Word: lifes
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...class members. In Jim’s 25th reunion report, he’s forced pleasantly into the medium: “[My] daughters—who each weave their magic as artists, athletes, poets, entertainers, and sprites that dance in the summer night—have enriched my life beyond my wildest expectations.” He writes with precision and poignancy of finding peace on Long Island beaches, gardening with his daughters and biking alone...
...them for four days? But she did go, at least for an event or two, and she concedes that it was nice. She’s quiet for a minute and then she says, “It’s kind of fun in the moment, but afterwards, life goes right back to normal...
There is a lot of “life has been good to me.” Someone says, “I enjoy the fribble.” And “I feel extraordinarily grateful for the past 25 years.” There is Kimberly C. who goes on for pages and pages: “On some levels, I am exactly where I thought I would be at this point in my life.” There is David C., whose entire entry reads, “LAST KNOWN ADDRESS: XXXX Fox St., Riverside...
...said about “The Red Books,” as the Class Reports are called, “If you ever look through them, it’s like they’re the Book of Life. They tell all these anecdotes. I’m always exhausted staying up all night reading them.” It’s true: the books hold everything in them about the alumni experience. What it means to find the world. What it feels like to be mediocre, or not. Above all, the process of growing distant...
After all, we spend every single Friday and Saturday night selflessly—no, heroically—risking life and liver to convince Facebook that Harvard students aren’t robots, programmed exclusively to study, pass exams, and engage in occasional human interaction. So leave the robots on the awkward dance floor of your middle school gymnasium, or at least in Lamont; don’t force us to fight them on the midnight shuttle. Otherwise Harvard College Standup Society’s “robololz”, funny as it is, might leave us in robotearz...