Natalie Eastwood - Staff Writer
Probably no one else cared about the dirty bowls that once collected on the back of a living room couch, but for two people, this was a very big deal.
Eyes, dark brown, almost black, peered between two sheaths of fabric. She said nothing that was not said through her gentleness as she took each of our hands in hers. The mother.
When Shippensburg University volleyball player Courtney Malott jumped to punch the ball back onto the other court, she did not know it would be about a year before her next game.
Eight years ago during his senior year at Shippensburg University, Matt Ramsay was roasting coffee in an air pop popcorn maker.
Shippensburg University’s trash cans overflow with recyclable items — Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donut cups, water bottles, cans and food containers all nestled in a bed of used napkins, stuck together with wads of gum and smeared with wasted drink and food.
If your lush and lively guests are crusting into brown twigs on your windowsill, it might be time to hang a sign on your door — “House Plant Graveyard: complete with trashcan burial alongside forgotten pizza leftovers and mystery takeout.”
Throughout the U.S., England and Australia, people will be searching for individuals who are so remote they lived in another lifetime, and yet so present their voices ring crisply and their translucent forms wisp through this world as if they were still breathing.
Many members of the African Student Association (ASA) can answer Shakira’s question, “Tsamina mina zangalewa,”— where do you come from — with 54 different answers because of the 54 different countries in Africa.
It is the same campus but with new people. It is reused pens and old, half-scribbled notebooks. It is a stack of textbooks that may or may not get read. It is the adventure that has not yet unfolded; the late nights that will surely pile up like fried food stacked onto Reisner plates. It is the final exam; it is the final year for many; it is the final first college semester for others.
One student’s passion began with Shippensburg University’s basic photography class, a rented camera and some advice from a wise and white-haired professor.