“College is the time when the boy you are meets the man you are going to be.” When Dr. Sparky Reardon—longtime Dean of Students at Ole Miss—told us that at the Interfraternity Council New Member Reception a few weeks ago, it got me thinking about how you can figure out the man you are going to be.
“I’m gonna go get some breakfast and maybe walk around a little bit.” “Do you want some company?” “Yeah, sure!” And we were off.
Next time you walk down Main Quad, have a look at the outside of the West Union building.
Even among those of us who feel immune, it is hard to escape the idea that each thing we do has to prepare us for the next thing down the road.
Two months ago, I wrote a column for Campaign Stop 2016 about my vision and hope for what good Republican leadership would look like: facing the issues head on, applying traditional Republican values instead of religious conservatism and showing a willingness to engage in bipartisan conversation.
“Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different. We love to talk on things we don’t know about.” I have learned a lot over the past fifteen months of writing columns for The Chronicle, but perhaps nothing more important than the fact that you don’t know how much you don’t know until you open up your ideas for public comment. With that in mind, I tread very carefully over what I am about to say. Like most students on campus, I have stayed quiet over the last many weeks as racial tensions have percolated and boiled over.
In a rare foray into the political scene, I have the following thoughts about the recent discussion regarding the refugee crisis. But first let me back up.
“Hey Max, you’ve got to check out this school called Duke. You’ll love it!” When I was a junior in high school, I had my heart set on another school a few hours north on I-95.
I am a big fan of John Steinbeck, and I am getting ready to read his book “Travels with Charley” (in which he travels the country trying to rediscover the American Dream). In a departure this week from healthcare, I want to include excerpts from two letters I wrote home last summer shortly after driving from Oakland to Denver.
When I went to the store this summer to buy a television for my dorm room, I entered a contract of sorts with the seller.
