My eyes rose up from the pages of my book as I felt the train slow down beneath me. From the sepia-tinted windows, I saw that the train had pulled into the central station, hissing as it applied the breaks to come to a full stop. Here, in the busiest part of the city, people came in and out of trains, weaving in between one another. Each person was captured in their own daily routine, failing to understand how the people around them were the characters of the mighty tale that was the day in the life of them. And those days were compounded with each day that they spent just living, in the pure essence of what it meant to just be human.

“Shit,” I muttered. Here I am waxing philosophy after I just looked out the damn window. I extended my legs out before letting them fall to the ground. The soles of my Chelsea boots caught the linoleum in a scraping sound.  I jumped up and started to move out, off the train, which still lay dormant on the tracks though the chiming from the intercom made it seem like it was about to rush away, back into the sunlit city. A trap song pounded out of my headphones, the words unintelligible, but the bass line boomed and popped with my step as I started towards a dingy stall of a newsstand. I quickly picked up a copy of the New York Times off the stand, and handed the old man a crumpled up fiver, telling him to keep the change as I quickly poached a large chocolate bar from where it was hanging on the side of the stall. The old man only grunted in reply, sliding a large hand over the bill, and hit the buttons on the register to put the money away, before going back to his small radio, shouting at the announcers in some language that wasn’t discernible to anyone but him. The newspaper was getting more expensive everyday. But it was a novelty, I thought, looking at the photo in the front of the paper.

“You know everything in there is available on your phone right?” a clear voice broke through my thoughts.

“Excuse me?” I swiveled, confusion laced in my tone looking for who had said that.

“I said, everything in that paper is on your phone. For free. So you just spent money unnecessarily and killed a tree while you’re at it” the source of the voice was a girl, and a very attractive one at that. I smiled in spite of myself. But while my mouth contoured into a smile, her’s tightened into a straight line.

“The crossword isn’t. That’s only available on the original” I replied, slapping the paper to prove my point, smugness emanating from my very tone. Ha, look at that witty retort. I took in her appearance. Her hair was curly and cascaded down, framing her face, which was still frowning. Her eyes, amber hued, were narrowed in dislike for, what I hoped, was the paper in my hand and not myself. Her lips were drawn so thin, they just resembled two thin pink lines that ran horizontal to one another.

“So in the noble pursuit of a crossword, you will ruin a tree?” she asked with her look of distaste firmly planted on her face. Oh man that voice. It had a slight lilt to it, no accent discernible at all, though she spoke as someone who had definitely argued with anyone and everyone she could. But her tone betrayed her face. While her face looked quite unhappy with me (or was it the entire world around her?), her voice was so heavily laced with sarcasm, I was amazed it hadn’t fallen down. I liked her more and more with every word that she spoke.

“Well yes, and the actual paper. Holding the paper is one of those feelings that can’t be replicated. I’m old school, I like having the paper. Besides, I made that chaps day over there didn’t I?” jerking my head to the newsstand owner, who had not stopped yelling at his radio. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard him breath since he started. How did he do it?

“Mo can get by without your patronage, I’m sure of it.” she responded rapidly.

“Mo? You know the name of the stall owner? Does this make you a regular of that fine establishment? Or a daughter…” I trailed off, I now had no idea where this was going.

With that she dropped the façade on her face and let out a laugh. It wasn’t a girlish giggle, but a real laugh, coming from the pit of her stomach. Her face went back to a smile, flashing me with her front teeth, and I felt my heart speed up when I saw that. My hand flew into my hair, sweeping it back. If I had to be accused of being a fascist everyday just to see her smile for a minute, you could call me Mussolini.  I had met this girl 5 minutes ago, and I’d let myself be called whatever names she wanted for the chance of a smile. I was screwed.

“Oh no, I’m not related to Mo in any way at all, am I?” she called to the man, who merely grunted in return. “I’m  just a regular who doesn’t see many people get the physical copy of the paper any more. And the Times? You knew we aren’t in New York right?” she had dropped the aggressive tone she had originally used. Instead, she seemed genuinely curious. My grin only grew larger.

“Well, I picked it up in college. Literally, we had the paper delivered to our dorm room doors every morning so I’d literally just have to pick it up. And I like it better than any other paper.” I replied, my words coming out slowly. But I could see her lose interest in what I was saying as a dog walked past her. I couldn’t fault her. Any dog is better than a guy chatting you up on a train platform. I instead took the whole image of this girl in. Her hair fell down the top of her shoulder, where she wore a leather jacket with a faded t-shirt for some band underneath. She looked like a less ridiculous Sandra-Dee at the end of Grease. I was so busy taking her in, I didn’t realize the dog left, and her attention had snapped back to me.

“See something you like?” she asked. Her voice was dripped with cheek.

“You look like a toned down version of Sandra Dee, you know from Grease.” I blurted out. Yea, that was smooth. Way to go man, you are just the man at attracting women.

But she laughed and smiled:“Well then, are you my yuppie Danny Zuko?” and my grin got so big, I thought it might split my face in half.

“Close, but its Jay not Danny.” I responded, as smoothly as I could, so most likely not that smooth at all.

“Mia, my name is Mia”, the girl said, all of a sudden becoming very shy. “Well come on then Jay, tell me, what does the New York Times think is worth printing? Buy a girl a drink?” And with that she turned on her heel and headed towards the exit.

“Sure” I stuttered out. “I already missed my train,” I muttered to no one in particular, before speeding up to chase after her. She laughed as she ran ahead, hair bouncing around as she walked past the doors and into the sunlight street. “Oh yea,” I thought, “this girl is something else.”

 

The wind, and rustling leaves

Makes me believe

That all is not lost

No matter what comes

And no matter the cost

 

You can always retreat to the wood and get lost

You can walk and walk

And never get tired

Find a branch to sit on

And think for awhile

 

The wood is wild and alive

With bees buzzing by their hive

Rabbits hopping

Birds cawing

Foxes clawing

 

This world is separate and serene

But being bastardized and demeaned

By human beings

Who can’t seem to see

The harm that they’re doing

 

I love the wood

I love the air

I know that it is wild and unfair

When humans are gone, it will remain

But we think the opposite

Are we insane?

 

I was never the most athletic person, and by just looking at me you would never think that I played on the offensive line. But ever since I started playing football that was where I was put. That is where I learned the most important lessons of my life.

I played football for 8 years. Ran countless sprints, hills, and worked out tirelessly in the weight room. It wasn’t until I joined the Varsity team that I started to enjoy the sport. It wasn’t the plethora of games that we played(the royal ‘we’ I never really played much), or the exhilarating feeling you got after winning a game that made me enjoy the sport so much(even though those moments were special).

It was summer training that I loved, however at the time I would have told you otherwise. It was here at 6:30 in the morning that friendships were forged, camaraderie instilled, and hard work was taught. It was on those mornings that I was taught what it meant to be successful.

The training was broken down into 5 parts:

1. Cone Drills
2. Weight Lifting
3. Hills
4. Individual Techniques
5. Gassers(50 yard sprints in which down and back-down and back was counted as 1…we did 4)

Throughout the whole time of this regimen our coaches would be yelling at us to: “Run through the cones…you cannot have effort without enthusiasm…do not bend over, do not show weakness,” and while we ran our hills our head coach would always say: “what a beautiful day,” whether it was sunny or raining and, “You gotta run the hills in life to get to the top!”

To me, after a while, all of these platitudes just became white noise. Something that they would say just so you wouldn’t be lethargic throughout the whole training. I would be lying if I said that after a while I started to hate their ‘catch phrases,’ in fact many of the players, when the coaches weren’t around or out of ear shot, would poke fun at such silly phrases.

It wasn’t until the end of my senior year, going into college that what they were saying wasn’t just intended to make us better football players, but build character and make us better people. Our coaches were preparing us for once we eventually left the safe confines of High School, into a world that can be as unforgiving as it can be beautiful. They were preparing us for the times where life knocks you down, and you really consider not getting back up.

I would be lying to all of you if I said that I have never thought about quitting, about giving up, about laying down and feeling sorry for myself. Whenever I feel this way, however, I always hear my coach screaming: “Quit feeling sorry for yourself, stop bending over, and finish the damn drill!” Whenever I feel like I’ve half-assed an assignment or project I hear him yelling: “Finish through the cones!” Whenever I’ve felt that college was too much I hear him say: “You gotta sprint the hills in life to get to the top!”

Even though we won a small amount of games, my time as a Greenville Football player shaped and molded me into the person I am today. Without Dave Moore, Dave Fortino, Andy Fedder, Mike Rasmussen, Rick Plate, Mat Stone, Mike Walsh, and countless others, I wouldn’t have the tools nor the constitution to take on 2 majors, and continue to get good grades and take risks in life.

Thank you and I hope that you continue to influence the lives of young men.

Best,

#68 Mitchell Timmerman

When you enter into the study of any of the social sciences you have to be able to be willing to learn about different perspectives and viewpoints. Learning the social theories of Weber, Locke, Rousseau, Plato, Aristotle, and Marx(dare I say it), you have to have the ability to entertain a thought without having to accept it(easier said than done, but still possible). We do this because there is a methodology to these theories that we learn. These theories and ideas have been scrutinized, peer reviewed, and critiqued beyond belief, yet they still stand and have validity in our present day. Therefore we have to give them time for reflection.

However, during this election season there has been a man that launched his campaign based off of xenophobic and racist ideologies. Many people have flocked to this candidate, and hope for his election into the highest office of government. This candidate has repeatedly condoned violence at his rallies, claiming that he would pay any lawyer fees if necessary. He has been endorsed by a Klu Klux Klansman and did not disavow the endorsement. Just recently, there was audio of this candidate saying that he has not only forced himself upon women but also grabbing there genitals without consent, and saying it was ‘okay’ because he was a star. The extent to which this man has demeaned, belittled and offended people of all races, creeds, ethnicities, and gender orientations is astronomical.

Yet, when I protest the invitation of this man to speak at my University, a university that prides itself on diversity and acceptance, I am made out as the intolerant one. Told: “you have to be open to other viewpoints.” To which I respond: if this fool had any plan, and policy that he would implement, then sure I’d love to listen to such nonsense. However, he has none. All he does is lie, cheat, and steal.

So, let me make this perfectly clear: I do not listen to racists. I do not entertain bigots, and I do not tolerate unjustified hatred towards my fellow man. I WILL NOT LISTEN TO DONALD TRUMP NOR ANYONE THAT LIKES HIM. Because what they believe is archaic, and nonsensical. Because he would not afford me the same courtesy, because he would rather see my friends and family deported or jailed. There is a point in time where you have to put your foot down and say enough and enough, and not tolerate the continued attacks of a bully.

Donnie, you’re out of your element so shut the fuck up.

Signed,

Mitchell Timmerman

The sound of the rushing water soothes his aching mind

He sits by the fountain all day, just to pass the time

Getting much enjoyment and not having to spend a dime

He writes rhymes and rhymes

Painstakingly trying to solve the riddle that is time

The water continues to rush: soothing his aching mind

 

He does not wish to move

For fear that he will lose

Lose, the answer that is on the tip of his tongue

He does not want to leave

Without his song being unsung

 

The water continues to rush

Rushing and flowing

Pushing and pulling

Ebbing and slowing

Never stoping, always foaming

 

And yet he sits

Phone dead and mind alive

He wishes not to be apart of the hive mind

He wishes to be himself: strong and kind

ALIVE!

Not blind.

 

The water stops and he leaves

Journeys back to the bed where he sleeps

No sound is made now, not a peep.