Word: celling
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Along with the click of four-color pens and the occasional bleep of the obstreperous cell phone, the newest sound to be heard in Harvard's lecture halls is the click-clack of knitting needles. While it feels a little absurd to place this activity--formerly associated with hearthside grandmothers--alongside the yo-yo and the hula hoop in the ranks of the truly faddish, it's hard not to notice the conspicuous rise of "chicks who knit...
...been talking about my twenty-first birthday for months. Each twenty-eighth day from July to October was a chalk mark in my cell of illegality. Fumbling with IDs which couldn't possibly be mine; hastily memorizing "I live on Cedar Lane, am 5'11," and August 6, 1975 makes me twenty three" and explaining to bouncers that the airport in Toronto had lost my luggage and "of course my passport, too...doesn't that suck?" would be a thing of the past. I would be allowed to drink as myself. I could wear what I wanted to bars...
...Slam starts to look like a 'hooded update of The Corn Is Green and A Star Is Born. But hope is never that simple. Ray realizes that the prospect of a meaningful future can be even more frustrating than the certitude of two to five in a D.C. cell...
Then it hit me sometime last week when yet another cell phone went off during Warren Court lecture. As another gaggle of stylish juniors in tight jeans walked out of Sever, a water bottle in one hand and a cigarette dangling from another, I realized that this wasn't the campus I used to know. Where before, "the look" ranged from J.Crew all-American to a slightly grungy indifference to style, something has now clearly shifted...
While the kids are playing Cell Mates, Kurtzberg spends part of her afternoon sorting through the dozens of pleas she receives daily from frightened parents and suffering children. A fax lying on her desk today is from a Russian boy. "I beg you to help me," it reads in part. "I don't want...