental impacts of fracking are as yet unknown but potentially numerous.

Environmentalists are adamant that fracking pollutes drinking water, and they point to wastewater and the associated contaminants as strong reasons to outlaw fracking. Hydraulic fracturing occurs in multiple stages, and at each stage, wastewaters and contaminants are produced. Research has proven that these pollutants can be dangerous if they are released into the environment or if people are exposed to them. They can be toxic to humans and aquatic life, and the contaminants can also damage ecosystem health by depleting oxygen or causing algal blooms. Furthermore, the Safe Drinking Water Act of 2005 does not specify any regulations for hydraulic fracturing, and companies are not required to report the chemicals they inject into fracked wells. Many environmentalists implicate the unknown quantity and chemical makeup of chemicals being injected underground as reasons to eliminate the practice in the U.S. because we simply cannot predict the effects, either in the long or short term.

Yet, proponents of fracking maintain the claim that there is no substantiated research that clearly links fracking and drinking water contamination. The EPA is currently undertaking another study of fracking that is projected to be completed by 2014, but at the moment, there is not an accepted connection between fracking and polluted water supplies. Moreover, proponents of fracking insist that the United States

has much to gain by exporting our supply of natural gas. Expanded domestic supply will surely add resilience to our energy markets, and prudent expansion of U.S. gas supply may actually add a positive, additional level to U.S. influence worldwide.

America should export domestically produced natural gas, but only if we can do so in an environmentally conscious way.

Obviously, the U.S. can stand to gain from exporting LNG. American energy companies will profit tremendously from the sale of natural gas on the international market.

American corporations will lose out on incredibly low gas prices, but gas prices are currently unsustainably low. They will rise whether exports are allowed or not, but prices will remain lower here than elsewhere. America also increases its national security, and its influence worldwide, by expanding domestic production of gas for export.

Fracking will never be taken off of the table; there is simply too much money to be made from the practice. On the other hand, American corporations and energy suppliers should recognize that the potential environmental impacts of fracking are astronomical. A dearth of federal regulation has allowed gas producers the leeway to pollute at will, which needs to end. Gas suppliers, the government, and environmentalists are all waiting on the outcome of the EPA’s 2014 study on the “Environmental Impacts of Hydraulic Fracturing and its Potential Impact on Drinking Water Resources.” If used appropriately, the results from this study may allow for reasonable regulation that helps protect our country’s water supplies from toxic seepage while allowing energy companies to profit. Natural gas is a necessary component of our country’s economy. Both sides of this equation need to work together to make exporting our domestic supply of gas a viable and sustainable part of our country’s wealth. O

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HOME

Is The WORLD

BY CHARMAINE POH

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he Nepalese girl sitting in front of you has a mop of unruly hair and large brown eyes. She tells you her life story, a journey that involves moving first from Himalayan mountains to a red desert town in Arizona, then finally to a cramped apartment on the outskirts of Boston. The both of you are in this apartment on a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of February. The harsh winter light streams in through the window.

At first you marvel at her story; it all seems so foreign and exotic. She comes from a wealthy family in Kathmandu valley, a place you’ve had the fortune to visit a few times in your short life, and is now working as a waitress at a nearby restaurant in Somerville. You marvel at the details, until you realize that your stories share more similarities than previously thought.

When she tells you about how she lugged two overweight suitcases that her mother, in a fit of worry and thriftiness, stuffed full with lotions, creams, and dresses, you remember how each time you visited over break, your own mother would pack an excess of toiletries you would never get a chance to use. When she tells you about how unexpectedly different America was from her imagination, you nod in agreement, recalling the first days of orientation, when you walked around Harvard Square in a hoodie from high school, wondering why you felt so much more afraid than you did on the 24-hour plane ride here. When she tells you how she misses Nepal but can’t stop the weekly conversations with her family from growing shorter, you sit quietly because you realize that you are just as foreign as she is.

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It’s a curious thing to become an adult in a country other than the one you’ve grown up in. You find yourself scrambling around for some sense of home and belonging, as if it exists tangibly in the air between four walls, and that if you strain your eyes hard enough, you would be able to grasp it between your fingers.

But home, as you learn, changes as you do. Each year that you return to your city on the other side of the world, you notice how time has made its indelible mark on both you and your family. You notice the wrinkles on your father’s face and how he’s started to cough every morning. You notice that his pace has slowed, that his bones creak, and that when he tells you he’s tired, you wonder if he just wants to sleep or if life is just too overwhelming. You notice how he forgets things more easily now, like your mother does. You wonder when you started to see them as people, too.

You realize that you are no longer a child, and that your home is no longer the one you were born into, but one that you need to create for yourself.

You recall that first plane ride from Singapore to Boston in the fall of 2009.

Your hands tingled with excitement–you were on the biggest adventure that your 19-year-old self could muster. I’m moving countries, you pondered, smiling at your accomplishment. In the first few days of fall, you Skype your friends constantly, squealing about every detail–the liberal arts curriculum, the dorm room and its brick walls, your Puerto Rican roommate– and in so doing cling onto a home that only exists through the mysterious portals of the World Wide Web. What you don’t realize is how the multiple Skype conversations you envisioned gradually turn into a Skype occurrence once, maybe twice, a year, the regularity of conversation diminishing with the passing of time.

The cold gets to your bones; you buy far too many jackets and wrap yourself in blankets constantly, whining, in response to friends who laugh, “I’m from a tropical climate!” Yet in the four years that follow you find yourself wedging in your consciousness the curious temporality of home in the form of Boston, landing spot of the pilgrims, people you’ve no personal association with other than childhood memories of Pocahontas, people that you soon learn have made indelible marks that go especially unappreciated during Thanksgiving.

Somewhere along the way you pick up a camera and figure out how to use it, its knobs and meters and buttons becoming familiar nodes under your fingers. It’s with this camera that you discover the city’s nooks and crannies–you find yourself in a refugee center in Worcester, then in a protest with Tibetans, then in that cramped

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apartment in Somerville, where a Nepalese girl with unruly hair and large brown eyes tells you her life story.

You make friends with these people who are living reminders of a world that extends beyond the cushions of college life, people who have lived through war and persecution and moving countries, as you have done. They are the pursuers of the American Dream, which you had only heard about but never really understood, and now that you have it is much less American than it is universal–it is the dream of an elusive Something Better.

And now, in just under a couple of weeks, you’ll find yourself walking up on stage in a billowing black gown, about to graduate with a Bachelor of Arts in International Relations, which sounds grander that it feels. You’ll look back on all the classes you’ve taken and the papers you’ve churned out and you’ll wonder why you don’t feel prepared or very much educated at all. The supposedly famous commencement speaker will encourage you to do big things and follow your dreams. The student speaker will do likewise, but you

will cheer, because it is probably someone you know. He or she will encourage you, as they encourage themselves, to believe that life has limitless possibilities, and that home is the world.

Home is the world only in bits and pieces, lodged in the contours of my mind, you think, as you pack your bags and sit in your bare apartment. In the last few weeks, you’ve given away most of your things– to underclassmen in need of a desk chair or a space heater, to Buffalo Exchange in hopes of getting some dollars back for the

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IT’S A CURIOUS THING TO BECOME AN ADULT IN A COUNTRY OTHER THAN ONE YOU’VE GROWN UP IN.

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expensive, impractical pair of boots you had regrettably bought online, to Goodwill for the rest of the lost causes. All that’s left, the chosen few of your personal belongings, are your letters, books, and gifts from beloved friends. These are worth carrying over oceans to your new life, you say to yourself. You make sure to take along with you these little reminders of friendships because as with the island home that you left behind four years ago, you know that companionship will fade.

You learned once in your Media and Society class that the world is becoming smaller because of ingenious inventions like Skype, iMessage and Gmail. It was supposed to be different, you think, as your drag your luggage through the door and into the taxi that will take you to the airport that will take you to your new life in another hemisphere. O This article is partially adapted from a blog post by the author. All photographs are by the author. The airplane graphic is by Rohan Gupta and cityscape graphic is by Juan Pablo Bravo.

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Alison Graham

Congratulations Observer Seniors: Eric Archibald Anna Burgess Kyle Carnes Natasha Jessen-Petersen Claire McCartney Isobel Redelmeier Angelina Rotman David Schwartz Ruth Tam Megan Wasson And the Tufts Class of 2013!

MAY 6, 2013

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