Columns

Bittersweet Seniority

Important and Urgent
By: Danielle Koch (‘12),
May 10, 2012

Commencement approaches. Soon, I’ll zip up my black robe, march to my seat to “Pomp and Circumstance,” shake a few hands, shift the blue and white tassel from left to right, and embrace my family after the dragged-out ceremony. Tears will run down my face during all three hours of it.

Our Shakespeare

By: Mark Z. Muggli, Professor of English,
May 10, 2012

This summer reading list is preparation for 2012-13, which may be the most performance-intensive Shakespeare year in Luther’s history.

“Much Ado About Nothing”

True Brits

By: Michelle Boike (‘13),
May 3, 2012

Ahh, Paris – the city of croissants, Moulin Rouge and inescapable people. Paris is like many other big cities in the world. Full of people, languages, and as any, a likely place for crime and the reason for your mom’s increased heart rate.

Great taste, less filling

By: Ethan Groothuis ('13),
May 3, 2012

With spring finally here, many have taken to the great rite of passage of wearing shorts outside. Being a big fan of showing off my pale, chicken legs to anyone willing to melt their face a la “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” I made sure to pull my favorite pairs out of their dusty, moth ball tomb. I proudly walked outside into the beautiful sunshine, to the unfortunate sound of cackling.

Beyond the Looking Glass

By: Hannah Lund ('12),
May 3, 2012

One of the first things I remember from freshmen year is when I fell from a 15-foot cliff in the Hodag Cave.

I was swinging my leg over the edge, really about a few inches from grabbing onto my friend at the top, only to slip and flail my way down through the gloom.

Le moine et le voyou

By: Charlie Parrish ('13),
April 26, 2012

Editor’s note: The title for this column comes from the nickname for French composer Francis Poulenc. Translated idiomatically, the phrase means “Half Monk, Half Delinquent.”

Beyond the Looking Glass

By: Hannah Lund ('12),
April 19, 2012

There’s a storm coming. The rat-a-tat-tat of a thousand computer keys flailing through the night as the power-supply of Preus Library takes a beating and the printer laments its fate, spewing page after page of tear-striped Times New Roman, 12 point font. We’ve been watching the storm churn at a distance, knowing full well that it would hit us soon enough.

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