SPORTS

FENCING

YALE TO COMPETE AT BRANDEIS Yale will join Cornell, St. John's, MIT, Tufts, Brown and host school Brandeis to compete at the Brandeis Invitational in Waltham, Mass. for their second tournament of the year this Sunday.

SQUASH

TEAM TO FACE DREXEL, WILLIAMS After winning against the University of Virginia in their season opener, the Yale men and women's squash will host Williams this Friday before traveling to compete against Drexel on Sunday.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2022 · yaledailynews.com

“The fi rst couple months of the year haven’t gone how we wanted them to, but we’re not looking in the rearview mirror and only focusing on how we can get better from here on out”

RYAN STEVENS ’24

YALE MEN'S HOCKEY FORWARD

VOLLEYBALL: Elis secure Ivy title, prep for NCAA

JULIA SUN/CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHER

Yale’s volleyball team will face o against fi fth-seeded UCF this weekend in State College, Pennsylvania.

BY HENRY FRECH CONTRIBUTING REPORTER

After losing just one conference matchup all season, the Yale volleyball team (23–2, 13–1 Ivy) dominated the Ivy League tournament to secure the 12th conference title in school history.

The Bulldogs swept Dartmouth College (16–9, 8–6 ) in the first round to advance to the fi nals, where they matched up against Brown University (15–10, 10–4), who had just upset Princeton University (21–4, 13–1) with a fi rst round sweep of their own. The Blue and White beat Brown in four sets to claim not only an Ivy League championship but also a ticket to the NCAA tournament. The win capped o one of the most decorated seasons in Yale volleyball history.

“Words can't describe how proud I am of this team,” wrote captain Renee Shultz ’23. “Since the very beginning of the season, all the way back in the summer, we established team goals and ever since then we've been working hard to achieve them. Now that we've earned our Ivy League championship and are heading to the NCAAs to represent Yale, I'm so excited to see what else we're capable of.”

In the opening round of the Ivy Tournament, the Big Green proved to be no match for the Bulldogs, failing to reach even 20 points in any of the three sets. Mila Yarich ’25 — who ranked in the top eight in the Ivy League in aces, digs, kills and points scored all season — led the Bulldogs with three aces and 14 digs. Yarich’s nine kills ranked second on the team for the game.

While many expected a Yale-Princeton matchup in the fi nals, as the two teams split their regular-season matchups and went undefeated against the rest of the league, the Bulldogs instead met the Bears in the fi nal. On Friday, Brown stunned the Tigers in three highly competitive sets and knocked Princeton out of the tournament.

On Saturday, Brown opened the fi nals on a 5–0 run, carrying over their moment from their upset victory. However, the Bulldogs roared back to win the set by a 25–21 margin. They won the second set by the same score, but the Bears refused to back down, winning a hard-fought third set 27–25. The Blue and White closed things out in the fourth, however, as they took an early 7–1 lead and never looked back.

Gigi Barr ’25 — with 17 kills and six blocks — and Carly Diehl ’25 — with 43 assists, 16 digs and two aces — led the way for the Bulldogs in the fi nal, allowing them to host the championship banner on Yale’s home fl oor.

In addition to conference bragging rights, the win also clinched a berth in the NCAA volleyball tournament. After losing only two games all year, and only once since Sep. 3, Yale looks to be one of the best Ivy League teams in recent history. No Ivy League school has won an NCAA tournament game since Penn defeated Army in the first round in 2009. No Ivy team has even

SEE VOLLEYBALL PAGE 10

M BASKETBALL: Colorado snaps Yale’s unbeaten streak

BY BEN RAAB CONTRIBUTING REPORTER

The Yale men’s basketball team (7–1, 0–0 Ivy) hit a new school record with 18 three-pointers as they cruised to an 86–40 victory over Howard (4–6, 0–0 ME) at home Wednesday night.

“That’s what was available,” head coach James Jones said. “The guys were wide open for catchand-shoot opportunities. We found good rhythm jumpshots for our shooters, so we’re certainly going to take those.”

Guard August Mahoney ’24 propelled the Bulldogs to a dominant 47-point first half with 15 of his 18 points — all of which came on three-pointers — coming before the break. Guard John Poulakidas ’25 also scored all his points from three, fi nishing with 12 points on four of eight shooting.

The stellar shooting performance was a continuation of a strong campaign for Yale’s three-point specialists, who are shooting 47 and 51 percent from three, respectively.

“I’m confi dent in myself just as I am confi dent in my team-

SEE M BASKETBALL PAGE 10

YALE ATHLETICS

Yale cruised to consecutive victories against John Jay and Vermont before falling to Colorado 65-62.

W BASKETBALL: Bulldogs split four games

VAIBHAV SHARMA/SENIOR PHOTOGRAPHER

The Yale women's crew team clocked in fi ve victories, e ectively sweeping Radcli e and Northeastern on the Housatonic.

BY HENRY FRECH CONTRIBUTING REPORTER

Eight games into the season, the Yale women’s basketball team is 4–4.

Since the start of Thanksgiving break, the Bulldogs (4–4, 0–0 Ivy) have played four games. The Elis beat Maine (3–4, 0–0 America East) on Nov. 19 to start o the break strong.

“We just moved the ball around well and continuously made the right passes and found the open person,.” Jenna Clark ’24 wrote. “We were feeling it on o ense that night and shot the ball well.”

The next week, Yale traveled to Colorado to play in the University of Denver Classic against New Mexico State University (2–4, 0–0 WAC) and Houston Christian University (3–2, 0–0 Southland). The Bulldogs beat NMSU and lost to HCU. After returning to the East Coast, the Bulldogs played at UMass (7–1, 0–0 Atlantic 10) and fell to the Minutewomen.

In their game at Maine, the Elis outscored their hosts 17–3 in the second quarter to end the fi rst half ahead 30–10. The Bulldogs held o Maine for the rest of the game and won 55–46. Clark led the squad with 15 points and fi ve assists. Elles van Der Maas ’24 scored 11 points and Mackenzie Egger ’25 added on 10 more.

The Bulldogs then traveled to Colorado to play in the University of Denver Classic. Yale brought their offensive attack as at least three players scored in double fi gures in each game.

In the fi rst game against New Mex-

SEE W BASKETBALL PAGE 10

W HOCKEY: Bulldogs win in early season games

BY ROSA BRACERAS AND STEPHEN KING STAFF REPORTERS

The Yale women’s hockey team (8–0–0, 4–0–0 ECAC) has proven to be among the nation’s best following early success in an undefeated start to the season and winning the Henderson Collegiate Hockey Showcase.

After big wins over nationally ranked ECAC foes No. 4 Quinnipiac (14–1–0, 6–1–0 ECAC) and No. 15 Princeton (4–5–1, 2–4–0 ECAC), the Bulldogs faced off with No. 12 Pennsylvania State University (11–8–1, 3–1–0 Big 10) in a pair of home games, downing the Nittany Lions twice.

Following the wins over Penn State, the Bulldogs headed to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving break to play in the Henderson Collegiate Hockey Showcase. This was the teams’ first year playing in the showcase, which made its debut this year. The tournament replaced their usual Nutmeg Classic that the Bulldogs have played in since 2007.

“The Vegas tournament was really fun,” captain Claire Dalton ’23 told the News. “I am glad we got the chance to participate!”

Once there, victories against Boston University and No. 5 University of Minnesota propelled the Bulldogs to No. 3 in the nation in the USCHO poll, where the team also received three fi rst-place votes. Minnesota fell from No. 3 to No. 5.

The Bulldogs battled against the Terriers for two scoreless periods before Carina DiAntonio ’26 knocked one past the BU goaltender off of assists from Charlotte Welch ’23 and Dalton. Dalton’s assist marked her 100th career point as a Bulldog, making her the third player to reach this milestone in program history.

“It is an honor,” Dalton said about reaching the milestone. “It is indicative of the corner this program has turned. We have plenty of girls on pace to break and set records, some of whom aren’t even seniors. When both the team and individuals are reaching new

SEE W HOCKEY PAGE 10

YALE ATHLETICS

Since the start of Thanksgiving Break, the team has won two games against Maine and New Mexico State.

WEEKEND

THANK YOU SPISSUE

// LIZZIE CONKLIN

// BY GIA-BAO DAM

Walking around campus, you will fi nd many interesting characters, but there is only one celebrity — and he walks on four legs.

Handsome Dan XIX has been the face of Yale in both athletic and public events since his introduction in 2021, making him one of the most recognizable figures on campus. The key to Kingman’s — Handsome Dan’s real name — elegance can be demystified by his moderate diet and exercising habits, as well as his sleep schedule.

“Handsome Dan leads a very active lifestyle and maintains a well-balanced diet,” said Kassandra Haro ’18, Handsome Dan’s handler and a Yale program administrator.

Haro continued to explain that Kingman is a very active dog. When it comes to exercising, his activities are manifold. He enjoys running around the Silliman Courtyard, Edgerton Park and going on long walks around New Haven. He also loves socializing — not only as a duty, but also as a fun pastime. One of Handsome Dan’s favorite recreations is playing tag and tug-of-war with his canine friends.

Just like Yale students, Handsome Dan works hard on both his body and mind.

“Mental enrichment is just as important for canine health and happiness,” Haro explained in an email to the News. “He also does a lot of mental enrichment like training, hide and search and puzzle work.”

Handsome Dan also keeps a regular sleep schedule. He has a long stretch of sleeping through the night, and if he has an active day with lots of work and playtime, he will usually take a nap in the afternoon. Adorable footage of Kingman’s napping sessions are readily available on his o cial Instagram account.

When it comes to diet, Handsome Dan’s selection of food is heavily based on the recommendation of his breeder, Wicked Good Bulldogges, who have many years of experience with the breed and whose dogs lead long and healthy lives.

“When it comes to diet we are big believers in whole foods here,” Jessica Seiders of Wicked Good Bulldogges wrote to the News. “We like to feed as much raw, whole foods and lightly cooked meals as possible along with their daily kibble.”

Following this advice, Haro keeps to single ingredient treats when it comes to snacks, as they are low in calories and easy on dog stomachs.

“He eats his turkey-based dog food everyday, which I soak in water and broth,” Haro said. “This helps him stay hydrated, feel satiated and digest his food better. I like to add a little frozen pumpkin cube for fi ber and his daily vet-recommended probiotic. Sometimes I will add green beans, blueberries, cucumbers or a little plain boiled chicken as a treat.”

As for Handsome Dan’s Thanksgiving feast, Haro chose a plain Cornish hen, green beans, blueberries, frozen molds of greek yogurt, bananas, apples and pumpkins.

Not much has changed in Handsome Dan’s diet since he was a puppy, apart from increasing his calorie intake and slowly introducing new foods. Regarding his exercise habits, it’s not recommended for young puppies to do too much exercise for fear it would be harsh on their growing bones.

Handsome Dan spent a majority of his playtime and mental enrichment indoors when he was younger, along with occasional short walks. Now, Dan has become much more active and enjoys long walks and playtime, especially sprints.

For health needs, Handsome Dan goes to the Vet Wellness Center in New Haven.

A GLIMPSE INTO HANDSOME DAN’S

HEALTH ROUTINE “According to his vet, he is very healthy,” Haro said. “He has a perfect weight, great bloodwork and is up to date on all of his vaccines and preventatives, [specifically] heartworm and tick/flea meds.” Thanks to a well-balanced health routine, Handsome Dan continues to boost morale, lifting the spirits of Yale campus and bringing joy to the faces of thousands of students and faculty sta . It comes as no surprise that Yalies very much enjoy seeing Handsome Dan around campus. “He is certainly looking very happy and healthy,” Halle Sherlock ’26 said, on meeting Handsome Dan at her volleyball send-o on Nov. 30. Daniel Carrillo ‘26 agreed. “Handsome Dan is the handsomest dog I’ve ever seen,” Carrillo said, on seeing Handsome Dan on Cross Campus before the Harvard-Yale Game. “I wish I was as handsome as Handsome Dan.” Yalies can request Handsome Dan to come to an event through the Yale Visitor Center website. Contact GIA-BAO DAM at gia-bao.dam@yale.edu .

JOY IN THE LIFE OF THINGS

// BY JESSAI FLORES

On Thanksgiving Day, I danced with the portrait of the woman in blue who was hung over the mantle of the Davenport Common Room. She was as old and as dead as many of the other painted people on the walls of the University. But there was something to be said of the liberation I felt to spin top-like in a reckless beeline around the stuffy hotel furniture of the room. I spun and spun as she looked down. Down through her block glasses, following the arrow of her sloped nose and to the dirty carpet beneath her. Was she lonely? I wondered. Perhaps she was, but was not everyone who came before and after her?

Yale has a reputation of being lonely and loud, protruding from the center of the city like a cathedral to education. It is a collection of gothic spires where legacies are remembered, tended to, and forged by generations of pupils according to rules written and rewritten across the institution’s many years. In these years, there are small gaps in the University’s phonographic record of loud student life. The recesses, the breaks and snaps in the sounds of Yale’s history, occur when the voices and cheers subside and a salve of silence fi lls the vacuum left behind. Those of us who stay during the breaks, like me and the woman in blue, are given a rare sight: a Yale that is quiet but not lonely.

It is true what they say about never knowing what you have until it is gone. This idea has haunted me this semester. It is my last year at Yale, and I have kept myself busy tending to the garden of my many commitments: pruning the roses of my readings, organizing the lilies as paper-white as all the canvases I had to fi ll as an illustrator and swatting at the aphids of procrastination that ate what I had planted. Anything to keep me hunched over my plot with my back to tomorrow. A cloudy tomorrow that would usher in the spring and its commencement, raining down caps that would bid my class farewell for the last time. I do not like to think about it — graduation and having to leave this place. This year’s Thanksgiving Break, my last one, forced me to contend with this place and the beauty of it that I got to enjoy. And Yale is beautiful. I let the silence of the empty campus fi ll in the noisy corners of my memory that had been slanted by the pressure to perform. So, I looked up, and I spent my break waltzing among Yale’s many oaks, screeching out songs in silent rooms, and taking in its history. I never knew what I had until my commitments were postponed, and I could enjoy time to myself.

The silence is not lonely, though it can be if you choose to resist it. You have got to learn to sing with it, to fill it with a quiet appreciation for what you have. Is that not what the spirit of Thanksgiving is: a ritual counting of blessings? The break afforded me a cornucopia-like silence for me to fill with the thanks I gave for the honor of a lifetime — of getting to be a student here — and its many quiet moments of reflection and joy.

There is joy in the life of things, and the silence of the break allowed me to recite its praises by enjoying the time I was afforded to be alone. I meandered through the many overpriced boutiques on campus, like the one by the ice cream shop that sells beige sweaters for three-hundred dollars, and pretended that I was a rich man and there was joy in that. I manned the reference desk at Sterling Library, the one place where the silence was filled with the noise of tourism, and I ate donuts with my desk partners — there was joy in that too. There was joy in the leaves I crunched beneath my heels, in the laughs over sticky packing tape that I shared with the mailwoman at the post office, in the blush of my face braced against the cold, and in the circles I spun in front of the woman in blue. Joy! In the lives of all the things! Staying behind on Thanksgiving is a joyful type of loneliness, full of the things called memories and friendships and telephone calls with loved ones. To stay behind is to see the blanket of silence hush over the cupolas, cross braces and eaves of empty campus buildings — and to see this place come to life again when it is all over. When the break ended and the noise of students burst from the trumpet-mouths of airport shuttles and taxi cabs that dropped their cargo outside Phelps Gate, I was // JESSAI FLORES satisfi ed with the knowledge that at least I had the week to enjoy the University alone. To walk its many corridors and make note of its many joys. But I was also relieved to be once again surrounded by my peers because there is joy in that too. During the break, I savored the leisure of being alone, of swinging on the swing set behind the Lock Street parking garage and dancing under the fi xed gaze of the woman in blue whose smile was painted upon her face. She, too, knew of the joy of things. The night after the break ended, someone played Mozart on the common room piano, and my sly eyes met the frozen ones of the woman in blue. We smiled because even as the old dramatic performance of Yale life continued as if it was never interrupted, the secret of Yale as a place of quiet joy was something only we — and you now — know.

Contact JESSAI FLORES at jessai.fl ores@yale.edu .

Thanksgiving Dinner Rankings

// BY BRI ANDERSON

Thanksgiving in the South is basically the culinary Olympics. Think Hell’s Kitchen, except instead of Gordon Ramsey yelling at you, it’s a seemingly sweet little old lady at the church potluck telling you that your attempt at a cornbread casserole is “so precious.” Or worse, asking “Did you get this recipe out of Southern Living?” The answer is always yes, even the family recipes probably come from a magazine your grandma picked up in 1960, but you could never say that to a church lady.

Lucky me, my family is not a pre-thanksgiving church potluck type. But I’ve tasted enough unique dishes, family recipes and yes, recipes right from the casserole gospel Southern Living itself to consider myself qualifi ed to rank the Thanksgiving dishes I’ve seen on my family’s table and maybe yours.

10. Creamed Corn

I don’t know if you’ve had the misfortune of eating this often watery, sloshy corn pudding, but I wouldn’t wish this dish on my worst enemy. If you listed this as one of your favorites, my back-home slang might just slip out with a, “bless your heart.” 9. Cranberry Sauce

Placing cranberry sauce so low on this list might turn some heads, but if the turkey is cooked well and the gravy is good, there is absolutely no need for cranberry sauce. And as much as I hate to say it, if your cranberry sauce isn’t sliced with the lines of the can showing, I want it even less.

8. Turkey

The main dish of Thanksgiving is theoretically great. A juicy, well-seasoned turkey is probably my favorite dish on the table. But it is so rare for a turkey to not be absolutely bone-dry. (Dad, since I know you’ll read this, your turkey is never dry, but this article is speaking generally.)

7. Dinner Rolls

Not good, not bad. I have no complaints, but at the same time I have no compliments in comparison to every other dish on the table. People go wild for them, but it’s bread. It’s bread, people.

6. Mac and Cheese

Mac and Cheese is one of those Thanksgiving dishes that just has to be done the right way. I’m not opposed to a casserole, but I am opposed to weird toppings on the mac and cheese. Feel free to experiment with your food, but do not put goldfish on your mac and cheese on Thanksgiving Day unless it’s going straight to the kids’ table.

5. Green Beans

For a long time, green beans were one of the only vegetables I actually liked to eat. I argue they aren’t good green beans if there’s no chopped bacon bits in it to give it a little more fl avor.

4. Mashed Potatoes

I had a childhood obsession with mashed potatoes. There were a solid two years where I made my mother cook mashed potatoes with every meal possible. So maybe it’s nostalgia that slides this dish into my top 5.

3. Stu ng

Stu ng cooked in the turkey with some homemade turkey gravy over the top is incredibly underrated. The savory, salty mix of bread, spices and vegetables is irreplaceable. It’s not Thanksgiving without it.

2. Pumpkin Pie

There’s something special about pumpkin pie in that there’s a very limited time of year that you can get it. Just like its other pumpkin flavored counterpart, the pumpkin spice latte, it isn’t even the flavor, but the limited fall only availability that makes pumpkin pie so desirable. That said, I love pumpkin pie for the flavor. Especially of the Costco variety. That pie could feed a small army and it’s absolutely delicious, for only ten dollars. It should be illegal.

1. Sweet Potato Casserole

To be fair, I’m not sure if this is all that common, but mashed sweet potatoes with melted, browned mini marshmallows on top are the crème de la crème of the Thanksgiving table. I’m the kind of person who would eat dessert first if it was socially acceptable, so having these on my plate satiates me until I can bite into #2 on this list, pumpkin pie.

By the time you’re reading this list, I know you’ve already put the creamed corn on your table and dressed your dry turkey with homemade cranberry sauce and beef gravy. But with any luck, this list will save you next year when you’re prepping to deal with the yearly passive aggressive dinner table arguments with relatives and “walks” with your favorite cousins.

Contact BRI ANDERSON at bri.anderson@yale.edu .

// JESSAI FLORES

WKND RECOMMENDS

Mismathched socks.

// BY ANDREW CRAMER

Daily thanksgivings

// JESSAI FLORES

At every Cramer Thanksgiving dinner, we go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. The answers have ranged from health and family to LeBron James coming home to Cleveland — shoutout grandma Marge.

It’s not a unique tradition, but it feels as if it’s taken on added meaning in recent years. As my cousins, brothers and I have left home for college, we’ve found greater appreciation for the support from each other and our parents

But why is gratitude a oncea-year exercise? With so much to be grateful for, why do we only express it on the fourth Thursday of November?

I’ve tried, over the past twoand-a-half years, to break into the habit of continued gratitude. It began with a recommendation from a high school tennis coach.

On March 10, 2020, we were finishing our final practice before spring break. As we wrapped up, our coach huddled us up and gave some long-winded speech. I forget most of what he said, but the main idea was this: we had to shift our mindset during the season’s most important points. For us to appreciate those moments more, he asked us to keep gratitude journals to start a practice of appreciation for the small moments.

The next day, I selected a small moleskine notebook to use as my journal. In the morning, I wrote down three things I was looking forward to that day. And that night, I wrote down three things I was grateful for.

That week, spring break of 2020, also happened to be the start of COVID-19 shutdowns. I never went into school again that year. The tennis season was canceled within a few days. We never discussed gratitude journals again.

That journal did not achieve the desired results of making me a bona fi de tennis superstar. But it became much more important than that.

As the world around me seemed to be crumbling and I suddenly felt very isolated from my friends, it forced me every morning to find those three things every morning and every night.

It made me appreciate big things I had taken for granted like my health and family. That was perhaps an obvious outcome. But it also forced me to find small things to be grateful for: pasta and meatballs, beating my brother in video games, my dad reading the word of the day on Urban Dictionary at family dinner, FaceTime calls with my friends and private Zoom chats.

It’s been two and a half years now, and I haven’t missed an entry. What I once thought of as a somewhat cheesy exercise has become one of my most cherished rituals and changed the way I think about my days.

When I face scary days — like catching up on the homework that somehow piled up over Thanksgiving on the Sunday before classes resume — there are still always three reasons for optimism. And at the end of the most difficult, exhausting and frustrating days, I’m forced to remember that it wasn’t as bad as I thought.

There is always something to be grateful for.

So if I’m so perfectly grateful all the time, why do I still care so much about the Thanksgiving tradition? It should be just another day.

But Thanksgiving captures something so central to the idea of gratitude that I seem to ignore: sharing.

It’s one thing to write down that I enjoyed a meal with a friend. It’s another to send a text saying, “I’m thankful to have you in my life.” I can be grateful to be home, but it’s not the same as telling my parents how happy I am to see them.

I find it challenging to express gratitude unprompted. It feels awkward. But there are so many people that mean so much to me, and it feels so deeply wrong to only acknowledge that once every 365 days. Let’s normalize Thanksgiving.

Contact ANDREW CRAMER at andrew.cramer@yale.edu .

On Thanksgiving morning, I woke up earlier than any sane college student on vacation should. Why would I do this? Obviously to participate in my family’s annual tradition: the Turkey Trot. My parents, two siblings, grandparents, visiting aunt and aunt’s new dog drove 20-odd minutes to participate in the race, along with a handful of other local Trotters with a propensity for pain.

My family’s participation in the Turkey Trot has taken several forms over the years. The tradition originated with my dad’s family when a group of neighbors gathered to jog, walk and bike around the block to infuse some flavorful exercise into an otherwise sedentary day.

Then, when my family moved out of town, the Trot became a long, circular walk on the property behind my house. Because the property technically belongs to the city and not to us, the Trot involved coaxing twenty relatives and four dogs over/under a gate bearing a “no trespassing” sign written in large red letters. Sometimes, a city official would drive by in a truck, prompting an exciting round of “hide in the bushes.”

This year, the famed Trot consisted of a 5K run on a local race route that makes cross country kids cry. I like to imagine the addition of a generous layer of snow, ice and mud on top of the steep hills was intended to remind us trotters of mashed potatoes and put us in the Thanksgiving spirit. The sheer, ice-encrusted slopes kept me on my toes — literally — and the biting, winter-morning air reminded me of my utter dependence on albuterol inhalers.

But I confess I enjoyed the Trot. The sparkling snowy views

The Trot

// BY HANNAH MARK

were spectacular, and I was grateful to once more be surrounded by the scenery of home. Even more, I was glad I have a — somewhat wacky — family who likes to partake in frigid adventures, even at early hours of the morning.

Most heartwarming of all, though, was my grandfather’s positive energy and perseverance. He completed the entire race in his neon orange jacket, despite the mashed potato snow, despite the fact that he just celebrated his 80th birthday. I can only hope that

// ARIANE DE GENNARO

when I’m 80, my dedication to the Trot will be as faithful as his.

Contact HANNAH MARK at h.mark@yale.edu .

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Fingerless gloves.

// BY HANNAH KURCZESKI

Going Home

My car jumps as it rides over the trademark Pennsylvania potholes, tracing the familiar path through my town to Haylie’s house. The sights outside my window haven’t changed in the three months I’ve been gone, save for some trees that have been chopped down across from my elementary school to make room for more houses. Other than that, home is exactly the way it has always been.

Except it isn’t.

The bed that I’ve slept in for the past 18 years of my life feels cold and fresh, the same way a bed at a hotel does. It doesn’t take time to mold to your body, because it knows you won’t be there long. My walls are still adorned with peeling pink paper and old Broadway playbills, but there are noticeable gaps in way playbills, but there are noticeable gaps in the decor. Once upon a time, every inch of wall the decor. Once upon a time, every inch of wall space was covered. Now, colorful tacks stand space was covered. Now, colorful tacks stand in the wall, sticking out like tombstones in in the wall, sticking out like tombstones in a floral pink field. They trace the outline a floral pink field. They trace the outline of what used to be, what I’ve since torn of what used to be, what I’ve since torn down and transferred to my new home five hours away.

When I arrive at Haylie’s doorstep, she greets me with her usual toothy grin. “I almost burned my house grin. “I almost burned my house down!” she exclaims as soon as she sees me, then proceeds to explain all of the things that went wrong all of the things that went wrong while she was cooking the turkey for our Friendsgiving. She’s dramatic and full of life just like she’s always been, and the sight of her soothes my aching heart.

When our other two friends arrive, I’m hit with another wave of nostalgia. Val is still Val, arranging her charcuterie board with utmost precision and groaning about her tummy hurting after dinner. And Angie is still Angie, joking about the people we know from high school and pretending to bite my shoulder when I give her a hug. Together, the four of us make up the Pinocchio Hate Club. It’s not because we hate Pinocchio; It’s an old inside joke that became the name for our group chat, and now it’s too iconic to be replaced.

“It’s nice to know some things never change,” I think to myself as we pass around a box of Crumbl cookies. Minutes later, I accidentally knock said box of cookies off the table, and it becomes clear that my time at college hasn’t foreign, but perhaps it is me who is the foreigner. Life at Yale couldn’t be more different from life in my tiny hometown —

made me any less clumsy. Haylie laughs, Angie gasps, Val looks at the now-crushed cookies in dismay, and I wish I could bottle the moment and save it forever. I wasn’t ever homesick at college, but at that moment, I realized I was people-sick. I missed having these three sunbeams of light in my life more than I knew possible. They’re familiar, they’re safe; they’re constants in an endless sea of ever-changing variables. Yet, as we sit around

the table swapping stories from our respective colleges, I realize that that isn’t entirely true. Though she’s still the same person at her core, Angie sits a little taller when she speaks, and her words carry a newfound confi dence. Haylie’s stories about the people she’s met at University of Michigan are hard to follow because they contain so many characters, and it’s clear that she’s become even more outgoing than she

was before — which none of us thought was possible. Val stayed closer to home than the rest of us, but even she is different. She’s much more articulate about her feelings and doesn’t shove them aside the way she used to. The changes are so minute, I’m sure my friends don’t notice them themselves, but I have the privilege of seeing them anew, after months apart. As I kneel next to Haylie to scrub cookie icing o the fl oor, I wonder what changes they, in turn, must be noticing in me. I complained earlier about how home feels foreign, but perhaps it is me who is the foreigner. Life at Yale couldn’t be more different from life in my tiny hometown — not in a bad way, just in a “di erent” way. The changes in myself and my friends are The changes in myself and my friends are the same: not bad, just di erent. They’re the same: not bad, just di erent. They’re probably good, if anything. It’s not human nature to be static. When we first arrived at Haylie’s house and reunited after months house and reunited after months apart, Val had joked that the Pinapart, Val had joked that the Pinocchio Hate Club was taking on its occhio Hate Club was taking on its “final form.” “You make us sound like Pokemon,” I teased her, but like Pokemon,” I teased her, but perhaps she was right. We’re still perhaps she was right. We’re still evolving, just like Pikachu. That evolution might mean feeling like evolution might mean feeling like a stranger in our own bed or eating overcooked turkey with friends on Black Friday, but it’s all growth. on Black Friday, but it’s all growth. It’s all change, whether we see it or not. It took me a drive down memory lane to realize it was happening. Maybe that should make me sad, but the idea of growth just makes me excited. “Home” is defi ned less by place than by people, so really, “home” is growing with me. It’s already expanded to encapsulate // ARIANE DE GENNARO the people I’ve met at Yale, in addition to the ones I love back in Pennsylvania. My physical “home” feels di erent, yes, but my “Home,” capital “H,” will always be the friends and family I love most. And if I ever get people-sick, I know the Pinocchio Hate Club is just a call away. Contact HANNAH KURCZESKI at hannah.kurczeski@yale.edu .

This Perfect Petit Monde

// BY ANABEL MOORE

I’ve long loved the way streets are deserted on Thanksgiving evening and Christmas morning. The world stops. To go anywhere alone down these eerie roads means you are running on an empty heart or a full stomach, neither particularly satiating, leaving the coziness of home perfectly definable. Family priorities feel so real and clear as the world folds itself into the indulgence of the holidays.

But my mom and I spent this Thanksgiving in Paris, wide boulevards already awash with the jewel tones and twinkling lights of Christmas. It was my first time in the city, despite having studied French since I was young, and my mom had only visited for a few days twenty years prior. It was a long overdue true vacation for us both. We ate our Thanksgiving dinner at a small brasserie across the street from the Louvre — I laugh, remembering my ridiculous art-history nerd exclamation in a gallery: “Mom, I’m so excited to see the ‘Gates of Hell!’” I had that one line from Abba’s “Our Last Summer” stuck in my head as we “walked along the Seine, laughing in the rain,” despite the barren trees and brisk breeze. We poked fun at overzealous selfie-takers even as we struggled to get a photo both of us liked; I translated phrases we saw as we walked, trying to teach my mom basic navigational words: right, left, straight ahead, stop, oh-my-god-what-is-thatdriver-doing-don’t-get-run-over.

The brasserie was poorly lit by yellow light, smelling of exhaust, cigarette smoke, steak and liquor. My mom and I were curious props in the dance of prim waiters carrying white wine. I felt steeped in the

Our waiter and I switched between French and English as we ordered; turns out he would be going to the U.S. in two

most bizarre blend of youth and age in this stale yet proper establishment, brought to life by the palpable buzz of the city. Even home, I feel a little less young than I did at this time last November. years — his second time ever — to complete training to be a pilot. Mon père était pilote, I told him. Vraiment? Quel petit monde. I felt no weariness at sharing old stories, a small world indeed.

My mom and I kept asking one another: “Can you believe it’s Thanksgiving?” The obvious answer was no — what even is Thanksgiving, without feasts and massive crowds at Costco, bizarre family disputes and the infamous post-gorge nap? But despite being in the heart of France, surrounded by Parisians going about their usual Thursday evening activities, “yes” was my undaunted response. I had my mom right in front of me, after the longest stretch of time in which I hadn’t seen her. We soaked in not just the touristy delights of restaurants and museums but the rich, bone-warming homeyness of nights spent sprawled on the hot pink hotel carpet, listening to Gary Clark Jr, Adele and Sinatra. We laughed and laughed at my terrible packing skills as bubbly conversations from the street below wafted up to our window until the “wee small hours” of the morning. Nights would end in dark chocolate, and I would find myself near tears, not with my usual stress but with joy. Ah, so this is happy. What a feeling. I haven’t valued laughter enough recently. Joy and gratitude are inexplicably intertwined, in a way I hope I’ll one day understand. For the first Thanksgiving in as long as I can remember, in a country that doesn’t even celebrate the holiday, I grasped gratitude with the // LIZZIE CONKLIN palm of my hand. I poured my heart, not into a communal cornucopia of plenty, but the small beloved space between my mom and me.

Contact ANABEL MOORE at anabel.moore@yale.edu .

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Every building on campus is too warm.