In a niche coffee shop in v ienna

Kate Casper outsider Instincts

In a niche coffee shop in v ienna, I fit right in, wearing my favorite sweatshirt with the watercolor fish and some orange converse sneakers, the ones owned by every selfproclaimed “Indie Kid” I’d ever met. I plugged my half-alive phone into the wall, sipped on a honey lavender latte and began politely eavesdropping on the two 20-somethings to my left, c .P. and e ric (or something like that).

They were seated at some bar stools along a wall happily adorned with vibrant records of b ob m arley and Joan Jett and c ulture c lub and Traffic. They were wearing outfits that oozed with post-legal-drinkingage angst — c .P. in an oversized sweatshirt and some dad sneakers and e ric in a green Yankees hat and vintage bomber jacket. They looked cool, sure of themselves, but also humble as a box of crayons (because crayons can be humble, can’t they?).

They looked like the type of kids who rode bikes around the neighborhood in packs over the summer “ s tranger Things” style or hightailed it out of class every day right as the bell rang for dismissal (then hiked to their beat-up 2005 m azda 3’s to smoke a much-needed joint … or 2 … or 3). They were cool; they were older; they were spending a Tuesday night over winter break in a niche coffee shop in v ienna (and they fit right in).

Their conversation was full of “strip mall talk,” the type of conversation you have in the c hick-fil-A drive-thru with hometown friends, discussing your most recent situationship or the avant-garde movie you want to watch later that night.

It was also full of “glittery, cosmic chatter,” the type of conversation you have while stargazing in some random field in the middle of the night, discussing big-picture postgrad plans or the profound philosophical differences between m ILF m anor and Love Island (which are cinematic masterpieces, obviously).

b ut really, c .P. and e ric’s conversation was just as rooted in the “now” as it was rooted in “10-years-fromnow.” s omehow, they jumped from high school nostalgia to the present woes of being a 20-something to the r est of their Lives with such ease.

They discussed their red flags — from being a s lytherin to disliking Popeye’s French Fries (fair). They laughed about the time c .P. got pulled over by a cop for speeding in the high school parking lot, and the time e ric partied with a random 30-year-old frat star (also fair). They made fun of each other: c .P. poked fun at e ric for being “the golden child” in high school, and e ric poked fun at c .P. for having a deep disdain for Greek Life. They talked about their futures, when c .P. gets her mb A, and e ric graduates from v irginia Tech in m ay. They talked about the friends they’ll visit in n ew York c ity, and the friends who are getting married in August. They talked “grand scheme.” They talked pregaming their kids’ soccer games (when they have kids … if they have kids). They talked meeting their future spouses (is it tacky to get a prenup if you’re not a celebrity?). They talked everything here and now and everything far, far away. s o while c .P. was telling e ric, “22’s getting kinda old. Am I old?” I couldn’t even fathom the year 20 (still can’t), but I could grasp c .P.’s fear of getting older. And while e ric discussed law school and investment banking in n ew York c ity, I couldn’t even fathom a summer internship, but I could see my own fear in his anxieties.

And I realized, much like them, I am thinking both big picture and small. I’m living for study dates in LaFun and runs around the lake and Friday nights, but I’m also living for a good job, a husband, a life. I too am on the cusp of the r est of my Life.

And in my “glittery, cosmic chatter” in n orth d ining h all well after closing, I find myself talking to friends more and more about where we might end up, the jobs we might have, the families we might build.

And while I’m younger than them, a part of me just wanted to say, “ c hill out guys, don’t worry. We’re all just swimming in the trivial wonders of life, the things we discuss in strip malls! We’re all just caught up in a future that is unknown and endless and cosmic — and a present that is chaotic and ridiculous and filled with so much meaning (probably)! We’re the youngest we’ll ever be and probably the most lost, but isn’t it fun?”

A part of me wishes I had the guts to expose myself as an eavesdropper and say that to their faces (it would’ve been funny, right?). b ut really, I felt at home there, in a niche coffee shop in v ienna, couched between c .P. and e ric on my left and a loud, ranting high schooler on my right (who was dramatic and annoying and a lot like me, only brattier). And it was in that northern v irginia coffeehouse that c .P. and e ric shared a beautiful, human conversation, one I’m sure they weren’t expecting some girl to write about in her o bserver column, but here we are. And while I’m still not totally convinced their names were c .P. and e ric, I want to let them know that in a niche coffee shop in v ienna, they fit right in.

Kate Casper (aka, Casper, Underdog or Jasmine) is from Northern Virginia, currently residing in Breen-Phillips Hall. She strives to be the best waste of your time. You can contact her at kcasper@nd.edu. The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

Leah Moody bridgend

The past 72 hours have been a blur. Alongside the typical slew of exams and papers, pretty much every organization that I’m involved in decided to hold a large event.

A few of the highlights: b ridge nd and Iron s harpens Iron have both been formative parts of my experience here at n otre d ame, their unique missions drawing me in at the beginning of my first year. b ridge nd is the n otre d ame chapter of b ridgeU s A, a national organization committed to constructive engagement, ideological diversity and solutions-oriented politics. Through our discussions and events, we attempt to fight polarization through open discussion. We do not expect, or want, people to hide their true beliefs. r ather, we encourage them to share their opinions and recognize the humanity of the other side. m y two biggest leadership commitments — d irector of e vents for b ridge nd and Iron s harpens Iron Leadership — don’t seem to be that similar at first glance. h owever, they are met with very similar reactions when I talk about them with people from home — usually it’s a laugh or a quizzical expression before they inevitably ask, “how does that work?” c ompared to politics, religion is not much of a source of division back home. h owever, like most important things, people were often unwilling to discuss their differences. As a Protestant, I was initially nervous to attend n otre d ame — I was scared to go to a school where the vast majority of students were of a different religious background than myself; I was scared to take c atholic theology classes; and I was scared to have my beliefs questioned and challenged. Anderson Township was a place where engaging with the other side in any matter felt unnecessary and I knew that coming to n otre d ame would serve as a needed challenge to the comfortable echo chambers I’d surrounded myself with in o hio.

Thursday, I was a moderator for b ridge the Gap, a series of small group roundtable discussions hosted by b ridge nd c overing topics such as gun control, healthcare and free speech, the event served as a means to foster positive, productive discussion among people of all viewpoints.

Friday, I helped to put on a campus wide prayer and worship night through Iron s harpens Iron, an interdenominational faith group affiliated with c ampus m inistry.

And today, I find myself spending my s aturday night sitting in a booth at LaFun, writing this oped just before its deadline.

Iron s harpens Iron is an interdenominational c hristian group, meaning we have c atholic, Protestant and o rthodox members. o ur name, Iron s harpens Iron, comes from Proverbs 27:17, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” In I s I, our mission is not to hide our differences, but instead to sharpen one another through them as we come together, united by the foundations of the c hristian faith.

I come from Anderson Township, a seemingly irrelevant o hio suburb where the local politics are so nasty that they repeatedly make national news. The feud over whether or not my high school mascot was a racist caricature was so contentious that The Wall s treet Journal covered it (they did, however, end up changing it after my senior year. Go r aptors!). Just last year, a student from my district testified before congress when the school board canceled a high school’s longstanding diversity day in fear that it was a guise for cr T indoctrination. m y e nglish teacher was told he could no longer read the news headlines to us at the beginning of class because they were too controversial, Facebook feuds over school board elections are notorious for distasteful personal attacks, and our location between urban c incinnati and rural, conservative c lermont county creates a tangible tension. It is certainly not a place that is homogeneous in thought. h owever, it is a place where people are so consumed with the idea of being “right” that they have deemed radicalism and gross rhetoric necessary in the fight for the morality of our beloved Township.

I love my hometown and I believe in the people there. h owever, it is not often a place where people are willing to speak to one another civilly about their differences. While we (often rightfully) criticize the “ n otre d ame” bubble, I have found it to be a refreshing escape from the “Anderson Township” bubble. n otre d ame is a place that’s student body possesses an incredibly wide spectrum of opinions on pretty much everything, and b ridge nd and Iron s harpens Iron have served as places for me to come together with people that think differently than me because we are united by something bigger than ourselves. I could have chosen to join a political group that aligned more closely with my ideological views, or a faith group where others share my personal theology. h owever, the growth that I have experienced at n otre d ame would be impossible if it were not for the diversity of viewpoints that I have intentionally surrounded myself with. n otre d ame has shaped me because its people have shaped me, and its people have shaped me because I have chosen to listen. s o, to answer the question of my friends from home: I’m not completely sure how it works. I don’t always know how to effectively work for multi-partisan bridge building and interdenominational unity, and I have fallen short several times. o ften, I wonder if it would be easier to throw in the towel and retreat to the safety of my ideological and religious sects. h owever, what I can tell them is that it is worth it — that challenging your own beliefs through respectful discourse with others will make you and your community far better off, despite how difficult it may seem. Whenever I begin to doubt it, I think about my hometown.

Leah Moody is a sophomore studying economics and philosophy with a minor in theology. She is originally from Cincinnati, Ohio, but resides in Flaherty Hall on Campus. She currently serves on leadership for Iron Sharpens Iron and is the Director of Events for BridgeND.

BridgeND is a multi-partisan political club committed to bridging the partisan divide through respectful and productive discourse. It meets bi-weekly on Mondays at 7 p.m. in Duncan Student Center Meeting Room 1, South W106 to learn about and discuss current political issues, and can be reached at bridgend@nd.edu or on Twitter @bridge_ND.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

Grateful for the moment

When spring break finally approached us, like most other people, I was so excited to take time to relax and not have to worry about the stresses of school work. n ormally, my family travels on a 14-hour car ride to the panhandle of Florida. h owever, this year, my brother and I had different spring breaks so we decided not to go. Instead, I set out on a two-day trip to m iami with my mom and one of my best friends, Grace.

When the day finally came to head to m iami, we woke up at 2 a.m. to catch our early morning flight, excited for the warm weather we were about to encounter. When we arrived in m iami, we checked into our hotel and headed off to a nearby Italian restaurant, ready to see all that m iami had to offer. After lunch, we headed to the nearby mall. Anyone that knows Grace and I knows that we can never turn down an opportunity to go into s ephora, even while on vacation. Later that night, we ventured off to another nearby Italian restaurant and had some of the most amazing and delicious food. Then, we went to check out some of the cool m iami districts.

The next day, we went and took advantage of the hotel pool and spa. After coming back from the spa, we headed back to our room to get ready to go to s outh b each for dinner. As we were getting ready, we heard this random beeping noise that we didn’t think much of at first. h owever, when opening the hotel door, the sound was significantly louder, and we quickly discovered it was the fire alarm. We quickly made our way to the stairs to walk down the 17 flights of stairs. While we were walking down the stairs, my mom tried to call the hotel to see if there was an actual fire, but no one was answering. We assumed it was because everyone had left the building.

When we made it to the third floor, we discovered the exit doors were locked. We later discovered the exit doors were locked on the first and second floors as well. We were trapped. There was no way out of the building, and we still didn’t know if there was an actual fire or not. At this point, panic had set in. We called the fire department to explain what was happening. We then went over to a nearby glass window and saw a few people walking around below us, as well as a few people from the fire department. s till, no one knew where we were. We had to shine flashlights and call a nearby restaurant so that the fire department could figure out how to find us.

After the fire department found us, we discovered that there was no actual fire. There had been a malfunction with the hotel’s system that had caused the alarms to go off, resulting in our being trapped. While it was relieving to hear that we hadn’t been in danger, this was something we had no way of knowing until we were actually out of the situation.

To me, this moment served as a reminder to never take life or the people in it for granted. e ach day is a blessing to be grateful for. We are not guaranteed a certain amount of time on earth, so it’s up to us to make the memories and cherish the moments spent with loved ones. And as traumatic as this experience was, we were still able to enjoy the rest of our time in m iami, creating memories that will undoubtedly last a lifetime.

Isabelle Kause is a sophomore at Notre Dame studying sociology and minoring in journalism. When she’s not busy, you can find her listening to country music or Taylor Swift or trying out new makeup/skincare products. She can be reached at ikause@nd.edu.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.