It's hard to believe that in 1982, while I was a teenager enjoying Reese's pieces at my local theater (for one dollar admission!) watching E.T.
The giant sucking sound one hears on the Princeton campus in the late fall has nothing to do with Ross Perot's predictions about NAFTA; it is made by a huge leaf-scrunching machine proudly deployed by the grounds men and synchronized to move about campus in unison with the schedule of my course lectures.
On Sunday, April 28, the Special Olympics will once again take place at Princeton University and the organizers are looking for volunteers to help the games run smoothly.
A few days ago, I stopped at a table in Frist to grab some free candy. You know the drill: read an article or sign a petition and get a Hershey's kiss for your trouble.
To the most devoted of baseball fans, two particular days in the early spring bring only the best of feelings.
Recently, the Student Volunteers Council has become aware of confusion as to the role of the SVC on campus.
Two tickets to Madame Butterfly: $200. Worn-out pair of khakis: $0. Sweater that's seen better days: $0.
Reconsidering Self-hatredIt is ironic that Pini Gurfil, who accuses Jewish critics of Israeli policies in the occupied territories of "self-hatred" (Daily Princetonian, April 3) is himself indebted to the most virulently anti-Semitic topoi used by the Nazis.To speak of the "Jewish people" as having "long been cursed" should give the shivers to anyone with a modicum of historical consciousness.
I must admit, I wasn't fully prepared. Even after more than six months of anticipating how I would feel when I actually saw it, the first sight still left me dumbstruck.
Do you remember those games in "Highlights" magazine that you used to play in doctors' waiting rooms?
With the culmination Monday of March Madness and the Final Four, two words still linger at the forefront of every hoop fan's brain: Alaa Abdelnaby.
When I told my parents I did something religious on Easter Sunday, they were shocked. I could see them at home, wondering what kind of transformation had befallen me in college.
Last week, I performed an experiment. I guess this isn't so surprising given my B.S.E. status, but this one was actually sort of relevant to the student population at large.
On Self-Hatred and TerrorOn the evening of Wednesday, March 27 2002, the Seder, the dinner that celebrates the first night of Passover, was held by Jews worldwide.
We all know that one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, but must language wither away entirely in the face of political and military conflict?
A jazz band plays as crowds gather in the hall. People stand in a long line for the coat check. The chefs arrange hors d'oeuvres on buffet tables.
A political leader, by virtue of the office, must mediate between two dichotomous personas that determine the nature of policy enacted.
Despite my recent acceptance into the Woodrow Wilson School, with which, I admit I am rather pleased, I cannot help feeling uncomfortable that many qualified and ambitious fellow students were rejected.
This month marks the one-year anniversary of the Harvard Sit-In, the daring occupation of Harvard's Mass Hall perpetrated by students protesting Harvard's "poverty wages." In April 2001, Harvard (like Princeton) was paying very low wages to some of its workers in spite of the high cost of living in the Cambridge area.
Great-grandmother Pearlie Rucker is hardly the kind of person who one would expect to find on the wrong side of the law.
