Emma Barbato

Contributor

Walking across Red Square between classes I often found myself avoiding the slightly uncomfortable side glances of various men and woman who had seen me in various states of undress.

I’m not positive they really recognized me; I mean I am wearing more than my bra, but that awkward uncertainty lurked right between my shoulder blades just the same. I wondered what the appropriate response was in this kind of situation.

Do I give them a “so-you-have-seen-my-nipples” smile, or maybe one of those “this-isn’t-that-unusual wavey nod” things. More often I pretended the whole naked ordeal never happened; it seemed like one of the classier options.

While I might like to say that yes, I am so outrageously seductive that I have had liaisons with scores of McDaniel’s student and teacher population, I really just don’t have that sort of energy.

I am a nude model – one of the few students on the fair Hill that wasn’t afraid to bare it all for the sake of art, literally. Well, and money; money is good too.

It’s not hard to sit in the art studio naked as the day you were born while students sketch or sculpt your various body parts. You often stare at the clock that is inevitably wrong, always wrong, your head filled with Glar, or rather, the regret of the taco salad an hour earlier.

The real trouble starts when the clothes go back on.

How do you look your boyfriend in the eyes and say, “Honey, I am going to get naked in front of your friends for money today.”

Honestly, it just sounds bad once your bra is securely fastened. Like many other aspects of college life, it’s just better when you are in the buff. And there is also the emotional turmoil you feel sitting in your apartment later that day as your roommate and his girlfriend, who happens to be one of your best friends, snuggle on the couch. You can’t but think, “Huh, he just stared at me in a thong for an hour. Does that classify as a breach of friendship? Should I go to confession?!”

These are the tough questions faced by student models everywhere.

It’s the clothed activities that really suffer once the paint brushes are put away.

When I contemplate the numerous times people have asked me how I could consider doing what I do, I think to myself, “How could I not? Nudity is the only relief I get these days.”

Cassidy Bryson

Staff Reporter

On a humid beach in Panama, I sat rubbing sand off my legs and wondering whether or not I really wanted another Margarita. I felt fatigued, sunburned and slightly annoyed by the toothless, beach-dwelling man who was currently hovering over me in effort to sell me cocaine. Needless to say, I was leaning towards yes on the second margarita.

I had been abroad for almost an entire year. I had spent the spring living in Budapest; stepping on sea-urchins on Croatian beaches, posing with fake-Gladiators outside of Roman ruins, having suave men buy me pints of beer in Ireland. I had been lucky enough to live with my closest friends in a European city. I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t a four month long party.

But my fall was different; a complete 180 from the urban trendiness of Europe. My fall was spent speaking Spanish in a small, rural town in Costa Rica. There, I spoke only Spanish, all day, everyday. All of my classes were about the Spanish language, taught solely in Spanish, by native Spanish-speakers. Overwhelming? Uh, yeah!

I will always remember my first day of classes in Costa Rica. I was nervous as all hell. It felt like kindergarten. I didn’t know what to wear. I tied and re-tied my shoes. I wondered if I’d make friends. I’d hoped my teachers would like me.

I had left my host-family’s house and walked out on to the poorly paved street. A large cow with a collar made of old, purple rope, stood there standing in the middle of the road, directly in front of my family’s home. The cow stared at me. It was stationary in the hot morning sunshine, with its soft-brown eyes affixed to my own. There was not a person in sight and I had no idea what to do. Should I touch this cow? Pull it by its cow-collar out of the street where it would most likely get hit by a car? Should I walk on by? Perhaps this was a stray cow…is there such a thing?

After about 10 seconds, a short, shirt-less man appeared running down the street. He ran directly up to the cow, yelling Spanish profanities and smacked it repeatedly on its head. He turned to me and apologized. Seeing as I was not Costa Rican, he spoke to me in adorable broken English. He explained that this was his family’s only cow. They had owned other cows but all of these cows had done just what this one was doing; escaped from their yard to stand in the street. These other cows had been hit by cars and died. He asked me, if I saw this cow again, could I please take it by the collar, and lead it back into his yard? I obliged and agreed to participate in the suicide-watch of this cow.

At least three times a week, I would leave for my classes and find the cow standing, immobile in the middle of the road. I would lead it back to its yard while telling her that she had so much to live for, that life as a cow couldn’t be that bad, that I was there for her, if ever she needed to talk.

Near the end of my semester there, the shirtless man’s family had saved up enough money to install a new fence around their yard. Thus, the cow was safely contained and my mornings of saving the cow’s life were over.

Before I left to return home to the US, the shirtless man approached me on the street. He hugged me and thanked me for all my help. He said that for all of my efforts to protect his cow, his family and he had decided to re-name the cow after me. Now although this may seem stupid and absurd, I felt so touched. My eyes welled up and I couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

While I sat on the beach in Panama, I thought hard on not only this cow-saving occurrence, but everything I’d experienced in the last year.

I had been nervous to come to a “third-world country” alone. Hell, I’d been nervous to go to Europe with a whole bunch of friends! I had expected things and people to be so extremely different outside of my safe, little American-girl world. But I found that anywhere you go in the world, people are people. When it comes down to it, we’re not so unlike each other. While we might think we’re different; divided by countries and religion, sexual preference or skin color, but no, we are all the same. We all fear, we all love and we all, sometimes, need help.

I’ve found that some of the most important things you can ever learn in life are best learned by stepping out of your comfort zone. It is so much easier to roll through life in a safe routine, then to take a chance. But in this rut, in this safe routine, how much do we ever really experience? How much do we really ever learn about ourselves?

So although things can get shitty, and although it’s much easier to be scared than to be brave, be willing to take a chance. Have faith. Take a breath. And order that second margarita. And if things get hard along the way, know that it is ok to ask for help. Whether its help starting a new life in a foreign country or just keeping your runaway cow in your own damn yard ; )

Karla Holland

Staff Reporter

The MARC train is Maryland’s primary commuter train system consisting of three branches. The Brunswick Line reaches west to Frederick Maryland and Martinsburg, West Virginia. The Penn Line travels east to Perryville in Cecil County, Maryland. The Camden Line connects Baltimore to Washington DC. Carroll County is the only county in Central Maryland with no physical connections to the state mass transit system.

If anything, the Marc train would prove essential to one of Westminster’s relative life sources–McDaniel College. Every year, students embark on a journey from hitching a ride from a friend, to train hopping from the Metro to the light rail before reaching the Amtrak itself. Since the Marc train already travels through the same stations as Amtrak, its inclusion would reduce a lot of these obstacles for out-of-state students without cars. Unfortunately, many graduations may come and go before McDaniel Students can enjoy the realization of a Westminster MARC train station.

The issue regarding Mass Transit in the County has less to do with basic necessity and more with the values of the local residents. For instance, there is currently a struggle between those who seek to preserve the county’s untouched rural character and those who believe it should adapt to the growing urbanization. At this year’s annual State of the County Luncheon, Commissioner Michael Zimmer explained that one side prefers national businesses to locate branches (and attract workers) into the county while others prefer to accommodate commuters. He added that with the onslaught of the recent recession is causing many residents to seek work outside the county. One side appears to be winning this long-time debate once and for all.

If Mr. Zimmer is right, and the county needs to meet these needs soon, there are alternatives to MARC. For example, as of February 2, 2009, York, Pennsylvania’s Rabbit Transit announced the launch of a commuter bus service which takes people across the state line to Timonium, Maryland in order to relieve traffic on I-83. Carroll has the CATS bus, which is efficient if a student needs to get around town, but there are still limits even to this long time county service. The CATS bus, along with the local gypsy cab services in the County (two so far) do not cross the county line, even for a fee. This fact becomes more frustrating knowing that cab services from neighboring Baltimore, Howard, and Frederick counties are willing to cross into Carroll if necessary.

For now, cars rule the county, but not all people drive, especially students and workers. Businesses will only go where the environment accommodates them and their workers’ welfare. Many students at McDaniel don’t even have cars, so what are they to do? If Carroll County wants to preserve their businesses, and their prime institution, they will have to give in order to get.

Marissa Graff

Staff Reporter

This is the first edition of ‘Deaf Savvy’, a place where Deaf Culture can be discussed, questions asked and answers provided. Deaf Awareness month on McDaniel Campus starts March 22nd and continues through April 16th. To celebrate Deaf Culture I would like to share some insights, interesting quotes/facts/trivia, and answer any questions this campus might have about Deaf Culture and ASL. There may be occasions where I won’t know the answer and will enlist the knowledge of some Deaf friends or experts.

“Deaf communities had theatrical societies, literary circles, masquerade balls, organized debates, sports teams, and travel groups. The deaf culture had that had taken root in the schools for deaf children cropped up all across the country in deaf clubs for adults. People came together to sign, to help each other, and, quite simply, to have a good time,” said Lasander Saunders in Through Deaf Eyes

Deaf Culture is more than a common bond of not being able to hear; it’s filled with Deaf humor, music, art, poetry, literature, linguistic styles, a rich history and a common heritage. The Deaf Studies program at McDaniel prides itself on its bi-lingual approach, stressing the importance of knowing and mastering both English and American Sign Language (ASL). We have a community of Deaf and Hard of Hearing undergraduates and graduates as well as Professors. There are classes taught completely in ASL that impress upon the values of Deaf Culture and history. It is because of one of those classes that I am writing this article. For the next few weeks I welcome and encourage you to email me with questions, comments, myths, or anything that you want to be discussed and I will try to comment or get someone else to comment on the subject. I hope we can all learn and have a respectful discussion about Deaf Culture.

-Marissa Graff may be reached at mag008@mcdaniel.edu

Shared Dream

By: Emma Kartalia

(Elementary Student at William Winchester Elementary, Winner of Martin Luther King, Jr. Writing Contest)

So many years ago America knew a man.

A man who gave his life for freedom,

for friendship.

A man who had a dream.

A dream that I now share.

Peace, harmony.

I try to do small things,

Small things that will help peace prevail.

I hear crying on the playground,

its exclusion, disruption.

It is disruption of the peace,

The peace some have tried to savor.

Like that man so long ago the girl down on the playground knows

how it is to be looked down upon.

Distress anger.

I stood up for that girl.

I stood up for harmony.

I stood up for others,

Just as the man with a dream did so long ago.

Pride, triumph.

To this day I remember that moment.

It gave me strength.

It gave me courage.

I will always remember the shared dream.

J. Ellis

Staff Reporter

“I stood up for harmony,” is the phrase that continues to resonate in my mind days after McDaniel’s dinner celebration in honor of the Reverend King. Almost 57 years ago Dr. King envisioned an America that would one day realize its self evident truth-that all men regardless of race, creed, or color are equal. Today his legacy lives on.

As I sit in a room full of women and men, black, white, and shades in between, I cannot help but to think of how far WE, as a nation and as a world, have come since that day in late summer of 1963.

My mind goes back to Mahalia Jackson’s song “We Shall Overcome” which became the soundtrack of The Civil Rights Movement. She sings “…We are not afraid, everything’s gonna’ be alright…” For it was per Jackson’s request, that day at The Lincoln Memorial, that King share with the crowd ‘the dream’ that he’d had.

And on this day, February 1st, 1960, four black students from North Carolina Agricultural and Technical College performed their non-violent “sit-in” at The F.W. Woolworth Company’s all-white lunch counter.

There is no other place that I would rather be at this moment in time then celebrating the lives of those who fought to eliminate social injustice. To achieve the social harmony that Emma so eloquently speaks of: The Little Rock Nine, Mahalia Jackson, Thurgood Marshall, Mary McLeod Bethune, Linda Brown, Medgar Evers, Jackie Robinson, John F. Kennedy, and so many others that go unrecognized. Their contribution, no matter how big or how small, is living proof of a shared dream that in 2010 has come to fruition.