The Miami Student Magazine | Fall 2021 by The Miami Student

VOLUME IX | FALL 2021

FROM THE EDITOR

Dear reader,

Photo by Jake Ruffer

For this issue, our staff considered what it really means to exist. As cheesy as that may sound, we wanted a theme that would capture everyone’s unique realities and the discovery of life’s twists and turns. And so, we landed on Being. It took days for us to reach this conclusion, but once we did, it seemed so simple. Nothing describes our life experiences more accurately than “being.” After all, that is what we do day in and day out. In this issue, our stories examine different aspects of the human experience. Our first piece, “With you/Without you” by Madeline Phaby, looks at death and what it means to live without the ones you love. Through reflecting on her memories, Madeline shows us how to learn from death, rather than feel angered by it. In our seventh issue of the magazine, Henri Robbins went on a search for the Frogman of Loveland, Ohio. In his newest piece, “The Search for the Moonville Ghosts,” his investigation continues, but this time for the spirits of Moonville Tunnel deep in the Ohio country. Henri also wrote “The Grand Canyon,” our poetry piece for this issue. Next is Corbett Haase, who explores the way women are treated in the classroom setting. Through her own experiences, as well as the experiences of others, she shows what it means to be an educated woman today. Then there’s Jack Schmelzinger, who profiles Miami hockey’s equipment manager, Andy Geshan, and

discovers the ins and outs of the sport. One of our assistant editor’s, Skyler Perry, earns the cover story spot for her reporting in “Fighting Their Reflection.” In this piece, students speak out about their body image. In “The Question of Commitment,” Grace Killian shows what it’s like to date while in your senior year at Miami. Two couples present their stories and their decision to make the commitment. Similarly, Jake Ruffer looks at relationships, but in the context of Miami Merger children. This piece examines whether or not a certain pressure exists for these students to follow in their parents’ footsteps. And wrapping up the issue, there is “The People vs. Peabody” by Claire Lordan. Claire reflects on her firstyear experience of living in one of the more isolated dorms on campus during the peak of the pandemic. I want to thank all of our talented writers in this issue. All of you did an amazing job, and I’m so happy each of you agreed to write for us. And a huge thank you to my editorial team: Claire Lordan, GraciAnn Hicks, Jake Ruffer and Skyler Perry. This issue would’ve been nothing without the four of you. I appreciate you guys putting up with me. Our photographer, Kate DeJesus, did an amazing job with the Andy Geshan profile. Thank you for working with us. And last but certainly not least, I want to thank Mason Thompson, our art director, and his design team. Your work is truly incredible, and I’m always left in awe. Mason and I worked hard to get new paper for this print issue, and I’m so proud of the both of us. We did it once again! With that, I hope everyone enjoys this issue as much as we do. Here’s to Issue IX.

Sam Cioffi Editor-in-Chief

Volume IX | Fall 2021

Editor-in-Chief Sam Cioﬃ Art Director Mason Thompson Editorial Staff Claire Lordan, GraciAnn Hicks, Jake Ruffer, Skyler Perry Art Staff Annie Jacquemin, Macey Chamberlain, Kate DeJesus Copy Editors Megan Copenhaver, Ellie Piszel Business Manager Emil Barr Head of Student Media Tim Carlin Faculty Advisor James Tobin Business Advisor Sacha Bellman

PROSE Sam Cioffi

Letter from the Editor

Madeline Phaby

With You/Without You

Henri Robbins

The Search for the Moonville Ghosts

Corbett Haase

Unseen

Jack Schmelzinger

Keeping it Cool

Skyler Perry

Fighting Their Reﬂection

Henri Robbins

40 The Grand Canyon

Grace Killian

The Question of Commitment

Jake Ruffer

Under Upham Arch

Claire Lordan

The People vs. Peabody

PERSONAL HISTORY

Madeline Phaby

Keeping the memory of loved ones alive 4

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You could ask it any yes or no question, and it would respond: one beep meant yes, two beeps meant no. Every time he came over, I’d ask the car countless goofy questions and receive answers to all of them. My grandpa, hiding his key fob in his pocket, watched with delight. He was a Vietnam veteran with a Purple Heart, but he didn’t act like a hardened soldier — at least, not with his grandkids. When he babysat me every Thursday, we’d spend hours scribbling in coloring books. He marveled at how good I was at staying inside the lines. One November morning, my dad, the oldest of Grandpa Jim’s six kids, got a call from my grandma. He was dead. We think it was a heart attack, but they never did an autopsy, so we don’t know for sure. Given that he was just 61 and had no known health issues, it remains a mystery. When he got the news, though, the cause of death was the last thing on my dad’s mind. He sat down and buried his face in his hands. “How am I gonna tell Madeline?” he croaked to my mom. *** I was five years old when my Grandpa Jim died. It was both my first experience with death and one of my first memories — my mom telling me at the dinner table, sitting quietly in the funeral home with my cousins, not quite knowing what to make of the situation.

photo-illustrations by Mason Thompson

Death is difficult to process when it’s your first time losing someone, especially when you’re five. But, as I would soon find out, it never really gets any easier, even when it becomes a constant fixture in your life. In the decade or so following my Grandpa Jim’s death, I attended several wakes and funerals, but most were for older relatives whose deaths were not particularly shocking. But during a three-year stretch when I was in high school, my entire perception of the world gradually fell apart. When I was 16, my dad’s best friend Chris, affectionately known as “Uncle Tanky” to my brother and me, died. This loss was tangibly different than the previous ones. Uncle Tanky was just 48 — my dad’s best friend for more than 40 years. He was a constant presence in my life, and I saw him twice as often as many of my family members. The only reason I even knew Miami University existed was because his son went here — and he predicted I’d end up here, too. He was the fourth close friend my dad had lost in a period of five years. I’ve been a huge baseball fan since I was about 8 years old, and though that can mostly be attributed to my dad, my Uncle Tanky also played a major role in my fandom because of the massive number of games I watched at his house.

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My family went to dozens of parties at my Uncle Tanky’s house over the years, and while my brother played with the other kids, I preferred to hang out with the foul-mouthed, beer-drinking men.

Truthfully, I could never run out of things to say about my Papa. The son of poor Irish immigrants, he owned and operated his own electrical business for the better part of his adult life. Everywhere he went, he commanded respect.

At first, I didn’t care much about the games we watched and just wanted to feel cool hanging out with the adults. After a few years and a lot of instruction from my dad and uncle, though, I could talk baseball with the best of them — I still can.

Everyone talks about how similar I am to him, from my looks to my wit to my stubborn industriousness. I never get tired of hearing it.

I still remember the way I felt when I saw my uncle, the life of every party, who never missed an opportunity to bust my chops, in a casket. All the air exited my lungs, and it seemed as though the walls were closing in on me. It didn’t feel real. Five years later, it still doesn’t. I was spared from death for 16 months, but when I was 17, my other grandpa — Papa — died. My mom, knowing she’d be too emotional to write her own father’s eulogy, asked me to do it. I agreed, but it was an unbelievably daunting task. How do you capture 75 years of life in a brief speech? It’s extremely difficult — especially knowing the dozens of people sitting before you will be hanging on every word you say. They hope, even if you’re just a 17-year-old kid, that you can bring them some form of comfort.

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For the last decade of his life, my Papa suffered from Parkinson’s Disease, a disorder in which the nervous system gradually breaks down over the course of several years. First, he lost the ability to drive. Then, he could hardly walk without falling. Toward the end, he couldn’t even eat. Watching the person I grew up worshipping slowly deteriorate was even more traumatic than his actual death. But when I sat down to write his eulogy, I couldn’t think of what to say. Nothing I could possibly write could make it okay. I eventually realized, though, that I didn’t have to make it okay. I just needed to paint a picture of him as a person and help everyone understand why he was so special. Every Sunday morning when I was a kid, my Papa brought my family a dozen donuts. A well-respected electrician, he had a road named after him in honor of all the work

he’d done in the area. He paid for a uniformed soldier’s hotel room. Once I changed my mindset, I wrote the whole thing in under an hour. As intimidating as the eulogy was at first, writing it ended up being a great experience. My Papa was one of the best people I’d ever known, and by the end of my speech, everyone in the church felt the same way. My Papa’s death left a hole in my life, but a combination of starting college and the passage of time helped close that wound. *** A little more than a year later, though, my Uncle Dan died, and the wound ripped open all over again. Like my Uncle Tanky, my Uncle Dan was not really my uncle — he was a longtime best friend of my parents. He was just 50 when he died. Unlike Uncle Tanky, though, my Uncle Dan didn’t have a larger-than-life personality. He was a bit on the quiet side. What he lacked in extroversion, though, he made up for in wit.

I’m very proud to take after many of my relatives, but, like any family, I have a few with less-than-ideal personalities. My Uncle Dan’s favorite way to irritate me was, naturally, to compare me to those unsavory relatives. One time when I was a young teenager, my mom mentioned that I’d become quite interested in politics. My Uncle Dan’s response was to tell me I’m “just like my grandma.” That may sound sweet, but my grandma is a Trump-supporting Holocaust denier — precisely why he knew that comment would irritate me. Despite his penchant for sarcasm, my Uncle Dan was one of my parents’ best and most consistent friends. When we would host parties, he was always the one person who would offer to help in the kitchen or clean up everyone’s mess. Though my Papa is definitely the person I was closest to out of all my losses, my Uncle Dan’s death is the hardest for me to talk about. He died by suicide, and it shocked me to my core. As someone who has toed the line between major depression and suicidal ideation on many occasions, it’s gut-wrenching to think about a loved one reaching that point.

Even more gut-wrenching was listening to my parents wonder whether they’d been good enough friends to him, or whether there was something they could have done. *** These deaths were the ones that affected me the most, but I’ve lost several other older, more distant family friends and relatives. In all, I’ve been to about 10 funerals. My dad has been a pallbearer 12 times. I don’t talk about all the deaths I’ve experienced to garner sympathy — in fact, few people are aware of how many close loved ones I’ve lost. I talk about them because they’ve had a significant impact on my worldview as I’ve grown up. It was hard for me to resist the anger that crept into my mind as I laid awake late at night. I didn’t deserve to lose that many of my favorite people before I even became a full adult. My dad didn’t deserve to bury his father and five close friends before the age of 50. My mom didn’t deserve the 10 agonizing years she spent watching her dad slowly die. I’m not religious, and it’s pretty rare that I wish I was. The

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period of time following a loss, though, is an exception. Religious people can find solace after losing loved ones in the idea that they’ve gone to Heaven for the rest of eternity. Deaths that seem inexplicable can simply be chalked up to a part of God’s plan. To atheists, though, dead people are just gone, and there’s rarely a comforting explanation. I’ve always had a bit of a pessimistic streak, but it reached its peak during my first two years of college. The combination of the losses I’d recently experienced and the way I struggled with the transition to college made me feel like the universe had a personal vendetta against me. I know — assuming the universe cares at all what happens to me specifically sounds awfully self-important. But when you’re being slapped in the face over and over, it starts to feel personal. *** On May 29, 2018, about four months after my Papa died, I graduated from high school. During the opening ceremony, in addition to the usual

“Pomp and Circumstance,” our school’s band performed the Irish ballad “Danny Boy.” That isn’t a traditional graduation song at all — in fact, it’s played more often at funerals. But it’d always reminded my mom of my Papa, whose name was Danny. She took it as a sign that he was there with me that night. On May 14, 2022, I’ll graduate from Miami. That’s my Uncle Dan’s birthday. I still don’t believe in the afterlife, and I likely never will. However, I have come to believe that those who die are not truly gone as long as you keep their memories alive. That may sound corny, but it’s true. I was only five years old when my Grandpa Jim died, and I still have vivid memories of the short time we spent together. He worked for the Chicago Sun-Times for several years, so I also attribute my unexpected love for journalism to him. My cousins on my mom’s side are all significantly younger than me, and their ages when my Papa died range from five to not yet born. But, because we talk about him so often, even those who never got a chance to meet him know who he was. Learning the power of keeping memories alive has helped me immensely to cope with loss and, ultimately, make peace with the universe. I’ve also come to realize that focusing solely on the people I’ve lost is doing a disservice to the people I still have – those who will always be there for me through every struggle and triumph. Sixteen years after my Grandpa Jim died, I still have yet to figure out death. Frankly, I probably never will. But, experiencing so much death has taught me an important lesson about life: cling tightly to every memory of the people you love. Because someday, when you least expect it, those memories will be all you have left. S

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MENTIONED IN PASSING

aves of fog crash against my windshield. The fog lamps on my car wash the road in an amber hue. I shift into four-wheel drive to make my way back up the thin, unmaintained roads leading away from the Moonville Tunnel. My girlfriend, Valerie, sits next to me, wrapped in a flannel and half asleep. Evelina, one of my closest friends, is completely asleep in the back seat of the car. We’re driving back from Moonville, a haunted tunnel deep in the country and almost four hours away from Oxford.

Any time I see an accident, I think, “That could’ve been me.” Driving on the rough roads back from the tunnel, a coyote rushes onto the road and I slam on the brakes — it just barely makes it out of the way in time. I heave a sigh of relief, then feel a rush of anxiety over what could’ve happened. “That could’ve been the end,” I think. ***

“I doubt the driver survived,” Valerie said as we passed by, referring to a Nissan with an eviscerated front end.

We first arrived at the Moonville Tunnel just as the sun began to set. The roads leading down to it were rough and spiraling, often twisting back and forth down the sides of hills and sometimes breaking through to open plains scattered with rusted-out trucks and unidentifiable chunks of metal.

The engine was sitting comfortably between where the steering wheel and the seats once were — a spot it was likely sharing with the driver.

Most of the paths were made up of loosely-set rocks, and a few of them felt narrow enough that one wrong turn or loose bit of dirt would’ve sent us careening down the edge.

Driving through the night, I’m still haunted by the crash we saw on the way there .

I don’t want to think about it. I remember another time I passed by a car pulled over on my way to Columbus. There was a woman being pulled out on a gurney, completely still. I knew she was dead before I even saw her.

The only thought that echoed through my head was, “That could’ve been me.”

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Coming to the bottom of the final hill, we spotted a small sign outside a large gravel clearing. “MOONVILLE TUNNEL,” it read. It was the only signifier of a long-lost ghost town – one that succumbed entirely to the passing of time. A cursory search online told me some of the various legends

photo-illustrations by Mason Thompson

surrounding the tunnel: the ghosts of children, mechanics, and various others who wandered into the tunnel at the wrong time. Each had some signifier, be it a bright light or soft laughter. Other tales couldn’t be found online. More vague descriptions of strange occurrences that came from friends, only hinting at the supernatural, instead of outright saying it: strange noises, rustling, the feeling of movement behind you — the kinds of things that you could easily attribute to nature but are a lot more fun if you don’t. We parked at the beginning of a path leading to the tunnel, next to a van decked-out in zombie apocalypse-themed graphics. Stickers, including one for the band My Chemical Romance and another for the SCP Foundation — an online creative writing group based around paranormal activity — were haphazardly scattered on the back. It was a strange contrast to my Jeep. Bright blue, sunset graphics with the words “If it ain’t stupid, I ain’t driving it!” on the back. But regardless, a collection of strange, adventure-oriented vehicles was a good sign. Before approaching the tunnel, we walked up to a bridge, a massive slab of metal running over a shallow river. Both sides were blocked off by wire fencing — hopefully only to prevent climbers, whose presence was well-indicated by the graffitied names and phalluses covering the unreachable corners of the support beams. Regardless, my mind flooded with all the more morbid reasons the fence might be there. I looked down and thought I saw bones at the dry parts of the river. I had hoped they were just from a deer. It felt like the bones gazed back up at me. “That could’ve been you.”

In the distance, a hill loomed. It beckoned as we approached, slowly growing to reach up at least twenty feet, tall enough for trains to pass through. All the ghost stories talked about people unlucky enough to be hit by trains back when the tunnel was operational. There weren’t even train tracks left anymore, only layers of graffiti lining the walls, arching just below the highest point I could reach. I guessed that most vandals were of average height. On the outsides of the tunnel, harsh slopes led to the top of the hill. Tall steps were carved into one side. Evelina was the only one willing to brave them. She climbed up, stretching her legs up as far as she could to move between each of the stairs, slowly but not carefully. As she emerged from the top, a grin spread across her face. Even that far up, we could all see it. She danced, flipped us off, and almost lost her balance. I was terrified she might fall, but there would’ve been nothing I could've done to catch her. “That could’ve been it,” I thought as I watched her descend the opposite side of the entrance. As we passed through, our small phone flashlights slowly made their way across the walls of the tunnel, illuminating each spray-painted doodle we walked past. Uncited Wikipedia entries mentioned “a ghostly figure wearing an all white robe, holding a lantern which emits a blinding light” inside the tunnel. At the other end, a bright, circular light came on. I whispered what I remembered of the legend to Valerie and Evelina. My words echoed through the tunnel, lingering in the air well after they’d left my mouth. The light swayed back and forth as it approached us, growing

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brighter. As it passed, a couple covered in tattoos waved at us, flashlight in hand. We were lucky it wasn’t a ghost. When we emerged from the tunnel, the sun sat lower, with specks of hazy orange peeking through the trees along the horizon. The clean path slowly disappeared and was replaced by a light covering of grass, leaves, and other growth. Bridges stretched across larger paths, each running over a stream parallel to the original river. A biker rushed past us into the dark, and we never saw her again. Half an hour down the path, the moon rose above us. The clearings closed in and felt almost suffocating. A cacophony of frogs echoed around us, and we heard them rustling around our feet.

“That could’ve been us,” I thought. As we walked across the bridge a second time, frogs scurried away from us, crawling between the cracks into the underside of the bridge. They saw lights, listened for the shaking ground, and got away. They were safe. To them, we were a train. We were the ghost stories that they heard growing up. The same as my car was to the coyote . Or the same as a truck to a Nissan on the interstate. We all heard stories growing up, cautionary tales warning of what would happen if we weren’t careful, if we made a wrong step, if we lost track of our lives one more time.

As all of this became more apparent, we realized that walking any further would be dangerous, but tracing our path back wasn’t any safer.

And those warnings are everywhere even now, always whispering to us, always reminding us how it could’ve been us, not them.

The wind breathed down our backs, howling, feeling much more powerful than just changing air pressure. We thought footsteps were echoing behind us, but none of us were inclined to look back to confirm. Instead, our own footsteps grew faster.

Now, as I’m driving home, fighting against the fog, I pull over. Valerie’s awake now — more awake than I am. We’re about an hour away from Evelina’s.

As we rushed back through the tunnel, none of us thought to check for oncoming lights from lost spirits or bikers. If a spectral train were to have rushed down the long-buried tracks, we wouldn’t have even noticed the ground shaking beneath us. We would’ve been just as dead as the ghosts living there now.

Of course, it had been over a century since a train last passed through the tunnel. Nonetheless…

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I ask her if she can drive the rest of the way back. “I wouldn’t want it to happen to us,” I think. S

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EXPERIENCE

Corbett Haase

Gender inequality and the education system

ver since I was a little girl, I have had this unshakeable feeling that I am invisible under my gender.

In the sixth grade, I had a teacher who blatantly prefered male students. Despite making an active attempt to participate in her class, she never called on me, except when I was the only one with my hand up. In high school, I felt constantly trampled by the boys in my classes. They were bold, brash, and would frequently shout out the answers. A group of male students in one of my classes always joked around and caused a fuss in the back of the classroom. They would harass other students, say ridiculous things in loud and absurd accents, then cackle like it was the funniest joke they had ever heard. These boys were consistently rude to their female teachers and peers, yet no matter what action (if any) was taken, their behavior never changed. As a result, I was shy in class. I did not want to raise my hand and risk getting an answer wrong for fear of being mocked by the boys in the back of the room. While in class, I would be so focused on whatever nonsense sound would be coming from the back that I would occasionally lose track of the lecture.

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Through the years, I have felt ignored in the classroom, and that other women in all levels of academia are being silenced by the gender norms of our culture. *** A 2020 study entitled “Who Speaks and Who Listens” was conducted to look at the disposition of men and women in a college classroom. In their study, Jennifer Jiwon Lee, a current doctoral student in sociology at Indiana University Bloomington , and Janice McCabe, an associate professor of sociology at Dartmouth, noticed differences in the tone of students of different genders. Men are consistently bolder, while women are “hesitant and apologetic.” Lee and McCabe also argued that female students frequently find themselves in a conundrum. They are expected to contribute meaningfully to class discussions, but they are overpowered by their concern of being “stigmatized for transgressions of gendered expectations, such as engaging in firm and assertive language.” Dr. Kimberly Hamlin, a professor at Miami specializing in history, gender and sexuality, noted that this phenomenon has roots in the socialization of children.

“The way girls and boys are socialized in K-12, to achieve, to be rule followers, to behave or to misbehave has a big part of it,” Hamlin said.

When some students confronted their teachers about the sexism embedded in the film, McNamara said they were silenced.

Lee and McCabe found a similar pattern among college students, describing the tendency of men to break the rules, specifically speaking out of turn. In the study, it was discovered that male students speak without raising their hand and interrupt others more often than their female counterparts.

“Some of us spoke up and asked why only the girls were watching this, but they shut us up and told us all of these girl stereotypes about how we bad-mouth people and care too much about how we look and act,” McNamara said.

“...men’s assertive, high-status behaviors and women’s deferential, lower status behaviors in classrooms lead to contrasting performance expectations, which further reinforce existing gender status and limit women’s opportunities to contribute to classroom conversations,” Lee and McCabe said. ***

For junior psychology and art therapy double major Jackie Michaud, attending an all-girls high school, and then coming to Miami, highlights exact findings from Lee and McCabe’s study. “The boys speak up more in class [at Miami], with a confidence that seems, to me, to take away from the confidence of those around them,” Michaud said. “I notice that I speak less in class...than I did in high school.”

Megan McNamara, a junior interior design major, recalled an experience in high school that placed her womanhood in direct conflict with her ability to succeed as a student.

When speaking in her classes at Miami, Michaud said her gender has become a much more active part of her classroom experience.

One day, McNamara was told by teachers that boys and girls would be given (separate) presentations. While the boys watched a 15-minute video and were then dismissed to play basketball, the female students were shown a film about the “evil” behaviors of women, such as gossiping and bringing other girls down.

“Suddenly, when surrounded by men in college, answering a question almost feels like a performance,” Michaud said. “Not only am I answering a question, I am a woman answering a question.”

photo-illustrations by Macey Chamberlain

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McNamara has found the same feeling of looming doubt in the classroom, specifically coming from male peers. “Being an interior design major who is a girl is hard sometimes in group projects with male architecture majors,” McNamara said. “They assume I know nothing and treat me like I’m an idiot.” *** In my college experience, I have discovered these gendered instances occurring almost on a daily basis. I have had several instances in my classes where I was in a group discussion and made a point that was brushed off, only to be praised when repeated by a male classmate. I noticed a distinct patriarchal aura in the singular physics class I took, specifically when my male teaching assistant hovered over my shoulder while I worked on problems, and male students approached me to ask if I needed any help understanding a concept. I felt crippled by the masculine presence looming over me. Instead of just allowing me to become educated, it was like the system was simultaneously drowning me while, in some way, still attempting to resuscitate me. Now, the question becomes: how am I, as a college-educated woman, supposed to overcome this? That answer might not come anytime soon. Major changes need to happen not only within the classroom setting, but also outside of it. And all parties need to be involved, from administration to teachers to parents to male students. Until then, we don’t have to accept the inequality, only let others know it exists so it does not last forever. S

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it was like this system was simultaneously drowning me... ...while, in some way, still attempting to resuscitate me.

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PROFILE

JACK SCHMELZINGER

KEEPING IT

COOL EQUIPMENT MANAGER HOLDS MIAMI HOCKEY TOGETHER

iami hockey is less than three hours away from leaving for Big Rapids, Michigan, to face off against Ferris State in its first series of the year.

Andy Geshan, Miami hockey’s longtime equipment manager, is the picture of serenity. Self-assured and always calm, Andy gives off the vibe of someone who rarely makes mistakes. Whether it’s the product of preparation, experience, confidence or a mix of the three: he is usually right. “I’d say we’re about 90% packed,” he says, sipping coffee and surveying his domain. A pile of luggage has invaded the floor space next to the back door. Cases of water and Gatorade along with a box of snacks stand out amid the heap of bags and boxes. Two black sacks – each about the size of a large adult man – are waiting to be stuffed with hockey sticks. A wooden behemoth of a box, painted RedHawk scarlet, houses a “portable” skate sharpener. He starts back down the memorabilia-littered hallway, past a large weight room and toward his office. The hockey team’s facility is housed under Cady Arena. They have a locker room and a players’ lounge, plus a huge shower area with a steam room and ample space for storage all around.

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Photos litter the walls back in Andy’s large office. His kids are well-represented. He has a lot of friends. There’s stuff everywhere: more memorabilia, clothing on hangers, boxes filled with nuts and bolts and more drawers than any person should need. Straight ahead is a window into the locker room. A few pairs of freshly sharpened skates rest on the ledge. “Do you want to see something cool?” he asks, beckoning toward another door. The equipment room is massive, too. More drawers, these ones housing apparel, line the left side of the room. To the right, hundreds of sticks rest in boxes. Sixty jerseys, 30 white and 30 red, lay on hangers in the back. “What size shirt do you wear?” Andy asks. Then, back to his office. In about 20 minutes, Head Coach Chris Bergeron will address his team. After that, they’ll take the ice for practice. In the meantime, Andy will continue to prepare. *** Since 1995, Andy has been the equipment manager of Miami’s hockey team. He first became interested in hockey by going to Cincinnati Stingers games in the shortlived World Hockey Association with his dad.

photo-illustrations by Mason Thompson & Kate DeJesus

SELF-ASSURED AND ALWAYS CALM, ANDY GIVES OFF THE VIBE OF SOMEONE WHO RARELY MAKES MISTAKES. He started working with Miami hockey even earlier than 1995. One day as a student, Andy walked into the rink and asked if there were any jobs available. He got hired as a student equipment manager and hasn’t looked back since. After graduating from Miami with a degree in applied science, Andy quickly found work in sports administration. He spent two years directing intramural athletics at New England College, where he met his wife. After that, he put in two more years at Norwich University, where he got his Master’s of Education while working in residence life. Then, he got the call he’d been waiting for: Salisbury University on the eastern shore of Maryland needed an equipment manager. He spent two years there before moving on to SUNY Brockport in the same role. While at Brockport, he was contacted by Steve Cady, Miami’s athletic director at the time. His alma mater needed an equipment manager. Andy didn’t accept the job the first time. He had only been at Brockport for a couple of years, and things were going well. But on the second try, Cady convinced him. Since then, he’s been a fixture of Miami hockey. Through three head coaches, a conference change, spectacular highs and heartbreaking lows, Andy has been there, running the equipment room. All this to say: Andy’s calm attitude is a product of experi-

ence, not boredom or a lack of work. He’s been running ragged for days. And he still has a lot to do. His job includes many responsibilities: he orders and distributes equipment; he keeps it laundered and makes repairs when needed; he sharpens skates and sews. He also handles the same work for Miami’s synchronized skating team. During tense times, he even provides the comedic relief for a stressed-out coaching staff. “He was always somebody that would have the one liner and make you laugh,” said Enrico Blasi, former Miami hockey head coach and a close friend of Andy’s. As the start of practice approaches, the locker room begins to crowd in anticipation of Bergeron’s speech. “Hey, Gesh!” come the cheerful calls of players and coaches. Andy’s office is a hub of activity. Some guys stop by because they need something. An extra stick for the weekend or a larger pair of pants. Some just come to say hello. “Would you remind your teammates to drop their practice jerseys in their bags when you get off the ice?” he asks one player who ventures into the equipment room. “You got it, Gesh,” comes the response, along with an earnest smile and a nod. Through the years, Andy has built a lot of strong relationships. Sean Kuraly, now a member of the Columbus Blue

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

ONE DAY AS A STUDENT, ANDY WALKED INTO THE RINK AND ASKED IF THERE WERE ANY JOBS AVAILABLE.

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

HE GOT HIRED AS A STUDENT EQUIPMENT MANAGER AND HASN’T LOOKED BACK SINCE. THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

Jackets, used to stop into his office nearly every day, just to talk for a few minutes. The two still keep in touch. “I try not to bug him too often,” Andy says. Andy’s friend Blasi, now coaching hockey at St. Thomas University, appreciates the relationship they have. Their kids grew up together, always hanging around the rink. Blasi is the godfather of Andy’s firstborn son. “We could talk about not just what was going on at work, but about family as well.” Blasi said. “I really cherish that relationship I have with him.” Just before the team takes the ice for practice, he texts Andy Greene, another former player now with the New York Islanders. Andy, a Boston Red Sox fan, bids Greene (a not totally sincere) congratulations on a big Yankees win the previous night. *** After Coach Bergeron speaks and the team starts practice, Andy goes back to work. He has to pack the extra sticks — a pair of back-up twigs for each player making the trip, split up between bags to double the chance that at least one arrives at its destination (especially on plane trips). Packing up the sticks is a process. First, Bauer — the company whose sticks Miami players use — still hasn’t shipped product that was ordered in the summer. Supply chain issues caused by COVID-19 have been a nightmare for Andy.

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

In addition, Andy must now use a digital inventory system to keep track of each piece of equipment he uses. An accounting error, unrelated to him, caused Miami to rethink its operating procedures. As he takes new sticks out, they have to be logged into a system on a computer. It’s a complicated program with small print and information strewn across the screen. And computers aren’t exactly Andy’s strong suit. “Do you use Apple?” he asks. “I’m trying to minimize the screen here.” A few clicks later, he’s back to work. Next, he disappears into an undoubtedly familiar corner of the equipment room and reemerges with the team’s equipment bags. Those need to be packed. He hopes to do some laundry, too. Otherwise, it would be tasked to the Ferris State equipment team upon the RedHawks’ arrival in Big Rapids, Michigan. “It saves the other guys the hassle,” he says. Then, it’s onto the locker room’s white board to write down a list of things for the players to pack. It’s four items. He shakes his head as he writes, almost as if imagining the impending screw-ups. About an hour later, practice ends. Andy goes to work collecting jerseys and joking with players. At times like this, it’s easy to tell that Andy loves the players, but sometimes they mystify him.

Just this week, he put a notice on the white board. All 10 of the team’s first-year players were to see him about winter jacket sizing. Only four showed up. He remains skeptical about the chances his four-item list will be followed. Years ago, the team’s starting goalie left Oxford for Columbus — a date with Ohio State — without his leg pads. When they realized the pads were missing, they called an assistant who hadn’t made the trip. Eventually the pads were brought to the goalie, who took the ice for the last couple of minutes of warmups, and ended up playing the game. A happy ending, but the forgetfulness still stuck with Andy. He told a story about players asking him if they have their equipment, or “gitch,” as they like to call it. “Why would I want your stuff?” Andy says laughing, still incredulous at the memory. “They call it gitch. That’s like nails on a chalkboard.” *** With the clock quickly approaching the team’s time of departure, Andy is starting to think about the bus trip. Yesterday, he was out late at his son’s soccer game, so he plans to catch up on some sleep. “I’m just looking forward to a few hours of quiet,” Andy says. He downloaded a documentary on Amazon Prime, All or Nothing: Toronto Maple Leafs. Without a doubt, time will also be spent shooting the shit with his colleagues. Andy has the road trip down to a science. He brings his own coffee and breakfast. Coffee makes the trip because he’s a self-proclaimed “coffee snob.” He doesn’t want to be caught drinking swill on the road. Breakfast — some supplies for oatmeal — comes along for a more practical reason. “I almost never eat breakfast with the team,” he says. “Usually, I’m at the rink hours before they eat.” He has to get there early to set up his sharpening stations and a stickhandling area. He’ll unpack towels and jerseys and make sure he’s stocked up with tape. He ensures that everything is in its place. With Andy running the equipment room, rest assured, everything will be. S

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

CAMPUS

Fighting Their Reflection

The reality of student body image at Miami University

Skyler Perry

lone in the room of her college apartment, MariClaire Warnock cried.

Her friends waited in the living room, drinking and socializing as she frantically tore apart her closet in search of something to wear. Tears dripped down Warnock’s freckled face as she discarded outfit after outfit, deeming one after another unwearable. After struggling for 20 minutes, Warnock joined her friends and explained the delay. In an attempt to comfort her, they told her that she should feel confident — she was the skinniest of the group. “Yeah, let me just tell myself that in the mirror,” Warnock said. Despite her friends’ words, Warnock knew that her problem ran deeper than this isolated incident. *** Of the approximately 19 million college students in the United States, around one in three are dissatisfied with their weight or body shape. At Miami University, which is home to approximately 17,000 undergraduates, many students suffer from negative body image and its effects. According to the National Eating Disorder Association, body image can include what someone believes their appearance to

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

be, how someone feels about their shape or weight, or how one physically feels in their own skin. Nichole Carr is a mental health psychotherapist at Miami’s Student Counseling Service (SCS). Carr said that things like ethnicity, body type and gender all play a role in the perception of a student’s body image. Although negative body image can affect people of all ages, Carr believes college students are particularly conscious of, and affected by, their appearance. “I think [college is] just a really unique time of life when we’re all feeling really vulnerable about a lot of things, and our bodies are like the thing we put on to the world,” Carr said. On top of the typical pressures most college students face upon arriving at college, Miami students may be grappling with something more when it comes to the fight for positive body image. The Miami image — the idea that there is a stereotypical way most students who attend Miami look, dress and act — is not a secret around campus. Although everyone’s description of the Miami image is different, many would agree that it suggests someone who is white, aﬄuent, slender and beautiful. While some students believe that the Miami image is just a stereotype, others said that it has impacted them and the way they feel about themselves.

illustrations by Annie Jacquemin

*** Sophomore diplomacy and global politics, German, and comparative religion triple major Annalise Chapdelaine is unsure if the Miami image is completely true, but she does believe that some aspect of it exists on campus. Chapdelaine suffers from negative body image and has made changes to her appearance in order to better fit the mold. When it comes to the Miami image, Chapdelaine doesn’t believe she fits it. “Sometimes I’ll copy what people are wearing, like the white shoes [trend],” Chapdelaine said. “I knew people were going to be wearing [them] and I didn’t have any and I was like, ‘Okay, this will help me look like a Miami student.’” Even before coming to Miami, Chapdelaine struggled with her body image. She has suffered from multiple eating disorders, including anorexia and orthorexia, and still considers herself to be in recovery. According to the National Eating Disorder Association, orthorexia is defined as an obsession with eating healthy and proper food. One thing that has helped Chapdelaine in her recovery is social media, but only after she took control of what she was seeing. Initially, Chapdelaine said that most of the content she consumed had to do with nutrition, which made her constantly feel bad about what she was eating. After realizing the negative impact this content was having on her, Chapdelaine discovered multiple accounts on Instagram that were dedicated to helping those in eating disorder recovery, inspiring her to stop her unhealthy habits. “I saw a therapist short-term, [but] she couldn’t see me in Ohio, so I’ve done most of it by myself by learning a lot about body image and eating disorder recovery and getting mad at society,” Chapdelaine said.

In addition to eating disorders, some students say they suffer from body dysmorphia. For Warnock, it’s what sparked her spell of outfit hate. According to the Cleveland Clinic, body dysmorphia is a disorder related to obsessive-compulsive disorders that can cause people to do things like look in the mirror all the time or pick at their skin. Approximately one in 50 people in the United States suffer from this obsessive condition. MariClaire Warnock’s body dysmorphia is caused by her high attentiveness to her body. Any time the junior human capital management and entrepreneurship double major passes a window, she takes a moment to analyze areas that she feels insecure about. It also affects her relationship with clothing. “It takes me forever to get ready for class in the morning, mainly because I like to look nice, but also because I never feel comfortable in what I’m wearing,” Warnock said. When she first came to college, her body image worsened after constantly comparing herself to her peers. She remembers her freshman year, when she had to walk down a dorm hallway where other girls were hanging out and felt very self-conscious. “I get really nervous to wear what I want because I get stressed that girls are going to be like, ‘That is the ugliest thing you could ever wear,’” Warnock said. Junior strategic communications and American studies double major, Megan Miske, said that when it comes to her body image, the health of her relationship with her body depends on the day.

***

“It’s very up and down like a roller coaster sometimes,” Miske said. “I guess [college has] made it kind of worse, but I feel like everyone’s in the same boat.”

At Miami, Carr predominantly works with eating disorder clients, and believes that they are very common on campus. Although Miami offers online screening for eating disorders and other mental health issues, they may be underreported.

When she was younger, Miske struggled with bulimia and anorexia, which have impacted the way she sees her body. Seeing other women around campus, hearing what guys have to say about her, and social media have also been damaging.

“I think there’s probably a lot of people struggling on campus that don’t seek treatment or that maybe aren’t sharing with friends and family that they’re struggling,” Carr said.

“I’m always thinking, ‘What does this person think of me? Am I looking okay today? What if there’s something off about me?’” Miske said.

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...I didn’t really like how the body positivity movement was more geared towards how desirable you are.... For some, body image is made even more complicated by race. Sydney Hill is a recent graduate of Miami University who said that it is difficult for her to separate her race from the way she sees her body. Hill says that for most of her life, living in Medina, Ohio, that’s the first thing people would notice about her appearance. “They would see my race before anything, which isn’t inherently a bad thing because it is a part of who I am, and you can’t divorce the two,” Hill said. “But at the same time, [people] would just make assumptions about me based on how I look.” When it comes to her body image, Hill said she has an overall negative perception of her body. “Personally, I am not a huge fan of the way that I look, just because I think that as a child in a mostly white area, I often felt that I was very undesirable,” Hill said. During Hill’s time in college, however, she said that her mentality about her body image changed. In the Spring 2021 publication of The Miami Student Magazine, Hill wrote about her relationship with her body, including her current mentality. “I’m kind of at the point in my life where I don’t really care about how I look so much,” Hill said. “I didn’t really like how the body positivity movement was more geared towards how desirable you are, opposed to how I am just as worthy of respect as anyone else.” While many women struggle with their body image, men are

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

also affected by it. Brennen McGill, a junior marketing major, said that when he first came to campus he experienced difficulty with his body image. In high school, McGill said he danced six days a week and ate whatever he wanted. When his routine changed during his freshman year, he still ate what he wanted, but worked out less, and thus, gained weight. He was also comparing himself to other men and how much they worked out, but has since made an effort to not be so hard on himself. “I’ve grown a lot with it in the past year, and it’s gotten a lot better,” McGill said. “I definitely still have my moments, [but] I think everyone does.” At Miami, McGill believes that male body image is not talked about as often as female body image, due to the way men are raised and socialized through their family, the media, and their peers. “We can’t really have insecurities or talk about stuff like that,” McGill said. “A lot of guys just don’t feel comfortable talking about their body or their body image.” One study suggests that the lack of discussion about men’s body image can be partially attributed to gender norms that discourage men from talking about their body image and self-esteem. Although McGill believes it’s hard to tell exactly who feels insecure about their body image, he has noticed the lack of

conversation about eating disorders in men. “I feel like anyone you walk up to and say, ‘Picture someone with an eating disorder,’ they’re gonna tell you it’s a woman,” McGill said. “It’s not something you see in TV shows or movies.” According to U.S. News, approximately 10 million men have struggled with an eating disorder in their life, but experts believe that this number may be underreported due to the lack of open discussion about the problem. When it comes to Miami’s efforts to engage its students in conversation about the Miami image and body image, the school’s attempts have been varied but limited. One effort that SCS has made is establishing a website with information and a link to attend or request a workshop from an outside organization called The Body Project. The Body Project, a two-hour training program that maintains the goal of creating a healthier and more body-positive campus, is only designed for college-age women. While The Body Project runs a group called More than Muscles that is designed for men and conducted at other universities, Miami isn’t currently running the program. Carr said there are hopes to do so in the future.

The school has also offered occasional workshops like “Body Image and Your ‘Summer Body:’ Love the Skin You’re In”, which was last held in May of 2020. Other resources and information include Miami’s discussion of self-esteem and the Miami image, which provide an analysis of the Miami image and data from 1999, the most recent time this issue was studied. Despite these efforts, students seem to be looking for more from Miami — more resources, more information and more effort — whether big or small. Fortunately, students have some ideas. Chapdelaine believes providing information about body image at Miami’s mandatory first-year orientation or from resident assistants could improve the problem. McGill said that something as simple as signs in Armstrong Student Center encouraging students to consume a sufficient and healthy amount of calories and providing helpful messages about food would be a step in the right direction. In addition, SCS holds a weekly therapy group for people who want to talk about body image and self-esteem. Carr said Miami’s Student Wellness department is working on providing information on dorm bulletin boards that promote information about disordered eating and body image.S

The Miam

— the idea t way most st look, dress a

...is not a secret around campus.

mi image...

that there is a stereotypical tudents who attend Miami and act —

POETRY

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

Henri Robbins When I was younger, I thought of death. I saw the Grand Canyon and thought of myself tumbling down the side, but it never happened. Now, I meet with my therapist Online and I don’t go outside much. and I tell her …………………………………. ……………………………….... But I always lie on the surveys because nobody who reads them really cares about my life. And she tells me she agrees ‘Nobody is honest with them’ and I ask if what I feel is normal. She says she’d be the last person to know because she’s in the same boat drifting in the same ocean. But I’ve never been in a boat. All I feel inside of me is the vast canyon I want so desperately to tumble down. But I keep walking along the edge because if I did fall I would never again see

the beauty from above.

photo-illustrations by Mason Thompson

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

EXPERIENCE

Grace Killian

The Question of Commitment Navigating relationships as a senior

oft music plays as Kate Reidy and Griffin Lester move throughout the kitchen, making their stir-fry dinner. Lester preps all of the vegetables while Reidy stands nearby, talking about her day.

Once everything is cut up and ready, she begins to cook the vegetables and make a sauce for the dinner. When everything is almost ready, Lester grabs bowls and utensils and sets the table. A senior undergraduate student has plenty to worry about – finding a job after college, staying on top of their school work, capstone courses and deciding what direction they want their future to take. On top of all that, they have to juggle friendships and relationships, while understanding their time left at Miami is limited. This pressure is especially taxing for students who are in relationships. Not only do they have to decide what they want their future to look like, they have to factor another person into that decision. Seniors Reidy, an urban and regional planning major, and Lester, an information systems and analytics major, have been dating since the spring of their freshman year. In the two and a half years they’ve been together, they’ve been able to see each other progress through college.

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“It's definitely been cool to watch both of us grow into the more adult versions of ourselves,” Reidy said. In addition, they have been able to help each other grow both within their relationships and as individuals. Reidy has found this has helped her grow more confident, especially in her communication skills. “We're always open and there for each other,” Reidy said. “It's been much easier to be honest and communicate and that's made everything much better in all aspects of life, because I'm better with everyone about that now.” Reidy and Lester have been living together with their two other roommates since their junior year of college. Sharing a space as a couple means they are able to spend time together and continue building their relationship. Even when they are both busy, they can do work in a shared space or unwind after a long day together. The little things, like making dinner or sharing a study room to do homework, are important in their relationship. Many couples decide not to live together in college because they want to experience living with their friends or are worried about the possibility of breaking up. That was not a concern, Lester said, because they knew they could still take things slow in their relationship until they had to move in.

illustrations by Annie Jacquemin

“It was an easy decision,” Lester said. “It worked out, you know, I've had some of the best years of my life these past couple years living with my friends and with Kate.” By understanding their compatibility in college, their decision to want to continue living together after graduation has been shaped. And Reidy believes their living style is completely compatible. She feels that as long as they are able to continue openly communicating with one another, they will be able to live together with no problems in the future. But living together post-graduation isn’t an option for all senior couples. For some, long distance is a reality they have to face. Caroline Buchheit, a senior kinesiology major, has also been dating her boyfriend for over two years. Although Buchheit wasn’t looking for anything serious when they were introduced by a mutual friend here at Miami their freshman year, she quickly found herself changing her mind. “I spent a lot of my freshman year being [introspective] a little bit and figuring all of that out,” Buchheit said. “We started dating immediately, head over heels madly in love. It was like a movie.”

As time has passed, Buchheit has also found she has been able to grow in her relationship with her boyfriend. They have been able to watch each other grow as individuals, which has helped strengthen their connection. The couple understands what they face when looking at life after graduation. Buchheit has to continue her education at physical therapy school, and her boyfriend has to find a job, meaning they may end up in different places. It’s important to Buchheit that they are intentional about their future, especially as they each decide on what city they want to live in post-grad. Since the couple typically spends summer break apart from one another, they know that long distance is something they will be able to do. “We are just in our early twenties, you know, we have so much life to live and so much to figure out,” Buchheit said. “We are not in a rush to make sure that we're in the same place and [we know] that we do long distance very well.” And it’s especially important for them to take advantage of their time together now. For Buchheit, quality time is the best way for the couple to be able to do that. Even on busy days, they take walks at night to catch up and spend time with one another.

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

We are just in our early twenties, you know... But, dating during senior year isn't practical for everyone. Some students think it’s pointless to spend time falling in love when they know they’re leaving in such a short amount of time. Sophie Hess, a political science and Spanish double major, has secured a job in Washington, D.C. after graduation. She knows she’ll be living there for at least five years, if not longer. “It would be really challenging to start something with someone and develop a relationship… just to leave,” Hess said. “[You] either have to do long distance, or you'd have to break up or maybe they'd go in the same place as you, but you really never know.” With such a short amount of time left in Oxford, Hess has found it more important to focus on school and her friends, rather than developing new romantic relationships. “To start [dating] your senior year, especially knowing you only have a limited amount of time left, it would be really hard to try to get to know someone in that amount of time,” Hess said. And yet, for some seniors, dating during this time of their lives just seems to make sense. As Reidy serves the stir-fry, she sits down across from Lester, and together they begin their meal. Even though they make dinner together almost every night, it’s clear that it hasn’t lost any meaning to either of them. The two talk casually and begin working on homework side by side, happy enough to just be in the same room as one another. S

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

...we have so much life to live and so much to ﬁgure out...

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

LOOKING FORWARD

Jake Ruffer

Miami Mergers then and now

walk with my hands stuffed in my pockets, looking through my foggy breath to take in the autumnal oranges against the red bricks.

People bundle against the cold, conversing and traversing the quad on their way to class, or to eat or do some other college thing. The trees are mostly bare in Oxford by November of 2019, but some leaves still tumble gently to the ground as our tour guide brings us to a stop in a small gathering around the seal. She warns us to avoid stepping on it, and advises us to go rub the turtles to the southeast if we do. Then she turns and points to her right.

It’s not the most surprising thing to learn about their past. My dad claims he ran to stomp on the seal after his last exam, and in the years after graduating, my parents moved progressively farther and farther away from Oxford, stopping only when they made it all the way out to Portland, Oregon. Still, my parents love Miami. They wear Miami t-shirts, drink out of Miami cups, and keep in touch with a lot of good friends they met here. As for kissing under the arch, I think their Miami experience alone made happily ever after easy enough. ***

“That building is Upham Hall,” she says. She lowers her hand to a hollow space perforating the building. “If you kiss your true love at midnight under the Upham Arch, you’ll live happily ever after together.”

A Miami Merger is the name for the simple, yet strangely prevalent, occurrence of two former RedHawks getting married to one another. Currently, around 14% of Miami alumni are Mergers. That’s 14,343 couples, and twice as many people.

That’s news to me. I turn to my mom to ask, “When did you and dad kiss under the arch?”

As marriage goes, many Mergers had children, and quite a few of those Merger babies have found their way back to Oxford to live in the same dorms, sit in the same classrooms and walk the same streets as their parents. My parents went on their first date at Skipper’s Pub in 1994,

She smiles, remembering. “I don’t think we ever did that.” I laugh. She flew over 2,000 miles with me for a college

visit at their alma mater, the place they met (and the reason, I suppose, that I exist), and my parents never even kissed under Upham Arch at midnight?

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

photo-illustrations by Mason Thompson

They were married in 1997 after years of knowing each other. They ate sandwiches and shared a basket of waﬄe fries with cheese sauce.

second year. When they all took her to dinner at the start of the semester, they didn’t let the sophomore Klebe ignore it.

Their persevering connection to Miami was strong enough for me to check it out online, then apply, and visit, and visit again, then commit to flying over 2,000 miles at the beginning and end of every semester.

“I was like, ‘You can all shut up right now,’” Klebe said, laughing.

And now, I can’t imagine myself anywhere else. I’ve found hobbies, joined student organizations, and it seems like I’m on track to graduate. I’ve met friends — and my girlfriend, Megan. Yes, it’s going pretty well, thank you. We both like coffee quite a bit; that ended up being a good place to start. But I’m only 20 years old. She’s 19. “Merging” isn’t really on our radar. But who’s to say whether coffee will be our waﬄe fries? Marriage in the U.S. is on the decline, and people are pushing it later into their lives — long past their college years. The national trend, and the modern mechanics of dating, could affect Miami’s Merger statistics. Senior Andy Riggs doesn’t think the outlook is too good. “I think our generation is a little different,” Riggs said. “Social norm-wise, I don’t think our generation is going to get married until 28ish, 30ish.” His parents met at Miami, and so did his dad’s parents, but that isn’t pushing him to follow the same path. He said he’s not living in the same climate for marriage that his parents were when they attended. “My parents, they got married … like a year after they graduated,” Riggs said. “For me, I’m graduating in May. If I [get] married when they did, it [would] be a year from June.” That sounds too soon to Riggs. The only pressure comes from the teasing; Riggs met his current girlfriend at the same time his parents met each other: second semester of junior year. That draws a suggestive comment every once in a while. Grace Klebe knows what the teasing is like. She does Riggs one better on the family line: her parents, grandparents, and also an aunt and uncle are all Mergers. Even freakier, they all met their spouses during the first half of their

For Klebe, whose parents hang a “Miami Merger” sign in their living room and kissed under the arch, the Merger branding doesn’t push her to find someone to get hitched to. “It’s more of a joke,” she said. “When one of my friends meets a guy, we’ll say, like, ‘I’m gonna take him to Upham.’” The discussion of Mergers provides a subject of entertainment rather than encouragement for future planning. *** And there’s something else threatening the Merger brand: long-distance relationships. Josh Elkowitz’s parents met playing volleyball on a beach in Florida, then returned from spring break to Miami, where their relationship would grow into a Merger. Elkowitz first went out with his girlfriend at a high school dance in Vienna, Virginia, from whence they split to schools more than 500 miles apart. They’ve kept their flame alive mostly through FaceTime, and the sophomore Elkowitz has visited her at Syracuse a few times, and hosted a visit himself. FaceTime is only one of a plethora of social media apps that can keep couples connected across space. It’s technology like this that’s made long-distance relationships more common, and maybe more achievable, but it’s still not the same as being together. Maybe that’s why Riggs doesn’t think the Merger future is too bright. But my parents did the long-distance thing, too. My dad graduated and moved to Chicago a month after they began dating. They stuck it out through a year between Chicago and Oxford, while my mom was still at Miami, then Chicago and Madison, Wisconsin, when my mom began work on her master’s degree. They took turns driving three hours to spend weekends together. They were married in 1997 and spent 19 years raising another RedHawk. I think that’s what our tour guide had in mind when she said “happily ever after.” S

and spent 19 years raising another RedHawk. THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

PERSONAL HISTORY

Claire Lordan

y best friends dropped me off at home from what would become our last day of high school on March 18, 2020. Right before the final bell rang, our principal had gone over the intercom and announced that Governor Mike DeWine was sending Ohio students home for three weeks. We couldn’t believe our good luck – three weeks of spring break. At that point, we had all committed to a college for the fall and senioritis was hitting hard. I was the first dropped off at home after our weekly McDonald’s run, and I cheerfully told my friends that I would see them on Monday … three weeks from then. Of the four other people in that car, it was the last time I saw three of them in person. By July, the cabin fever reached an all-time peak. You can only go on so many family walks and rewatch the Harry Potter movies so many times before you feel like you’re about to snap. I had set my sights on the upcoming fall semester. I would refuse to listen when people tried to tell me that I’d be lucky to go to school at all, let alone have any in-person events. I was making dinner with my mom when a text from my future roommate popped up on my phone: “Housing assignments are out! We’re in Peabody Hall.”

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

I looked up at my mom. “Peabody Hall? I don’t think I remember that one.” Before she could answer, my older brother, who was about to be a senior at Miami, chimed in. “Shit, they’re putting you in Peabody?” He scoffed. “That sucks.” My heart sank. All my hopes that the fall semester would save what had become the worst school year imaginable came crashing down. First, the school musical I had spent three months tirelessly designing the costumes, hair and makeup for was cancelled. Then, my prom dress was returned to the mall in the shiny plastic the sales assistant had wrapped it in, tags still clipped to the sleeve. By the time graduation was called off, I couldn’t even muster up surprise. My excitement for move-in weekend turned to dread. No amount of research made me feel better. My twin brother, who had been placed in Hepburn Hall, would be a 25-minute walk away. King Library, a 20-minute walk. And no spot uptown would take less than a 30-minute commute. And on top of all that, the building was haunted. I’d be bunking with a damn ghost.

photo-illustrations by Macey Chamberlain

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

Just a week out from move-in, my roommate and I found out we’d both been placed in rooms by ourselves, due to the amount of students that had chosen to stay home. She was the one friend I’d have waiting for me at school, and now we’d be alone. In Peabody. “I can’t believe it,” I texted her. “At least we’ll be down the hall from each other :(,” she replied. Finally, move-in day came. My mom went to find parking while my dad and I began carrying my things up the two flights of stairs to my dorm room because, of course, the elevator wasn’t working. When we came out of the stairwell, my dad laughed. I groaned. “Guess they were inspired by ‘The Shining,’” my dad said. The resemblance was uncanny to the movie. The pale, flickering fluorescent lights, the geometric-patterned carpet, the strange, peach-pink walls. My parents tried to be encouraging as they helped me unpack my things. I’m a pretty optimistic person, but the ‘glass half-empty’ metaphor felt shockingly applicable to my halfbare dorm room. When they finally went to leave, my mom wrapped me in a hug. “Try to make the best of it,” she whispered in my ear. I stood outside the building and watched their car drive off. When I finally made it back to my room, a thrill of panic jumped through me. For the first time in my life, I felt completely and truly alone. In all fairness, I really did try to take my mother’s advice. I spent that first week with my door propped open, waiting for passersby to waltz in and become the best friends that would someday be my bridesmaids, like I’d always been promised. I went to the (Zoom) welcome events hosted by our resident director. For about a week, it seemed like Peabody Hall might not be so bad.

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021

For the first time in my life, I felt completely and truly alone. And then that week ended. Life quickly fell into a pattern. Wake up, go to class on Zoom, get lunch from Western Dining Hall, eat in the room, go to Zoom class again, bring dining hall food back to the dorm again and watch “Friends” for the thousandth time before falling asleep. There were days – yes, days consecutively – where I did not speak to a single person. That isn’t to say the silence was all bad. I learned a lot about myself, and existing on my own. I learned just how long you can wait to do laundry before you run out of clean underwear, and the best spots in the dining hall to sit and do homework. But you can only exist so long in complete, oppressive silence before you wonder if, when you do finally speak, anyone will bother to listen. I’m not vain enough to assume Peabody Hall was the root of my isolation. First-years all across campus reported feeling increased isolation due to the pandemic. But some contributing factors to my loneliness were distinctly Peabody-based. When residents in other dorms would pile into their floor’s common area for movie nights or baking cookies, we had Zoom trivia nights (one of the “perks” of living in an almost 200-year-old dorm: no common areas.)

The few friends I was able to make through Zoom classes typically lived 25-minutes across campus and refused to walk all the way over to Peabody, leaving me with a choice: risk walking alone at night, or bail. More often than not, the answer was to call a rain check. I can’t speak to the experiences of living in Peabody during a non-pandemic year. Maybe it’s the hot spot on campus most years. Probably not, though. The moldy showers and consistent bug infestations in the dorm rooms make that a moot point. So, Miami, here are my closing arguments in the case against Peabody Hall; maybe it wasn’t a good idea to put first-year students alone, in the most isolated dorm on campus, during a pandemic that restricted most in-person social gatherings. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. In spite of the isolation and the loneliness and the mildew in the hallways, there were friends to be made in Peabody. But more importantly, there were friends to be made outside of it. S

THE MIAMI STUDENT MAGAZINE, FALL 2021