MIR ROR
OCTOBER 18, 2013
BETWEEN A NARP AND A HARD PLACE // 2 THE COLLEGE JOURNALISM QUESTION // 3
ABOUT LAST NIGHT// 4 THE HANOVER THRU-WAY // 8
MARGARET ROWLAND // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
2// MIRROR
EDITOR’S NOTE As I got my economics midterm back earlier this week, I found myself once again cursing the day that I decided to “take a class out of interest.” It’s my senior year of college, but I still haven’t learned to stick to what I’m good at and avoid the subjects I’m just not meant to tackle. When we arrived here, and for some of us it wasn’t that long ago, we felt that anything was possible. To be sure, the barrage of organizations to join and classes to take can be over whelming, but it is also inspiring. Slowly, as we adjust to our environment and we find our niche, all those possibilities seem a bit more distant. In this week’s issue, we take a look at a friendly group of woodsmen who pass through town pretty regularly, do a bit of metanalysis of what we do here at The Dartmouth, go undercover to find out what exactly the freshmen have been up to for the past six weeks and talk to some aspiring jocks who didn’t quite make the mark. Midterms may be weighing heavy, but beyond the imminent deadlines, it’s the same school that we arrived at three years ago, six weeks ago or somewhere in between. Maybe it’s time we all go out searching for that original lure of opportunity once more. Happy Friday!
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MIR ROR MIRROR EDITORS AMELIA ACOSTA TYLER BRADFORD EDITOR-IN-CHIEF JENNY CHE PUBLISHER GARDINER KREGLOW EXECUTIVE EDITORS DIANA MING FELICIA SCHWARTZ
OVER HEARDS
BETWEEN A NARP AND A HARD PLACE By LINDSAY KEARE and HAYLEY ADNOPOZ It’s easy to lump together ever yone who doesn’t play a varsity sport. The Narps, or Non-Athletic Regular People, don’t travel in huge packs with awesome matching bags and they don’t get to wear the world’s coolest sweaters. And ever yone knows it’s less acceptable to show up to class a little sweaty if you’re not wearing green and white Nike sneakers. But when you look more closely at Dartmouth’s Narp community, it’s hard to put marathon runners and treadmill walkers in the same categor y. Wondering which type of Narp you are? Check off the boxes for the descriptions that most closely fit your athletic ability and endeavors. Just know that if you lie, that automatically makes you a tr ying-too-hard Narp (see below.) Elite Narp: Pretty much is a varsity athlete, just doesn’t have those awesome sweaters. o Has run at least one (preferably more) marathon o Has hiked the Fifty or aspires to o Is an Emergency Medical Technician and Outdoor Emergency Care Certified o Went on a National Outdoor Leadership trip o Can bench press more than his or her body weight o Ran all “100 plus class year” laps around the Homecoming bonfire Upper Crust Narp: You’re in great shape and ever ybody knows it because you always wear athletic clothes in FoCo. o Plays a (legitimate) club sport, a.k.a. a sport with actual cuts o Runs or plans to run the Children’s Hospital at Dartmouth Half-Marathon (and casually tosses out the term “CHaD Half”) o Frequents Alumni Gym and the Zimmerman Fitness Center and knows how to use the weight machines! o Knows what Rip Road, Pine Park and Turnpike Road are o Can ski black diamonds with ease o Regularly attends 6:30 a.m. spinning class or runs at the same hour Tr ying-Too-Hard Narp: More like a Classic Narp in denial o Runs one lap around Occom Pond for a workout o Went sledding just to get a cute profile picture out of it o Uses the facetimey stationar y bikes in the gym (don’t pretend you don’t know which ones they are) OR o Sprints on the elliptical with no resistance o Fakes knowing the rules to squash, hockey and volleyball o Pregames the football games, but never actually makes it to Memorial Field Classic Narp: Exercise or not, you don’t really overthink it unless your pants start getting tight. o Has only ever gone hiking during Trips (but by hiking we mean cabin camping) o Considers trekking to Fourth Flour Berr y enough daily exercise o Refuses to go to sports games if the venue is too far of a walk (looking at you, softball)
’16 Guy: TDX won’t be good tonight, because there are no ’17s.
Blitz overheards to mirror@thedartmouth.com
ANTHONY CHICAIZA//THE DARTMOUTH
o Realizes eating healthily is more of an aspiration than a reality o Went to the gym once two weeks ago and still feels pretty good about it o Dancing in frats quickly gets tiring Bare-Minimum Narp: Does what is necessar y to graduate Dartmouth and that’s all. o Doggie paddled the two laps of the swim requirement o Refuses to live on any floor but the first o Did fishing for a P.E. credit (it’s so peaceful) o Considers a Strawberr y Fruit Roll-up to be one full ser ving of fruit o Ran a token lap around the bonfire o Went to the gym once and walked on the treadmill King or Queen of the Narps: You know who you are — own it. Totally rejects all athletic activities and might not graduate from Dartmouth because of your failure to meet the P.E requirements. If more than three qualities in any given categor y apply to you, congratulations! You’ve found your label at a school that was really lacking in ways to label people. From the anti-athlete to the master of Moosilauke, the good thing about Dartmouth is that there are always opportunities to break out of your fitness box. Want to do more? Hit the ground running while the grass is green and breathe in the sporty possibilities New Hampshire has to offer.
’17 Girl 1: I played a game called splash cup last night? Maybe it was cup...I’m not sure it was all so confusing.
’17 Girl: I played something called golden tree’d last night.
’15 in Econ class: Wait, how many zeroes are in a billion?
’15 Girl 1: I like gingers more in their natural environment ’15 Girl: You mean Ireland?
’14 Girl at Molly’s: My Dartmouth ID proves I’m 21, right?
MIRROR //3
M S I L A N R U O J E G E N L O L I T O S C E E U H Q T
TRENDING @ Dartmouth JUNOT DIAZ 1902 Gone are the days of lounging on the Green. It’s crunch time.
OPEN FOR BUSINESS
By ERIN LANDAU and HAYLEY ADNOPOZ This is the first in a two-part series looking at the role of journalism on college campuses. I am a college journalist, but I consider myself light-years away from being qualified to write professionally. My vocabulary isn’t extensive enough, my knowledge of political and world issues isn’t broad enough and I’ve yet to fully get over my fear of harsh criticism (read: rude online comments). So, in the Venn diagram of college and professional journalism, it’s pretty easy for me to fill in the two opposing sides. The overlapping center, however, may have just as many bullet points. And, I would argue, more substantial ones. This may seem painfully obvious, but college and professional publications both strive to inform their readerships. No matter how they are structured, how often they publish, what bells and whistles they employ or how broad their readership, there’s a fundamental goal of information distribution and analysis. Papers yoked to colleges can cover a broad range of topics, but usually all connect back to some element of campus life or the college experience, from the effect of the government shutdown on campus finances and fall fashion features. Charlotte Bilski, a deputy managing editor for Brown University’s Blog Daily Herald, echoed this point. “Blog’s role is to be the go-to news source for all students from all walks of campus life,” she said. “The idea is that if you are a student at Brown, you should be able to find your news on Blog. We also live tweet and live blog events such as the housing lottery. If it’s relevant to any student on campus, it’s something we would cover.” While events or issues at a specific institution might get coverage when they are particularly sensational or newsworthy, the trends, lectures, protests or notable students that seem fascinating within a college community are rarely enough to garner national attention. Within these micro-universes, priorities shift to focus on the day-to-day news of the institution, rather than the country or world at large. English professor Alexis Jetter, who also works as a freelance magazine writer, emphasized the investigative purpose of her profession. “[Professional newspapers] inform readers — and hopefully there still are some — about what their government and large corporations are doing behind closed doors and investigate how people’s daily lives are affected by the dizzy-
ing forces of economic, cultural, environmental, political, sexual and religious change,” Jetter said. “College newspapers, too, can tackle these larger ideas. But often, they serve a different purpose. As a former college newspaper reporter and editor, I think that the purpose of a college newspaper is to capture the human landscape of the college through spirited, engaged coverage of culture, politics, sports and music, never shying away from covering difficult or confusing stories that college administrators might prefer not be addressed.” Joshua Benton, director of the Nieman Journalism Lab at Harvard University, said that the biggest difference between college and professional journalists is that college students have less experience, and are mixing their journalistic work with classwork, which leads to a more challenging environment. “On the flip side, they are focused in on the specific interests of students in a way that professional journalists aren’t typically, bringing their own unique perspective to the paper,” Benton added. The end goal of both publications is to inform their readers based on their own strengths, but how this goal is achieved also varies across organizations. Most professional news organizations are run by privately owned companies, so the business structure is much more important, Benton said. The American newspaper business is in a difficult state, dealing with rapidly declining resources and a shifting editorial process with the domination of digital media. College news organizations are protected from some of those issues because they have a different funding model and a much more captive audience. “I’ve talked to a lot of hiring editors at professional news organizations about being disappointed,” Benton said. “There is a lot of change going on but they expect the 23-year-olds coming out of college to be fully versed in a digital-oriented, digital news world.” It is difficult to gain what Benton calls a “digital first mind set” when you have an unpaid, part-time staff already focused on conventional news production. It can also be difficult for college papers to take on long-term projects, since a paper’s leadership often works for a truncated tenure. “We haven’t seen much in the growth of sustainable student-driven online news media and I would love to see the next generation of
ALISON GUH//THE DARTMOUTH
sustainable long-term online news organizations at individual campuses,” Benton said. Jetter succinctly sums up the major differences and similarities between college and professional journalism. “The goal is the same — vibrant, page-turning and compelling reporting and writing,” Jetter said. “The scope is different — hopefully regional, national and international journalism has a wider lens.” Benton agreed, citing commonalities such as a desire to inform, to see the growth and health of one’s community, to see one’s name in the paper and even to have an excuse to ask people questions. “All those things are in play when you’re a freshman covering JV soccer or a professional covering the White House,” he said. “I think a good college news room would seem very recognizable to someone who works in a professional newsroom.” Jacques Steinberg ’88, a former education writer for The New York Times (and former editor-in-chief of The Dartmouth) described the paper’s niche on campus. “At least from where I sat, The D was the closest thing that the Dartmouth community had to an independent paper of record,” Steinberg. “We tried to report stories fairly and accurately, being sure to provide multiple points of view. We were financially independent of the administration and felt our allegiance was to giving readers the fullest sense of the issues of the day on campus.” Benton said that the American journalism profession, which generally prioritizes experience over a degree, should give hope to young writers. Steinberg echoed the point. “My involvement with The D set the tone for much of my Dartmouth experience, and influenced the work I would do for the next 25 years after I graduated from Dartmouth,” he said. “I will always be grateful that during my freshman fall, Esther Schrader ’87, a sophomore who lived across the hall from me in Mid Mass, fairly dragged me to my first D staff meeting.” Schrader herself would later serve as the Pentagon correspondent for the Los Angeles Times. Journalism everywhere is changing, both at the collegiate and professional level. The question now may be less of what differences exist between the two breeds, but rather how each will adapt to stay relevant in a new landscape of information.
It’s been a long three weeks, but our government finally exists again. Our projects requiring census data, however, were due yesterday. Thanks, Uncle Sam.
OVERCROWDED SPACES
The ban has been lifted and try as some fraternaties might, it is now the ’17s’ right as students to party it up in grimy basements. No need to panic if Friday night is a little more crowded than usual, it’s just the fresh crop.
COUGHING The only thing worse than midterms are the diseases that comes with them. Combine that with recovering from Homecoming, and we don’t stand a chance.
SAFE RIDE It’s taken us too long to discover this magical service, but you know what they say, better late than never.
CLASS RINGS
4// MIRROR
Strolling through the library these past few days, Homecoming seems more like a fond memory than the events of last week. Our beloved alumni have returned to their respective homes, Safety and Security has left its perch in FoCo and the freshmen who ran too close to the fire have started to grow their eyebrows back. Campus has, for the most part, returned to much of its pre-Homecoming, midtermfilled atmosphere. However, one important change has come to campus, and we have all undoubtedly noticed the fresh new faces roaming Webster Ave. as the Greek Leadership Council’s freshman ban was lifted on Monday. As first-years begin to explore their newfound freedom in navigating Greek houses on campus, it’s time to put one final campus question to rest. Just what exactly did they all do before they could get into fraternities? The answer varies, but for the most part, they were breathing new life into the term “dormhopping.” “There’s no ‘out’ to go to,” Merritt Losert ’17 said. “Going out means drinking in you or your friend’s dorm, or wandering around campus looking for dorms that are having parties.” When asked to describe a typical weekend night, most ’17s responded with similar stories. “Usually people start in dorms, go to Collis to see what’s happening, and then end up back in the dorms or at Late Night,” Olivia Rosen ’17 said. Terren Klein ’17 called the freshman social life “a game of room-hopping, jumping from pregame to pregame without an actual game.”
Full disclosure, one of us is actually a ’17. In Michelle’s experience, news of any remotely promising pregame would travel by word of mouth, but parties were often speedily broken up by Safety and Security, meaning more walking around campus than actually catching anything resembling a larger social function. The majority of freshmen, however, refused to let the policy kill their good time, and if they couldn’t enter frats, they were going to bring the frats to their own rooms. Many noted the overwhelming presence of Russell Sage as the hub of freshman entertainment. With rumors of beirut tournaments and the now infamous story of a male stripper visiting the fourth floor, a select group in the residence have affectionately adopted the name “Rho Sigma.” “Walking through the halls of Russell Sage at 11 p.m., there are herds of people in the hallways just waiting for someone to invite them in,” Klein said. Despite enforcement efforts from both Greek Letter Organizations and Societies and the Greek system itself, it’s no secret that some freshmen did spend time in fraternity basements, as well as in parties off-campus and in upperclassmen housing. This was, however, the exception rather than the rule, and it seems that most settled for a combination of Collis events and “pre-gaming for pre-games” as the six-week ban wore on. When the GLC policy was discussed this spring, it attracted wide debate over its efficacy, feasibility and consequences. Being the first class to actually experience the policy, members
MIRROR //5
of the Class of 2017 agreed that the greatest downsides included what seemed like more dangerous drinking habits, meeting fewer new people and missing out on a quintessential Dartmouth experience. “It hasn’t made me feel excluded, exactly,” Neil Kamath ’17 said. “I just feel like the ability to explore frats is something that other classes had the opportunity to do, and we haven’t been able to do that yet. We’ve also been restricted to networking with just our class, so we only hang out with people that we already know.” Kamath echoed a major concern, adding that although the ban did help them bond with his classmates, it certainly limited access to upperclassmen, restricting people to their teams or campus groups. “Unless you’re in a specific group, there hasn’t been a natural way to socialize with upperclassmen,” Klein said. Many raised doubts on whether the ban was an attempt to protect freshmen during the first six weeks, or to protect fraternities from freshmen who did not yet know how to handle the setting. No matter the intention, many ’17s said they agree that the policy worked much more in favor of protecting fraternities at the cost of promoting high-risk drinking in freshman dorms. Rosen said she guessed first-years probably still drank as much as they would have if Greek houses were open, and often much more, just in a different setting. Many interviewed reported drinking in short periods of time to avoid their UGAs breaking up parties. Throughout
the term, freshmen still got entangled with Safety and Security, Hanover Police and the Good Samaritan policy. “It helps protect the frats against risky behavior by the freshmen,” Losert said. “But it doesn’t protect the freshmen from their own risky behavior.” Several members of the Class of 2017 said their social experience without the Greek system was quite boring, and that alternative events sponsored by the College such as Collis After Dark left something to be desired. “It’s definitely getting old,” Rosen said. “There are only so many nights you can do this and still have it be fun and exciting.” Despite all the speculation and anticipation, most freshmen still had very limited impressions of the Greek system, except that it would finally be welcoming to them when the ban lifted. Monday was met with different emotions, with some freshmen feeling nervous about the new scene, and others simply excited to finally see firsthand what Greek life is really about. “It’s not even really a matter of exclusion, just a matter of mystery,” Kamath said. “I feel like it’s a good system because compared to a lot of other schools, it’s really open, so it actually fosters social inclusivity at Dartmouth. At a lot of other schools, you have to either be a girl, bring a girl or bring alcohol to get in.” The final embers of the Homecoming fire have become another part of Dartmouth history, and the only question left to ask is how next year’s Rho Sigma pledge class will handle their first six weeks of life at the College. ALI DALTON // THE DARTMOUTH
6// MIRROR
MIRROR ASKS
WHERE DO YOU GO ON CAMPUS TO CHEER YOURSELF UP WHEN YOU’RE FEELING DOWN? The Starbucks in Hanover. My mom got me a $100 gift card before she left, so I have extra incentive to make the walk. — Michelle Li ’17 When I’m sad at Dartmouth I go to the Orient, or maybe Molly’s to drown myself in bread or at least to Late Night to stuff my sadness full of fried mozzarella. There’s a theme to my recover y. — Luke McCann ’16 Whenever I’m in need of spiritual recover y, I love to jog down the road to the Co-Op in Lyme under a canopy of dappled sunlight created by the fall foliage. — Min Kyung Jeon ’16 ALYSSA MAHATME//THE DARTMOUTH
jobs and the festive atmosphere of Homecoming has been burnt to a crisp. It’s midterm week and the library is swamped with paper writers and problem-setters desperately regretting making that last ditch stand to go out on Saturday night. If you’re down with
The Big Emergency Meeting Area, better known as the BEMA. — Lily Fagin ’16 I love going to the grassy spot right across the bridge in Norwich on the left. There’s a great view of the river and some nice adirondack chairs. I also like any place that I can get ice cream. — Caren Duane ’15
improve your mood.
MEET OUR NEW WRITERS!
Every year the Mirror hires a fresh crop of eager-eyed reporters and columnists interested in investigative journalism, humor, culture and trends on campus. These students bring great writing skills, exciting new perspectives and a strong desire to explore topics central to campus life. We’re excited to welcome seven new writers to the Mirror staff, and equally excited to introduce them all to you here!
Luke McCann ’16
Lauren Huff ’17
Caren Duane ’15
Hayley Adnopoz ’16
Michelle Li ’17
Amanda Winch ’16
Katie Sinclair ’14 Senior Columnist
Seanie Civale ’14 Senior Columnist
Sakina Abu Boakye ’16
Amanda Smith ’14 Senior Columnist
MIRROR //7
COLUMN
WHAT HAVE WE DONE? IN CASE By SEANIE CIVALE and AMANDA SMITH YOU WERE WONDERING
COLUMN
By
KATIE SINCLAIR
During our sophomore year, a friend made an obser vation about us that rang disturbingly true: we love to talk about terms. We would like to think it’s not just us, but a tendency shared by many at Dartmouth. With people constantly cycling on and off, each quarter feels like a new year — distinct, special and full of the potential to do what we failed to last time around. Admittedly, we may take it a step further than the rest. We find ourselves ranking terms: freshman fall is at the top closely followed by nothing, with junior spring disqualified for foul play. We define terms by their vibes, the songs we listened to and the amount of time we spent flailing or flying through them. We have foolishly predicted the “next term” would be the “best ever” at the end of ever y quarter. So far we have been wrong each time. None have conquered 10F. 11W was a term of complaining and emerging from our dorms only to participate in intramural ice hockey. 11S was straight bliss. 11X saw Amanda working a real internship and Seanie nurturing the baby pigeon nested outside the window by her cubicle. If terms were sandwiches (just go with it), by this point of 13F, there would be half left. We’d be content with the first half we’d already eaten, yet we would be left with a bit of an appetite. So before we start in on the last, we will reflect on sandwiches past: Seanie: After prospective students’ weekend, a ’13 I had just met posted a single instruction on my Facebook wall: “Look for ward to 10F.” Intrigued, I googled this “10F” and found an online community for “Star Trek,” “Star Wars” and “Lord of the Rings” fans. I was thrilled to be among my own, until I searched Dartmouth and got no results. I returned to Google, this time involving such terms as “Dartmouth 10F,” “Hanover 10F,” “college 10F,” “what is 10F,” and “10F urban dictionar y.” It would not be the first time I looked up a slang term whose meaning I should have known by my age. In my search, I found several results that referenced the cr yptic “10F” in ways that only exacerbated my state of confusion. I lived in this state for four months. I could not “look for ward to 10F.” I wouldn’t
know a 10F if I were hit in the face with it. Finally on campus, my trip leader used the term, and I nodded knowingly. I continued to nod knowingly about nearly ever ything throughout that term, similar to the way I currently nod knowingly at the phrases “resume drop” and “government shutdown.” Two years later, however, I would find myself using the term “13S” in a meeting at my first pigeonless internship. Turns out new habits die almost as hard as old ones. Amanda: Alarms fail me. This has not always been true, but it is for 13F. Sleep Cycle, the only iPhone app I have ever paid for, also failed. There is one thing that has not: my mother. After alerting her earlier this week that waking up on time for class proved troublesome for me, she agreed to help. At 9:30 the following morning, my phone started to ring. I looked over, saw it was “Mom” calling, silenced it and continued to sleep. It rang again. I repeated the process. Then it happened again, and I knew there was only one way to put an end to it. I took the call, promised my cheerful mother that I was indeed rising and shining, hung up and happily went back to sleep. Then she called. Again. Because she knew. She always knows. “Get up. Now.” I did. In fact, I made it to class on time ever y day this week. When I shared this success with a friend, she congratulated me. When I explained to her the methods behind my success, she rescinded her congratulations with the statement: “Amanda, that is unacceptable.” Five weeks in and five weeks left, life is hitting us out of nowhere like the monsoon we experienced in week four when our windows were open. Combined, we are out one pillow, two socks, one radio clock and a phone charger. Amanda learned that despite what she was told growing up, only one space, not two, follows the period at the end of a sentence. Seanie learned that “anyways” is not a real word. We also realized that we have mentioned animals and/or insects weekly, a fact that neither disturbs nor pleases us greatly. We hope you are enjoying your sandwiches. Yours, Lucy & Ethel
In case you were wondering, the bacterium Yersinia pestis killed one-third of the population of Europe in 1348. As an English and biology double major, people tend to look at me askance and wonder what the hell the two subjects have to do with each other. To which I say, hey, guess what, Geoffrey Chaucer lived through the Black Death in 1348, and in microbiology we spend a of time talking about bacteria that can kill you, so there. When you read literature from before 1900 or so, main characters tend to drop dead quite suddenly. Consumption, ague or the bloody flux are common causes. It may just be shoddy writing on the author’s part, but back then people died young of disease. Now, when you need to dispatch an inconvenient character, the car crash is pretty much the main way to go. I’m also taking creative writing, so I am well-studied in the ways of removing troublesome characters in heartwrenching yet believable ways. I take it as a sign of my growing maturity and wisdom that I did not wake up Sunday morning with the taste of nasty green Redbull and Zenka punch in my mouth. Having survived Homecoming, I feel it right to advise you on other important survival tips. I like most of you, and I don’t want you to be prematurely written out of the novel that is life at Dartmouth. So, for the sake of everyone, GET YOUR FLU SHOT. I don’t care if you’ve already had the flu, Odin tells you that all vaccines are evil or you hate needles. Do it. Herd immunity is important. 90 percent of the population needs to be vaccinated to protect people who are immuno-compromised or allergic to materials in vaccines. If I were in charge, we would have people go from classroom to classroom in the morning and just stick people with flu vaccines. It really isn’t that hard to administer. First, find nonvaccinated person. Second, swab skin with alcohol or another disinfecting agent. Third, get needle and stick it into their arm. Fourth, seriously, most modern flu vaccines are intramuscular which means that if you have a long enough needle and find a body part with sufficient muscle tissue you actually can’t screw up. It hurts less than rejection, failing a test, bad sex or being hungover, and I know most of you have had one or all of the above experiences. So get over it and get your flu shot. No one wants your gross viruses. But just randomly sticking people with flu vaccines during 10s is most definitely unethical, which probably explains why I am not in charge. So, dear Dartmouth students, do the ethical thing and get yourself over to Dick’s House or CVS ASAP. Save yourself and your
peers from the misery that is a 100-degree fever during finals week. I too, dear readers, once thought I didn’t need a flu shot. I hadn’t suffered a bout of the flu since my elementary school days. But then I realized that was stupid, because why depend on the whims of Lady Fortune to keep me flu free when there exists a preventative method? Granted, the vaccine only protects against 2 or 3 strains, so you could also fall horribly ill with some other fun pathogen, but hey, it’s better than nothing. I got my shot on Oct. 3, so by the time this column comes out I am well past the two-week mark at which you are adequately protected from the flu. I have to say, the Dick’s House flu shot clinic is one of the most efficient Dartmouth services I have ever encountered. It took less time and was more painless than getting an ID card replaced or picking up a package from Hinman. There is a common misconception that people get sick in the winter because they are cold, and being cold makes the body more susceptible to infection. This is not entirely true. People get sick in the fall and winter because we throw together a bunch of people with developing immune systems together in poorly ventilated rooms for eight hours a day. School children, like mosquitoes for plasmodium or fleas for Yersinia pestis, are excellent disease vectors. And then those kids get their bodily secretions everywhere, thereby infecting their parents and teachers, who then spread it to everyone else. And people wonder why I don’t like small children. An anecdote to support this theory: one of my good friends from home works in a swim school teaching children ages four and five to swim, and she is always sick. QED. For those of us who are economists and not biologists, think of it in terms of cost benefit. Costs: You have to walk to the clinic and get a shot, and because you are old now they probably won’t give you a sticker, but you should try asking anyway. Benefit: You will not get the flu, which means you will not miss three days of class and fall hopelessly behind and fail to get into medical/law/ business school. Nor will you infect others, saving your friends and acquaintances from undue pain and suffering. It’s a pretty good deal. My general philosophy in life is, if there is a vaccine against a disease that I am likely to catch, I tend to go for it. So sorry, all you dead romantic writers, you won’t find me to be a willing consumptive heroine. We’ve got antibiotics for that now.
8 // MIRROR
PROFILE
The Hanover Thru-Way
Our quiet northeastern town is a haven for the determined men and women hiking the full distance of the Appalachian Trail, better known as thru-hikers.
ZACH INGBRETSEN // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF
The other day I met the Photobomber. Easily identified as a thru-hiker by his impressive beard and clunky backpack, the Photobomber was perched outside of Sanborn Librar y clutching a map and obser ving his surroundings. Overly excited to stumble upon one of these semi-mythical people, I ran up to him and eagerly, perhaps creepily, asked to hear his stor y. The name “Photobomber” is given to those who hike the entirety of the Appalachian Trail, a 2,200-mile stretch from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Mt. Katahdin in Maine. The AT runs down Hanover’s Main Street, making it the furthest north of the 10 towns who have main streets on the trail. Thru-hikers are generally categorized by the direction that they are hiking. Southbound hikers, or Sobos, start at Katahdin, while nor thbound hikers, or NoBos, begin at Springer. Flip flop thruhikers star t somewhere in the middle of the AT and then hike to either end. Most start in Georgia in Februar y, March or April and hike for about five months. As a Texas native, I didn’t know what a thru-hiker was until I came to New Hampshire. Like myself, many Dartmouth students have their first exposure to thru-hikers during their First-Year Trips. Jennifer Cunningham ’17, whose trip took her to the Northern Presidentials, encountered two thru-hikers who called themselves the Glacier Bandits and shared their shelter
for a night. “I live in North Carolina, and the AT goes through part of it, and actually ever y year we hiked part of it for cross-countr y camp,” Cunningham said. “So I’ve kind of encountered some thru-hikers ever y once in a while, but never got to spend the night with one like we did on our trip.” The Glacier Bandits even took a photo of Cunningham’s trip and posted it to their travel blog. For the most part, thru-hikers take on a trail name that is selfmade or given by others. During my freshman trip, I heard rumors of one “Disco Bob.” While his name was not in fact Bob, other thru-hikers named him Disco Bob because he carried around a disco ball and would play music in shelters from a radio. Bob, it appeared, just sounded catchy with Disco. During his trip, Eric Siu ’16 met Robo Jesus, a carpenter who had a metal rod in his back. The Photobomber got his name early on in his trek while staying at a shelter in Georgia. “I thought it was really cool that we had 15 people in a shelter and wanted to take a panoramic photo with my fancy pants phone,” Siu said. “Ever ybody was saying that I looked like the Unabomber because I was wearing a balaclava and a pair of riding goggles. After I tried to take my photo for, like, 10 minutes, someone said, ‘He’s not the Unabomber, he’s the Photobomber.’”
In addition to having a cool aliases, many male thru-hikers show their commitment to the trail by growing a beard to demonstrate how long they’ve been on the trail. The Photobomber I met started growing his beard out in Januar y after landing an internship with the nonprofit Appalachian Trail Conser vancy. His coworkers told him that if he was going to work in the mountains, he better look like a mountain man. Completion rates of the AT hover around 25 percent, the Conversvancy reports. While the hike requires months of planning, many thru-hikers attribute their success to the aid of trail angels, helpful strangers who offer advice and treats, also known as trail magic, along the way. While some offer shoe goo or trail mix, others even offer their houses and beds. Hanover is known for an abundance of trail magic, according to the Photobomber, who said that much of his journey came with uplifting stories of Hanover as a thru-hiker mecca. The trail is in fact an integral par t of Hanover. In the Howe Librar y, a May 2011 proclamation is framed on the wall, stating, “Hanover has been recognized and designated as an Appalachian Trail Community, and desires to continue to support this effort for no fewer than five years”. Also at Howe, thru-hikers can find significant resources for their trek, including a thru-hiker guest
book for sign-ins, a collection of frequently asked questions, a box to leave or take various helpful items like shampoo, a list of local trail angels with contact information and a wall full of hikers’ pictures and thank-you notes. The guest book is full of entries signed with trail name, hometowns and additional comments. My personal favorite comment was an exlamator y “AC! AC! AC! AC! AC!” from Dacks, Post and Lucky, all native to Yukon, Canada. The Hiker FAQs is full of information about ser vices that the town of fers, including showers and laundr y, restaurants, lodging and religious ser vices. Some local businesses, like Ramunto’s Brick and Brew Pizza, offer free food to thru-hikers who show their pack, and others, like the Co-Op Food Store, give a special discount. Metro Baker y and Cafe offers a free bagel to any thru-hiker who comes by. “I think it goes back to my philosophy that this baker y here is part of a community, that you can come here and hang out and not buy anything,” Metro Cafe general manager Denise Anderson said. “And that’s the same philosophy for the hikers, they come through and they are being introduced to our community and it’s nice to invite them to your place.” These little things mean a lot to the itinerant wanderers. On the Howe Librar y wall, Onegreywolf left a note reading, “A big thank
you from a once tired and smelly thru-hiker, for the welcome and help you and your staf f gave me.” Another thru-hiker, Kristi “Happy Little Tree” Hamilton, commented, “You should realize that no one can hike the entire trail without the help, support and kindness of people like [the Howe librarians], as well as trail maintenance and volunteers. It’s nice to be treated like a human being and not some filthy vagrant (which is only partially true at the moment); many of us are professionals who just want to fulfill a dream. Thank you!” While you may have briefly met a thru-hiker on your freshman trip, ran into one at a dorm party or just heard a crazy stor y about a bearded dude, it is evident that they are a unique bunch. At the end of our chat, the Photobomber left me with words of wisdom for those who are interested in hiking the Appalachian Trail. “It really reaffirms your belief in the good of humanity because ever ybody out there has their own different walks of life,” he said. “Ever ybody has their own stor y and their own reason to be out there, but ever ybody has one common goal and it’s just such a positive environment. It’s the most challenging and most rewarding thing I have ever done in my life.” With that said, I pointed him in the direction of Wheelock St. and he trooped off to continue his journey.