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Monday, April 25, 2011
The Vanderbilt Hustler
www.InsideVandy.com
opinion the vanderbilt hustler Editorial Board
Chris Honiball Editor-in-Chief
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4 years, 1 column “So if we get the big jobs And we make the big money When we look back now Will our jokes still be funny?” —Vitamin C, “Graduation”
kyle blaine News Editor
theodore samets
meghan rose Sports Editor
Olivia Kupfer Life Editor
The Vanderbilt Hustler Staff List
Editor-in-Chief Chris Honiball News Editor Kyle Blaine Opinion Editor Theodore Samets Sports Editor meghan rose Asst Sports Editors eric single Jackson Martin Reid Harris Life Editor Olivia Kupfer Asst. Life Editors Lex ArdelJan-Braden Kyle Meacham Xiaoyu Qi Photography Editor Oliver Wolfe Supervising Copy Editor Peter Nygaard InsideVandy Editor Chris mcDonald Marketing Director George Fischer Art Director Matt Radford Designers Jennifer Brown erica chanin Emily Green Irene Hukkelhoven Katherine Miller nikki okoro Adriana salinas kristen webb Editorial Fellow gaby roman VSC Director Chris Carroll Asst. VSC Directors Jeff Breaux Paige Clancy
I spent Saturday night huddled in front of my TV, watching my beloved Montreal Canadiens fall in double-overtime to the Opinion Editor dreaded Boston Bruins. I watch a lot of hockey, and usually I watch alone. But on Saturday, two friends joined me. Both are hockey fans, but neither root for the Habs (the Canadiens’ nickname) or the Bruins. One of these friends has a very good reason to hate Montreal; last year, my eighth-seeded Canadiens defeated his first-seeded Washington Capitals in a nasty seven-game series. The other wouldn’t have much of a rooting interest, except he’s one of those guys who usually likes to root against his friends’ teams. But on Saturday, as Carey Price and Tim Thomas kept oneupping each other, each save more spectacular than the last, and as both teams’ offenses found themselves continually stymied, both of my friends were right there with me, cheering on the Habs. I recount this story, in my final column, in the year’s final issue of The Hustler, not with the goal of convincing you that there exists no greater sport than hockey. (Though it’s the truth: In what other game are the equivalent of assists and goals counted equally when pondering a player’s prowess?) Instead, I use it to give but one example of the friends I’ve made at Vanderbilt. Here we were, on a Saturday night three weeks from graduation, and instead of going to a party or Dayglow or Demonbreun, my friends sat with me, they cheered for my team and were disappointed alongside me when Nathan Horton slid the puck into the net after 91 minutes of play. I would have done the same for both of them, as I have many times before. Don’t ask me how much Pac-10 football or Nationals baseball I’ve watched in the last four years. Or, for that matter, how many times I missed the final round of College Jeopardy auditions because I didn’t calculate for the time difference between Nashville and
Theodore Samets
Opinion Editor
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Atlanta and wasn’t expecting the highway to be closed in Chattanooga. (It still hurts.) I graduate Vanderbilt with majors in English and History, a Portuguese minor, a lot of great stories and — most importantly — with friends who won’t disappear on May 14. There are people who I once called my closest friends who today I do little more than say, “Hello,” to when I see them in Rand or walking to class, and others whom I only got to know this year who I would trust with anything. And there are many more who fall somewhere in between. As cliche as it may be, I am using my final column to say thank you to all of those people. I feel so lucky to have known each and every one of you, from the boys of Lup 3 to the U.N. to the survivors of this March’s Norwegian Spirit adventure. Too soon? I feel like people who haven’t had four years like I have are missing something; I also happen to feel the same way about people who never read “The Phantom Tollbooth.” Freshman year, I spent spring break in Montevideo, Uruguay, building houses with 35 other Vanderbilt students. It was the first time since starting college that I felt like I belonged. I’ve felt the same way ever since. I’ve come along way since Uruguay, as anyone who was with me there can attest to, but I never forgot that I didn’t need to pretend to be someone who I wasn’t; I could get by fine by being myself. See you at Homecoming. ----------------------------------------------------------------------Finally, in my last column, my first correction: Last week, I co-wrote a column about human rights abuses in the United Arab Emirates. In that column, I referenced a law that prohibits anyone with an Israeli stamp in his or her passport from entering the United Arab Emirates. While that was once the case, it is no longer. As I believe raising awareness about the nature of Vanderbilt’s potential relationship with the autocratic regime in the United Arab Emirates is of the utmost importance, I felt it necessary to correct this error, lest it be used by the university to discount the validity of my concerns. —Theodore Samets is a senior in the College of Arts and Science. He can be reached at theodore.d.samets@vanderbilt.edu.
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Final column: All my friends I almost transferred my freshman year. That and hasn’t stopped since, a tireless promoter for those he is not to say like most first year students I felt cares about, one who puts P.T. Barnum to shame. homesick. No, I actually filled out applications; I could have thanked all three in person, but they would I addressed envelopes. have answered like this, in order: “No problem, Popkin,” “Of And I did not tell anyone about it. course” and “I got you, son.” Vanderbilt was a lonely place for me. The And then the conversation would be done. It is hard for me school days were long, and the weekends to say thanks, but in some ways, it may be harder for them to Matt were longer. For the first time in my life, I accept it. To do so means these four years are really over. So I do it here, because I’d like to thank them for one more Popkin did not feel a part of “it,” whatever “it” was. I walked places and was afraid to be seen. thing: letting me meet all of you. Columnist My hometown of Seattle was a long ways If I had left, I never would have met my new friends: ones from Nashville in more than miles. By mid-September, I gave who play “Taps” on their trumpet when I can’t sleep and up on making friends; this being the very time everyone else ones who try to convince freshman I was adopted into their seemed to be thriving. family from Africa. But I kept those envelopes in my desk drawer. I did not Winning trivia teams. Engagement parties. Girlfriends and send them. their friends and almost-girlfriends and their almost-friends. In this column, I’ve often talked Quarterbacks and high-jumpers about people at Vanderbilt in a and the toughest little runner in It is hard for me to say thanks, generalized way. I use “we.” I use all of Missouri, I wouldn’t have “us.” met any of you. but in some ways, it may be For once, let me be specific. I had I would have never gone to harder for them to accept it. To three friends freshman year, and Florida and rode roller coasters, do so means these four years are or been to Chicago and seen The without their knowing, they kept me here. Bean. I would have never tried really over. It’s strange what brings us to write a cheesy young adult together, fate or otherwise. I signed novel based in Kansas for a class up for a randomly assigned roommate, and there he was, project. a kid who hung his Texas state flag over his bed and had I took a risk when I came to Vanderbilt, and I have more than one pair of honest-to-God cowboy boots in his experienced everything such a risk can bring — the payoffs closet. But by the end of move-in day, people were asking and the losses, the successes and the failures. I want to stay if we’d known each other before we came here. And in in touch with all of you, but I know once a week will soon those days when I felt, probably rightly so, that I knew no turn into once every two, turn into once a month, once a one on campus, he would introduce me to every new friend year; an e-mail here, a text there. he made, even though I was slowly morphing into the And that’s all right. I’ll be seeing you at the bat mitzvahs nightmare roommate, the one who never left the dorm and and the quinceaneras. I’ll be giving the wedding toast you hated natural light. wish I’d just said in private, crazy Uncle Matt, always ready Across the hall was my current roommate, who I have with a magic trick for your kids. lived with ever since. Perhaps the best way to describe him is This is how my Vanderbilt career ends: not with transfer to say that he will not be pleased to read this paragraph, his paperwork, but with the promise that I’ll pick up the phone cheeks turning the color of his red hair; the kid is so modest and call when it’s been awhile. and polite, I’m often asked how we are friends. Thanks for that. I signed up for my fall classes after the deadline, taking a spot wherever I could get one, and there I met a fellow West — Matt Popkin is a senior in the College of Arts and Science. Coaster who started talking to me one day in General Logic He can be reached at matthew.d.popkin@vanderbilt.edu.
opinion POLIC Y The Vanderbilt Hustler opinion page aims to stimulate discussion in the Vanderbilt community. In that spirit, columnists, guest columnists and authors of letters to the editor are expected to provide logical argument to back their views. Unreasonable arguments, arguments in bad faith or arguments in vain between columnists have no place in The Hustler and will not be published. The Hustler welcomes reader viewpoints and offers three methods of expression: letters to the editor, guest columns and feedback on InsideVandy.com. Letters must be submitted either in person by the author to the Hustler office or via e-mail to opinion@insidevandy.com. Letters via e-mail must come from
Your voice doesn’t stop here. The Vanderbilt Hustler encourages its readers to voice their opinions on legislative issues. The following students and legislators represent the Vanderbilt community.
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President Lori Murphy Vanderbilt Student Government 3028 Station B lori.t.murphy@vanderbilt.edu Sarratt 355 (615) 322-8742
U.S. Sen. Lamar Alexander United States Senate Washington, DC 20510 (202) 224-4944 (615) 736-5129
a Vanderbilt e-mail address where the identity of the sender is clear. With rare exception, all letters must be received by 1 p.m. on Tuesday, Thursday or Sunday. The editor reserves the right to edit and condense submissions for length as well as clarity. Lengthy letters that focus on an issue affecting students might be considered for a guest column at the editor’s discretion. All submissions become the property of The Hustler and must conform to the legal standards of Vanderbilt Student Communications, of which The Hustler is a division.
U.S. Sen. Bob Corker United States Senate Washington, DC 20510 (202) 224-3344 (615) 279-9488
Rep. Jim Cooper U.S. House of Rep. Washington, DC 20515 (202) 225-4311 (615) 736-5295
Rep. Brenda Gilmore Tenn. District 54 P.O. Box 281934 Nashville, TN 37228 (615) 876-3665
Get paid. If I could compress what I’ve learned this year into two words, it would be that. I don’t mean to proselytize making money because I don’t want to Jesse offend anyone’s morals. Jones Instead, I only mean to Columnist ask you to consider the option to make money because it does exist, and for me, it has been very good. For all my life, I’ve been what you might call a “nice guy.” I studied. I worked hard. I was good to people, accommodating, mature. And I still am, mostly. But for some strange reason, these are not always the qualities that companies look for when they’re choosing their hirelings. Last year, I fell in love with a company, but they just wouldn’t take me. Fair enough. It’s the oldest story in the world, and I’ve been on the receiving end of the pink slip many times. And yet — the psychic torment of rejection! Agh! It’s horrible! I withdrew from my friends, my family, my very self. I lost touch. I went numb. But there was no way to know how numb I’d become until I compared my former pain with the joy I feel today. Not because I’m currently in a stable employer-employee relationship — I’m not — but because another company came along, as they are wont to do, and I got to put in work, just for one night. It was wonderful! And in the morning, my depression was cured! Now, I realize this column so far has been all about money. But I’m not just some money-grubbing maniac. I’m not the kind of guy who lives for the thrill of turning that check over, signing my big name and cashing it all. I’m a much more complicated individual than that. I preach what I practice. I tell everyone I meet — farm your resume around so you can create a deep, lasting bond with some employer somewhere. Don’t sell yourself short on some part-time, dead-end, temporary fling — unless, of course, that’s all you can get. Be idealistic, and if that doesn’t work, be practical. And don’t just make money. Make memories. Meet people. Laugh. Smile. Study, but don’t let school get in the way of your education. Just keep living life as the awesome person you are, and one day the right employer is going to find you. I just know it. Until then, figure out if anything feels wrong in your career approach, apply yourself actively and fix your problem. Once you’ve gotten your own house in order, imagine what you could do. You could eat a peach. You could farm your resume out to all sorts of different soulsucking corporations. You could sit out on Alumni lawn on a beautiful day and write a sentence about sitting out on Alumni lawn on a beautiful day — and dream about getting paid for it all. Companies dig mysterious writer types, or at least I hope so. Last Thursday, I ran into Mr. Socrates again. Predictably, we got into an argument. He asked me to give a metaphysical justification for my Objectivist morality. When I said that suffering is bad, he asked me to state why. I said that we suffer from hunger when we don’t eat; therefore, pain warns us to correct conditions which threaten the cancellation of our being. Then Mr. Socrates asked me to explain why extending one’s life should be a worthy goal. In language a philosopher might understand: So you can drink more? In layman’s terms: Have fun! — Jesse Jones is a junior in the College of Arts and Science. He can be reached at jesse.g.jones@vanderbilt.edu.
correction POLIC Y Accuracy is our profession. As the “Voice of Vanderbilt,” we are committed to ensuring our work is fair and accurate. Errors of substance will be corrected. With very rare exception, these corrections will be listed on Page 2. Bring corrections to the Hustler office in Sarratt 130 or e-mail us at hustler. news@insidevandy.com. You may also report them by telephone to the news line at (615) 322-2424.
Sen. Douglas Henry Jr. Tenn. District 21 11 Legislative Plaza Nashville, TN 37243-0021 (615) 741-2380
Council Member Kristine LaLonde 2005 20th Avenue South Nashville, TN 37212 (615) 522-7319