Use the fields below to perform an advanced search of The Chronicle's archives. This will return articles, images, and multimedia relevant to your query. You can also try a Basic search
167 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
When I was five years old, I spent some extended time in the hospital—the details of which aren’t too important for this story, except that it was a long time and a hard one. And I had some very specific ways of passing the time. I recall there was a lot of “Gilligan's Island” on Nick at Nite. There were endless rounds of Mario Kart on the Nintendo that was blessedly installed in the room. And there was “Mrs. Doubtfire.”
If you are one of those well-rested, or otherwise non-morning folk like myself, I tell you, if you need a change in your life, start doing mornings. They’re terrific. The toast. The coffee! The coolness of the air that reminds you of a different country. It feels like a miracle when you start to wake up of your own accord, preempting the alarm as though interrupting a pesky coworker with exactly the words they were about to say. And perhaps the best part is saying “good morning” to anyone you’d like to—more valuable than any of the other salutations because its truthfulness is running out a short clock until noon.
At the camp I have gone to—and eventually staffed—since I was nine years old, there is nothing to protect you from the unexpected, no matter who you are. Originally a member of the Youngest Girls cabin, I learned this instantaneously when I returned to my cabin one day to find it rendered inaccessible by hundreds of yards of dental floss strung strategically between bedposts. Only hours before, I had complained to my counselor about our prior exclusion from the prank wars as the tiniest group of females at camp. The floss, though a sure inconvenience, provided more than a little thrill. Another night, a golf cart decorated as a spaceship driven by a Darth Vader prowled the camp to invade and wake people up with its mechanical voice. Yet another day, the personnel director’s car was discovered parked in the dining hall at breakfast time, filled with packing peanuts and coated in industrial Saran Wrap.
Barbara Hammond, a playwright in residence at New Dramatists in New York, has been visiting Duke for two weeks to work with students in Jody McAuliffe's advanced acting class and stage her work in progress, “We Are Pussy Riot.”
Sunday, March 2, 1986 marked the end of a remarkable season for the Duke men’s basketball team. The Blue Devils were 28-2, undefeated at home and ranked No. 2 in the country leading up to their game against No. 3 North Carolina. And Duke students had noticed—a number had been waiting in line for a week see the team one more time.
My experience with newspapers started back in 2007, when my classmates and I produced a weekly four-page Word document and shamelessly distributed it to all 62 people in our grade. If I recall correctly, our stories centered on topics like “How to Shave Your Legs” and bitter reviews of assigned books. That said, my newspaper experience didn’t really start there because under no circumstances could what we made have been considered a newspaper.
Brian McGinn T'07 is an L.A.-based director whose work includes the Netflix series "Chef's Table" and the HBO TV film "Ferrell Takes the Field." McGinn returned to campus to chat with students as well as answer questions at a screening of "Chef's Table" sponsored by Freewater productions, DEMAN, Artstigators, DSB and the Kenan Institute for Ethics. The Chronicle's Georgia Parke sat down with McGinn to talk about "Chef's Table," and the creative worlds of food and directing.
The people I communicate the most with via text are the ones with whom I trade the fewest sensical words. Each message bubble is carefully constructed so as not to include a hint of correct grammar or un-ironic jargon, with subjects made unnecessarily plural and l33t speak preferable to anything else. My friends are my friends because we speak the same butchered language and make a habit of verb-ing nouns. Cloaked in blankets we talk about what kind of bats we are and pick an accent for the day. We have forgotten most of our French.
Stephanie Joe is a senior majoring in Dance and Visual and Media Studies who has choreographed and will be performing in the Dance department’s performances this weekend, November Dances. The Chronicle’s Georgia Parke sat down with Joe to talk about the performance and what it means to be a Dance major at Duke.
I got out of work on Monday at about 4:30 p.m., just as the day was on the cusp of turning dark. It was not quite raining, but dripping, and warm. I remember thinking that I didn’t need the added warmth of the hat I had on and that it was too late in the day for another coffee. On my way to the timeless Von Der Heyden Pavilion—known to friends as “Vondy,” “le vond,” my mailing address—I had to stop in front of the Languages building. Someone was blasting classical music out of a second floor window facing the quad. With one window from the room propped open despite the damp weather, I had to assume that the person playing the music did not intend it to be contained.
Rohina Malik, a playwright and actress raised in London and living in Chicago, will be coming to White Lecture Hall this Saturday at 7p.m. to perform her one-woman show “Unveiled.”
Art fans tired of the same old cliches should not be fooled by the titles like “Untitled” and “Self-Portrait” in Tony Waldron’s new exhibit.
Follow your dreams, kids. You want to be an expert on Canada? There’s a minor for that. Part your hair on the left side for a change? Crazier things have happened (though not many). And there’s nothing like the overwhelming indeterministic sense of opportunity that comes with senior year to motivate you into some real raucous risk taking. You are a human. We have so much time. What else is there to do but try?
Dave Karger, a 1995 Trinity graduate, knows his way around a red carpet. As a writer for Entertainment Weekly for 17 years, he covered a wide range of entertainment news while keeping one foot in the broadcast world as a regular contributor on the Today Show. In 2012, Karger made the jump to be NBC's Chief Correspondent for Fandango, where he now hosts two shows talking with entertainment stars and making a splash online. Karger, who is also involved with Duke Entertainment Media and Arts Network and the Duke in LA program, came back to Duke for the second time this year last week. The Chronicle's Georgia Parke sat down with Karger to talk about the ins and outs of entertainment media.
Time flies when you're brewing beer.
Glasgow electronic synth-pop trio CHVRCHES dropped their sophomore album “Every Open Eye” last Friday, Sept. 25. Their first full-length release since 2013’s “The Bones of What You Believe,” it faced a tough challenge of living up to the mammoth single “The Mother We Share.” Nothing on that first album was nearly as good as the song that put the group on the map—that is, the map of internationally everywhere—but it established a style and a feeling so clean and distinctive that the group was able to shoot from “derivative” to “influential”—according to The Atlantic—in the space of two short years. This second album is at once effusive and meticulous, forgoing an attempt to overshadow early success but rather hammering in the CHVRCHES sound we know and love through consistency and energy among their tracks.
There’s a remarkable diversity of relationships you can find and make in this place. There are your superpower soul sisters who know you so well that you speak in your own private tongue. Your freshman friendlies who you’d take to lunch for an hour but not much more, your intellectual crushes whose knowledge you want to swim inside. Your Latin Dance (take the class!) partner of the day who’s in close physical—but not emotional—contact. Your “We almost dated.” Your “I slept on their couch after roller skating one time.” The range of fellow people have at minimum one thing in common with you: they are also here. Sometimes that’s about it, but you talk to them and sometimes share with them precious pieces of your identity.
Some of Durham’s oldest stories are being told through some of the city’s youngest residents this summer.
There are so many reasons why I love the summer and most of them are cliches. I like how it’s slow and I like how it’s hot. I like how I feel like tearing through as many books as possible, a habit probably born out of middle school reading quotas. I like how coffee seems a little crazier to drink when you’re already hyper and burning up from the sun. I like how you feel things more, as though the humidity is extracting emotion out of your skin one drop at a time. The trees get really big. Berries. Bikes. Beaches. It all rolls in like a long-term houseguest who leaves fresh flowers on your bedside table.
Mipso, a quartet of North Carolina natives that formed while students at UNC-Chapel Hill, kicked off Duke's Music in the Gardens series June 3 to a sold-out crowd. The group, which will release their second album this September with back-to-back appearances at Cat's Cradle in Carrboro, is known for their inventive take on bluegrass and Americana and their fine-tuned three-part harmonies. The Chronicle's Georgia Parke talked to mandolin player Jacob Sharp and fiddle player Libby Rodenbough before their set at Sarah P. Duke Gardens about where they've been (Duke Coffeehouse and Japan, to name a couple), where they are this summer and where their sound is going.
