Opinions

Do Not Remember This Column
Column, Opinions

Do Not Remember This Column

I’m terrified of losing my memory. Genetically, it feels almost inevitable. My mom’s family has a history of Alzheimer’s disease, while my dad’s family has a history of brain tumors. Both sides also had members who struggled with alcoholism—another indicator of poor brain health in old age.

Breaking Out of the BC Bubble
Column, Opinions

Breaking Out of the BC Bubble

“He felt that Boston College was a gated community for white people.” Those words, casually mentioned by the nurse to explain why her son did not attend Boston College, hit me like a brick wall. As a nursing student in my population health clinical, I was placed at an elementary school in Lower Roxbury.

Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down: Week of Feb. 9
Opinions, TU/TD

Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down: Week of Feb. 9

It’s been a winter wonderland lately. It seems like every day we are getting winter storm warnings and waking up to snow covering the ground. Stokes and Gasson are looking as beautiful as ever coated in white. This also means many fun winter activities: sledding, building snowmen, and snowball fights.

Letter to the Editor: Silence is Not Violence
Letters To The Editor

Letter to the Editor: Silence is Not Violence

Nick Voll’s recent op-ed, “BC Alum and U.S. Senator Ed Markey’s Inauguration Absence Was Undemocratic,” makes a number of disingenuous comparisons that merit correction.

Mr. Voll begins by acknowledging the January 6th riots as “attacks, which directly threatened the lives of several Capitol police officers and members of Congress.” He cites the “left-leaning” arguments that Donald Trump “questioned” the fair election (a generous term for the concerted campaign of proven falsehoods to undermine it) and leveraged his political office for personal gain.

Across the Pond: Childhood Dreams and Double-Decker Buses
Column, Opinions

Across the Pond: Childhood Dreams and Double-Decker Buses

London has been a dream of mine since childhood. It was a place I saw in storybooks and movies, dotted with grand palaces and cherry red double-decker buses. Hollywood’s version convinced me that it was the pinnacle of perfection, at least in the eyes of my younger self.

Standing in Maloney Hall on that dull February day, I was overcome with excitement, knowing I would finally get to live out the life 11-year-old Makayla had always dreamed of.

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