Volume 16 Issue 2
Erik Beserra
Lockdowniversary

A year ago I stared at the numbers rising on the New York Times website. Every day I found myself feeling more inept as 10,000 became 20,000 became 40,000 became 80,000. I stared at the numbers like a moth at lights. Inept and discouraged. I still feel inept. I now have a tab with the New York Times vaccine distribution map. It is weird staring at this good news. Some part of me doesn’t feel hopeful since this is just what needs to be done. We failed and are now picking up the pieces.

Lockdowniversary
Volume 15 Issue 3
Lauren Mondroski
Dying to Get Outside? A Grave History of Hiking ...

This was before the establishment of large public parks, meaning that if you were a Victorian-era urban American, you most likely spent your time outdoors strolling and picnicking with family, friends, and lovers, all amidst the dead.

Dying to Get Outside? A Grave History of Hiking and Cemeteries
Volume 15 Issue 2
Allison Wallace
A list of good: a good list to make

· Arriving
· The first song you listen to through headphones
· When a good bakery has good tea (the complete experience)
· The crisp, blue outlines of the hills here in Western Oregon

A list of good: a good list to make
Volume 15 Issue 2
Nerissa Wright
Seek Discomfort

Portland is a peculiar white haven, and I come from a melting pot that smells like urine year-round. Both are good, but very different.

Seek Discomfort
Volume 14 Issue 1
Lauren Mondroski
Spoiler Alert: There Is No Coming of Age

Released on August 25, 2020, Haley Blais’ Below the Salt is an album I wish I had during my first year of college. Coincidentally, that’s when I first started listening to Blais, a Vancouver-based singer-songwriter and vlogger whose wacky sense of humor and DIY bedroom-pop bangers resonated with me, a freshman living on her own for the very first time and trying to make sense of the world and herself. That unsure first-year is a senior now, but no less unsure, and I think that’s the point of Blais’ debut album: her label writes, “Below the Salt is a coming of age story that recognizes that there is no real ‘coming of age.’”

Spoiler Alert: There Is No Coming of Age

Here I Sit, Cheeks a-Flexin': Campus Bathroom Reviews, Part One

Here I Sit, Cheeks a-Flexin': Campus Bathroom Reviews, Part One

Now, I don’t like to complain about the most essential room in the house. In the words of a long-vanished graffito from the downstairs GCC bathrooms, “Thank Uncle Sam we’re free 2 pee.” I appreciate being able to refresh myself indoors, in private, without getting cold or leaving a mess behind for my fellow community members. Just imagine if there were no bathrooms on campus—it’d be a dis-ass-ter. But sometimes, after a long day, you need that added bit of comfort and security that comes with a really pleasant toilet experience. Life is just better if you’ve got a light and airy atmosphere to keep you cheerful as you evacuate and some encouraging graffiti to speed you on your way.

Renovating Reed's Future

When asked her opinion on the swift progress that has recently been made on plans to establish a child care center at Reed, Ad Hoc Committee On Child Care at Reed College chair Gail Sherman’s (english, 1981–) first response is pure joy. “Its so exciting!” she says. “It feels great, and it feels like everything really lined up . . . . once the Performing Arts Building was constructed . . . there was an ability to look at the long-term needs of the college.”

Professor Reading Recommendations

Professor Reading Recommendations

Here we go, gang, coming into the home stretch. The last days of the fall semester. There we are, crouching in some godforsaken corner of the library, the taste of adrenaline on our tongues, and a singular desire on our minds: finish strong on our finals and head home for some well-deserved television watching and non-specific-winter-holiday celebrating. Imagine this, though, Reedie, if you dare. Two weeks into winter break you sit in front of your computer and browse your Netflix instant queue, but come up short. Its empty! Then you remember this amazing thing you used to know about, something you spent hour upon youthful hour engrossed in, protesting when your mother insisted you busy yourself with another activity for a scant thirty minutes. Reading! You gaze over at your well-worn book shelf and ponder, what should you pick up to peruse as you sit in front of a crackling fire and intermittently gaze out at the snow-speckled landscape on this wintry afternoon? Thankfully, your beloved professors will answer that question for you! Check out these recommendations from some of our esteemed faculty for your winter reading pleasure, and head to Reedthegrail.com for a more comprehensive list.

Divestment Through the Ages

Divestment Through the Ages

Students’ struggle to effect social change through Reed College and its endowment is not new. In the 1980s students fought to have the college divest from South Africa and last year students continued to fight for social change and urged Reed to divest from fossil fuels.

Igor Vamos ’90, chosen to give their commencement address by the Class of 2014, announced that the College would completely divest its $500 million endowment of fossil fuels. Reedies rejoiced over the good news — what many students campaigned for and believed in —  and announced it to their friends and family online. But just hours later the Reed community received an email dashing its hopes of divestment. Vamos’ culture-jamming political activism group, Yes Men, had planned the prank with Fossil Free Reed.

Seeking Justice

Seeking Justice

Monday night’s announcement of the grand jury decision not to indict Darren Wilson, the police officer who shot and killed Michael Brown in Ferguson, MO on August 9 of this year, left people across the country, and across our campus, with deeply felt emotions ranging from devastation, to rage, to fear. In light of this paralyzing news, though, many were compelled to act, standing up for the justice they do not think was achieved in the courts.

Living Was Fun: The Lost Lambert Gardens

Living Was Fun: The Lost Lambert Gardens

The sign is the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before I sleep. Bland bold letters on a background of bloody maroon, negating my future, telling me this is the best it will ever get, assuring me that this is really an English country estate and not the epitome of everything faceless and inhuman in architecture. This Escherian labyrinth of concrete angles and rotting wood, enlivened only by the occasional hippie tapestry, each apartment an inversion of another, all disintegrating in the drizzle and surmounted by a pair of drifting, deflated balloons, is my castle and my tomb. LIVING IS FUN (but only) AT WIMBLEDON.

Marisol

Marisol

Spread across a piece of clear plastic curtain at the outset of the Reed College Theatre’s production of Jose Rivera’s Marisol, directed by Catherine M’ing Tien Duffly, is the following graffiti: “When I drop my wings, all hell’s going to break loose and soon you’re not going to recognize the world - so get yourself some power Marisol, whatever you do.” As the dark, ominous, bass-heavy music that makes up much of Peter Ksander’s sound design echoes through the blackbox theatre we hear the familiar sound of a spray paint bottle clicking as an angel (India Hamilton) implores the audience to “WAKE UP!” The audience is quickly immersed in Rivera’s dark dreamworld, rendered in all its perverse glory by the stage designers, as the Marisol (Aziza Afzal), a young Puerto Rican woman, narrowly escapes an assault from a man with a golf club (Kevin Snyder) in a shaking and flickering subway into the snowy streets of her home, the Bronx. We learn her guardian angel, the one from the prelude scene, was the one who stopped the man and many others through Marisol’s life as she navigates the dangerous Apocalyptic New York streets. She is leaving Marisol now, going to make war against an aging and senile God whom she blames for causing the environmental catastrophes, economic declines, and widespread war the play takes as its background. Hamilton’s performance is at its best in some of the more touching moments between her character and Marisol. While some of her scheming does not seem to be at the level of anger requisite for war on God, she always brings through the misgivings we should have about even higher order spiritual powers in Rivera’s New York. Marisol’s quest to wake up and see the world for what it really is, is made more difficult by the strangeness of that world and the widespread distrust and paranoia of the people who inhabit it. Not to mention, perhaps worst of all, coffee has gone extinct.

Moving Pictures: Ralph Lemon

Moving Pictures: Ralph Lemon

I’ll admit it, I showed up late to the show. I had been told a dancer was performing, but as soon as I entered I knew Ralph Lemon would not be dancing that night.

Projected on the screen in the Performance Lab was a video, muted, of a black man sobbing. The audience sat in silence and watched while Lemon watched as well. Seated beside a small table near the right side of the room, Lemon was illuminated by a desktop lamp, as were his chair and his papers. Other than that bulb and the crying man, the room was dark.

Philosophical Society Achieves Ataraxia

Philosophical Society Achieves Ataraxia

It’s a Wednesday night and 20 students gather in Vollum not for a movie, or to discuss finances, but as the email sent out to all of them announced: “to situate the role of virtues in Epicurean hedonism once and for all.” Sent by the organization’s founder and the speaker for the night, Elise Woodard ’15, the phrase, following a description of what hedonism and virtue mean in the context of Epicureanism, and followed by a note stating “Epicurean delicacies will be served” relates the two main objectives of the club: providing a space for presentations of philosophically relevant arguments and creating an inclusive atmosphere for students of all disciplines who are interested in philosophical topics to evaluate and discuss the argument as presented. Woodard notes that “I don’t know of any other group [on campus] like us; we’re not doing political organizing, we’re not deciding on things to do outside of campus. I think the Philosophical Society is unique in being an academic club where you evaluate and discuss arguments. I think philosophy lends itself pretty well to this, it does things piecemeal, and each presentation is of stand-alone arguments that don’t require a lot of background knowledge.” Still, a lot of thought has gone into how the meetings should be structured.

 

Big Toe Brings The Body for Halloween Show

Big Toe Brings The Body for Halloween Show

NPR recently published a small piece that asked the question, “Where’s All the Good Halloween Music?” In it, someone sent in an email to the All Songs Considered offices and pondered why Christmas has so many (by which I mean far, far too many) songs associated whereas Halloween has, well, “Monster Mash.” The writer, Stephen Thompson, responded by listing a couple of “spooky” bands, like Timber Timbre and Dead Man’s Bones (yes, that Ryan Gosling band).

Regardless of how good these bands are, they are Halloween-scary in the same way that my mother’s choice in October lawn decorations are Halloween-scary. As I have been writing about this, NPR (god bless ’em) have posted another Halloween-centric music piece, this time a “Question of the Week” asking “What Are The Most Terrifying Songs Of All Time?” And the top result? Sufjan Stevens, with “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” Okay, well there are a couple ways to define ‘terrifying,’ I suppose.

The Faux Museum: Anything but Phony

The Faux Museum: Anything but Phony

Another couple of tourists wander into Tom Richards’s Faux Museum and peruse the gift shop. They take in the collections of vintage books and postcards, the spinning prize wheel, the bright colors, and the jauntily angled visitor testimonials on the walls. After a minute or two, Tom tells them that there’s a museum back behind the partition. “A critical thinking museum with a sense of humor.”

“We just came from a museum,” one says.

“Oh yeah? Which museum?”

“The Portland Art Museum.”

“Never heard of it,” Tom says. “But this is the oldest museum in the world.”

The Role of Sexual Assault Prevention and Response Advocates

The Role of Sexual Assault Prevention and Response Advocates

There is a lot of discussion around Reed College these days about what our response to sexual assault on campus is going to look like this year and the years to come. I am a Sexual Assault Prevention and Response Advocate; I work for the Sexual Assault Prevention and Response program. Hopefully, I can start answering some of the questions that the community has about our response to these incidents. Obviously, I do not have answers to all of the questions that are being asked on campus, but I do feel that providing information about our program will be helpful for campus discussions. I want the student body to be as involved as everyone wants to be because this is such a far-reaching and important topic.

Do Reedies Dream of Excellent Sheep?

Do Reedies Dream of Excellent Sheep?

I am worried about preaching to the choir,” Bill Deresiewicz says, smiling. Garnering a few laughs, this remark set the tone for the following lecture and Q & A session. Deresiewicz began his lecture with a genesis story: how his new book Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite and the Way to a Meaningful Life came to be. Beginning with praise for his critical essay “The Disadvantages of an Elite Education,” Deresiewicz described the letters of agreement he received from both students and faculty at schools all across America. His basic premise is this: the “Elite” academies, such as the much-bemoaned Ivy League Institutions, produce not good citizens, but anxious, unfulfilled, business professionals.

Annelyse Gelman: Returning to Reed

Annelyse Gelman: Returning to Reed

If I were to make a list of certifiable coolgirls, Annelyse Gelman ’13 would certainly be on it. During her time at Reed she could be found showing off her academic prowess in the psychology department, fervently discussing poetry with English professors, and improvising as a bunch of ducks in a human-suit in Fellatio Rodriguez shows. Since graduating, Gelman has been busy working on artistic pursuits, including publishing a book of poems, animating videos, and playing music with her band. Last Saturday night, she returned to campus to share some of her work at a poetry and music show she organized in Eliot Hall.

I Bleed for Porches

I Bleed for Porches

Aaron Maine’s first riff reverberates as I reach into my backpack. My hand dives into a vast puddle of Lagunitas, grinding against several shards. He takes an assertive step towards the microphone. Those of us standing in front glance at each other in anticipation. And then he gives us what we want. “I give you he-aaaaad / be-fore you he-aaaaad / to the-ra-pyyyy” resounds from the speakers, amplified by a chorus of boisterous audience members. Many drunkenly mimic Maine’s endearing hip-jerk and head sway. I am vaguely aware of the blood gushing from my left hand, but I haven’t the slightest impulse to relinquish my front-row standing. The guitar lulls. I swiftly unroll my knee sock, wrapping it tightly around my broken-beer-bottle-induced laceration just in time for the chorus. The SU erupts with, “what did you do when you want-ed to di-iiiiie.”

Land Bridge Over Troubled Water

Land Bridge Over Troubled Water

Most Reed students have heard tales from Canyon Day’s past, when the celebrated century-old tradition meant something entirely different than it does today. From unsolicited lake crossings to burning native vegetation, the Canyon suffered innumerable blows at the hands of Reed students and staff members alike. All this effort was, of course, an attempt to “tame” the natural space and convert it into a park more reminiscent of Victorian-era Hyde Park than 1920’s Portland. As David Mason’s ’58 Biology thesis cites, even early on the College had a fascination with altering the natural area. According to him, the Reed College Record in 1912 stated: “through the center of the campus, east and west, is a wooded ravine, which, in the course of development of the grounds, will be made a picturesque lake.” I know the lake is picturesque now but the early Reedies had a drastically different take on what the word picturesque meant. Canyon Day aside, none of the misdirected machinations of students during the early 1900’s compare to what is arguably the most destructive construction project to be completed in the Canyon: the community pool.

How to Get a Double-A in HUM 110

How to Get a Double-A in HUM 110

Back at Olde Reed, the story goes, professors would occasionally hand down a letter grade known as the Double A. The AA was only awarded to the true scholar, to that one heroic student in a generation whose insight truly stunned the faculty. My friends in the Registrar’s Office claim the AA no longer exists — but can a legend ever really die? I think the Class of 2018 is ready to rise to the challenge. If you’re prepared to find out for yourself whether the prized grade persists to this day, here are my suggestions for a truly transcendent Hum 110 experience.

Hallowed Ground

Hallowed Ground

The Grove dormitories are an integral part of the Reed campus. Sleek and modern, these beautiful structures house some 120 Reed students, and are a symbol of Reed’s ongoing march into the future. Like Naito, Sullivan, and Bragdon, the Grove is a fixture in the College’s recent developmental push, which has been creeping northward to SE Steele St. since the middle of the last century. While the current landscape of the Cross-Canyons seems immutable and natural, the development of land north of the Canyon has been a decades-long process, fraught with legal controversy, clashing interests, and environmental concerns. In particular, the land beneath the Grove has undergone some of the most dramatic transformations over the last century, most recently, in 2007, with the destruction Portland’s greatest community garden.

Ben There II

Ben There II

My freshman year dorm room overlooked the front lawn from the third floor of Winch. O-week was unusually gorgeous, with the sun beaming, and from my perch I watched the hacky sack and frisbee circles that I was barred from being part of. The doxycycline confined me from sunlight (see last week’s “Ben There” at reedthegrail.com) so I either paced my room or took solo walks through the canyon. The roommate of my divided double was a junior who, being abroad, had missed out on the housing lottery. When he arrived after O-week he vetoed democratic process and usurped the mutually desired inner room. “I didn’t want a roommate but they were out of singles,” he told me.