It is not often I wrap myself in the flag or get misty-eyed with patriotic sentiment. Perhaps this is because, as a history major, it is easy to get lost in the doom and gloom of most U.S. history classes. Or perhaps I am simply cynical by nature; I hope this is not the case — but maybe.
When I was a junior at the University of Michigan, I experienced the worst panic attack of my life. At the time, I was on spring break from a semester abroad in Scotland, midway through a long-planned trip through Spain, France and Italy. It was, in theory, the highlight of my semester.
A common post revolving around the internet right now that condemns the near total abortion ban in Alabama states, “Men shouldn’t be making laws about women’s bodies” has been flying around the interne
I’m an Art & Design student in the Penny Stamps School of, yes, Art & Design. Specifically, I’m a Bachelor of Arts, not a Bachelor of Fine Arts, in Art & Design. As the italicization indicates, for us Stampers, that’s a big deal.
My story always begins with, “My grandfather, my Zayde, was a Holocaust survivor.” Sometimes I am embarrassed by how salient that fact is to my identity. I have often pondered how strange it is to have an identity rooted in tragedy.