But before I get ahead of myself, let me boogie on back to the beginning: Boston, the night of October 28th. I left work at my normal time and rode the train home as I usually do. When I got to the station in my town I ran over to my already packed car and drove directly to New Brunswick. Nothing like a four hour race to Jersey after a long day of work with Issac Brock, Jimi Hendrix, and the Eagles of Death Metal for company. I slept soundly that night after splitting a bottle of chianti with my hosts, who always put up with my silliness whenever I come to New Jersey.

The next day, a friend and former writer for the JVP met me at 8am. We visited the bank to exchange a bag of coins for cash, grabbed some pancakes at the Palace Diner, then hit the road by 9:30am. By the time we got to Baltimore, the party music was already bumping. We arrived at Alex G’s apartment around 1pm. The drive was shorter than I had anticipated. Somehow Alex managed to get us a serious hookup for parking. My little Masshole Jetta sat by itself in the half circle in front of his huge apartment building for the entire time we were in D.C. Thank you Alex.

After catching our breathe, resting our feet, and snacking to the tune of Nas for two hours, we set off on what would become a twelve hour drinking marathon. The only word to describe the nature of our situation during that time other than belligerent is excessive. Perhaps youth is cruel after all, or is it whiskey?

Regardless, youth is what got us out of bed the next day, armed with breakfast sandwiches, coffees, waters, cameras, film, and, of course, my press pass. While my driving buddy survived the twelve hour marathon, he did not make it to the Rally in time to meet up with Alex and I, so the two of us embarked on our mission to find a good spot at the Rally.

This endeavor proved to be most difficult. There were, literally, hundreds of thousands of people descending upon the National Mall for this Rally. When we realized that planting ourselves with a good view among the enthusiastic crowd was not going to work, we made our way outside the designated areas for the public attendees, and up toward the stage (which was about 5 blocks away). We took turns leading the way through the swarms of excited people; there were tons of young people, many in costume or carrying signs. I could say that young people made up the majority of the crowd, but I’d be lying to you. So in the interest of truth, I’ll tell you what I really saw. I saw babies– yes, infants– and their parents, and their grandparents, and their aunts, uncles, neighbors, their teachers, their preachers, and their future college professors. Every kind of person these babies will meet in their lives was at the Rally– except for Glen Beck, of course. I didn’t see him there, except on the giant TV screens when Jon and Stephen showed us what the platform of fear in the media looks like.

After forty-five minutes of weaving through the largest and most diverse collection of people I have ever seen or been a part of, Alex and I finally made it to the Press entrance. A press pass goes a long way, let me tell you. The security official inspected my pass and waved me to enter. I told him that my camera man (pointing to Alex) was also with me. The guard let us both through to the spacious, guarded press section, which came equipped with its private selection of portable potties! We were not only in great audio range of the stage, but our view was direct and close to it as well. We could actually see Cat Stevens and Ozzy Osborne perform together. We could really see Kareem Abdul Jabar come on stage to prove a point to Colbert on behalf of Jon Stewart: that he cannot make generalized statements about all Muslims hating Americans because it is simply false. We actually got to see Tony Bennett sing “God Bless America”; and we, or at least I, sang along with him.

Alex and I were lucky. We did not have to climb a tree, or climb on top of portable potties (even collapsed ones), or sit on each other’s shoulders to get a good view. We were not those people who tried to jump a guarded fence to find a better place to stand.

When Jon Stewart came out to make his speech, he thanked us all for coming out, and appeared to be humbled by the size of the crowd that had responded to his call. If I had to wager a guess as to how large the crowd was, I’d say there were at least a few hundred thousand in attendance. Still, that feels like a modest guess. After having been in that crowd, and having had a good enough view to see the magnitude of it, I would even go so far as to say that half a million people were there. Look at this shot, which was taken after the Rally had ended and we had walked several blocks away from the National Mall:

Consider this: the crowd you see in this photo is only a fraction of the people who attended. This is just one boulevard going off in one direction away from the Rally.

As soon as Stewart started talking, the crowd quieted down immediately and gave him their utmost attention. The level of respect for the man that I witnessed among the crowd was grand. More than anything, it was uplifting to see, to witness in real life how one person can reach across generations, ethnicities, religious backgrounds, and states, to peaceably unite an enormous group of people. There was an electricity in the air as he talked to us and grew more passionate. He talked about how every day in this country people find a way to take care of their responsibilities while working together; the only place this spirit of ‘working together’ does not occur is in government. He talked about how the outlet for people to express their grievances and their discontents with our government, the media, is the system that is broken. As Stewart talked to us, he moved around a lot on stage, gesturing with his hands as he grew more passionate. And while his passion was obvious, it was not overwhelming. It was just right, in fact.

Not surprisingly, when I got back to Massachusetts, people had hardly heard anything about the Rally, only what they’d heard prior to the event taking place. The question about the Rally that I answered more than any other was some version of this: “Was it really like Woodstock where everyone was… you know… (puts pointer finger and thumb to mouth to mimic smoking a joint)?” My answer: “No. It wasn’t like that at all. Not even in the slightest. People were there for the cause, not for music or for drugs. The spirit and energy of the crowd alone made that obvious.” What can I say really? People were attentive, respectful, eager to listen, and generally speaking, in good spirits. They really were. And as a result I felt connected to the people around me, even though I quite obviously knew none of them (except for Alex of course). For the first time in my short life I experienced that feeling of connectedness on such a large scale. The feeling is non-replicable.

But now reality settles in again. The media will (and did) treat the Rally as they see fit, not as it was. And while I felt inspired and empowered by Stewart and the atmosphere of the Rally, I find that at present, I have never felt more discouraged or powerless. Why the contradictory feelings, you might ask? Because here I am, sitting at my desk, writing this article, and I know that the connectedness is gone. Why is it gone? Because now, a week later, when the Rally has been successfully buried by the mass media, all I can feel is ignored. I feel belittled. And more so now than ever, I feel like change is neither imminent, nor possible.

Perhaps this is the great downfall of all political movements: what to do when the Rally is over. What do we do after we disperse and return home? How do we keep the spirit alive when our platform to do so, the media, refuses to acknowledge it, refuses to cover it, as if it never happened at all? A tree did fall in the forest. I was there to hear it. Hundreds of thousands of people were there to hear that tree fall. And yet, here we are, a week later, and no one knows that tree was there in the first place. It is a sad day for America when thousands of eager voices come together to be heard as one and someone turns the volume off.

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Original Publication Date: 11.08.2010

The downhill vomitorium is an effective analogy of what my relationship with the JVP was like when Alex was around: I’d make my way to Alex’s, tell him everything I’d thought about that week, he would give me his insights, I’d mull over his take, and a few days later I’d have my latest article.

While Alex might be in law school and no longer physically around to chat about my latest piece, his presence is always felt whether it be in his comments, guidance, or ever-growing legacy as a contributor. And while this Q and A isn’t the same as having Alex around full time, it’ll have to hold you over for now.

What brought you to Rutgers? The State of New Jersey. I didn’t put a whole lot of thought into where I would be going to college. Rutgers offered me a quick and cheap option with no fuss. I took it primarily out of convenience and now I’m glad I did.

In JV Press On, you said your high school guidance counselor said you were lucky to get into Rutgers. Why was that? Simply because I didn’t shop around for schools or put much effort into the admission process at all…

How’d you decide on your major(s)? My first semester classes were laid out for me upon arrival. One of them was Introduction to Ethics, taught by Professor Ruth Change. I loved the material as well as the professor, and I got really into the class. (I recommend to anybody taking a class with her if you can). It was such a good experience that I signed up for more philosophy classes and a major just followed from there.

I also undertook a history major later on in my undergrad career. Around junior year, I realized that I already had quite a few history credits under my belt simply as a result of taking classes I was interested in and that had been recommended to me, most notably among these Professor Phil Roth’s classes in Luso-Hispanic Dialogue and Colonial History. He’s an excellent professor who’s extremely knowledgeable in his field, and I’d definitely recommend taking his class if you can.

For the most part, my major selections were happy coincidences.

What about history and philosophy clicked with you? Argument. The two topics take slightly different approaches, but in the end, they are all about argument. Crafting arguments is something I’ve been naturally drawn to since I was a little kid. That, and the material is interesting. Of course, it’s easier to sit down and read something if you’re interested in the topic. Historical and philosophical writings can be very interesting.

What’s your relationship with writing? What’s my relationship with writing? That is a tough one…

Writing is just another means of communication. Objectively, there isn’t really anything special about writing that makes it any better or worse than any other form of expression or means of communication. What is important is that people are communicating, expressing themselves, because this is how we as humans learn and share, build societies, and get things done.

Personally, I prefer to express myself in writing as opposed to in person. I always feel more confident in an expression of my opinions and positions when I’ve had the chance to sit down and think about them first. Writing them out gives me the opportunity to do that. I also really enjoy the satisfaction I get from producing a quality piece of writing. And of course, it’s a nice feeling to know that my writing is improving all the time.

On the other hand, I have a tendency to labor over my writing. I invest a lot of time and emotional energy when I write, which is good for the final product, but it can also be very draining. In order to improve your writing you have to keep pushing the limits of your ability, which can really stress you out while you’re doing it. Having worked with a number of writers, I get the feeling that really good writing comes more naturally to some people: personally, I’m not one of them. I’ve had to put in quite a few hours to get anywhere. But in the end, it’s like anything: practice makes improvement.

What sort of aspirations did you have growing up and which of these, if any, are you putting the most effort into making a reality? When I was real little, I wanted to be a scientist, an archeologist or an engineer. Clearly, those aspirations ended when I took up philosophy, and especially when I committed to law school, although I sometimes regret giving them up…

Growing up, I always found different ways to make money. I always had a new scheme, some more effective than others. That ambition has stuck with me to this day. In the short term, I’m focused on establishing a comfortable living for myself and my family. In the long run, I’d like to be able to transition from a more lucrative but stressful lifestyle to a more peaceful, self sustaining lifestyle. I’d like to retire to a farm and grow produce for myself in the next thirty years. I’d love to be surrounded by a natural setting using my hands to produce real products. But that is more an ideal than a goal. We’ll see what happens….Right now, I’m focused on entering the world of productive adults. I get money, you know?

When do you find yourself regretting them and why? I like to build things, to work with my hands to a more tangibly productive end. With a humanities degree, the closest I ever get to that is by writing. Science, on the other hand, gives you more opportunities to build stuff. So I sometimes regret the choice. On the other hand, if I make enough money to pursue a few hobbies, like carpentry and farming, I think it’ll be worth it…

What sort of things do you like to build? I enjoy working with wood. I got into woodworking and carpentry in high school; I was something of a shop kid. On one occasion, me and some other students built a couple of 6 foot tall, functioning trebuchets, medieval catapults. But I’ll build anything, as the situation and circumstances necessitate.

What sort of schemes have you been involved in? I’ll give you an example. When I was in high school, I used to take breakfast orders from kids. Then I would wake up early, run down to Mcdonalds, BK and Dunkin Donuts with a wagon, and pick up the orders. I’d deliver the purchases in the morning for a nominal fee. Eventually, the school decided to put an end to that scheme, but I made a buck while it lasted…

What inspired you to go to Law School? I wasn’t so much inspired to go to law school; it was more like I fell into it. Law school is the natural next step after a humanities degree, specifically one in philosophy/history. Of course law school is the place to be if you want to make something of yourself. So many people are going off to law school now for just that reason, and I’m among them. I have high hopes that by the end of my 3 years at law school, I’ll have a good idea of how I can make a positive impact on the world while doing interesting and engaging work. And the skills I’m learning are invaluable. At this point, I couldn’t be happier about my decision to go.

What were some of the biggest surprises you found in Law School? It’s nice to be surrounded by a group of very intelligent people inside as well as outside the classroom. Also, nothing can really prepare you for the workload, or the style of learning and writing they seek to teach law students. But you pick up on it as you go.

What’s the work load like at law school and style of learning/writing like at law school? Basically, the work load is not so difficult that it’s beyond you, but you still gotta bust your ass to do well. Personally, I enjoy law school quite a bit, though so many of my peers think I’m crazy for that. Frankly, it’s not something anyone wants to read me talk about, so I wont.

You live in DC now. How would you compare New Brunswick and DC? It’s certainly not easy to compare a small town of 50,000 people to a major metropolis holding several million. For one, DC is less dirty; there is less trash in the roads, the sewers are well managed, and you wont see gas leaks spouting fire on any given day. On the other hand, both cities do have quite a few homeless people walking around. In both places you can find significant disparities between the well to do and the poorly off, though these discrepancies are, of course, much more stark in the major city. I enjoy[ed] living in both places for different reasons: in DC, there is always something to do; the charm of NB, however, is that if there isn’t really much to do, you can always do-it-yourself, so to speak.

How did you change over the course of your time at Rutgers? Unavoidably, I grew up. College is where you learn about yourself, and I certainly did a lot of that at Rutgers. More specifically, each year I had a new independent project, just to keep myself busy and engaged. The most recent of these, of course, was the founding of the Johnsonville Press. I suppose the best I can tell you is that I became who I am today while I was at Rutgers, and I have no regrets.

What brought you to Rutgers?

What brought me to Rutgers? Well… to be honest, a random decision that I made during my sophomore year of high school is what brought me to Rutgers. Back in 2004 Myspace was all the rage. I got a Myspace account… you know, trying to fit in and all. After putting in a huge list of books I’d read in the “Books” section of my flashy new profile, I decided to see what would happen if I clicked on one. I clicked on the most recent book I’d read, which at the time was The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. I was taken to a page displaying seven Myspace profiles of people who had also read the book. I noticed there was only one person my age, a girl from Sayerville, New Jersey. Being the dork that I am, I sent her a message saying, “Hey, I read that too!”. She responded with: “I love random strangers who read!”. After that we had a correspondence that would last for a few years.

When it came time to apply for college, I only applied to one school: the University of Chicago (Early Decision). I waited and waited, until finally, on Christmas Eve I received my rejection letter with a little note at the bottom that said “Great essay”. That was nice, but I was devastated. I wrote to my New Jersey friend that day explaining my devastation: I had not only been rejected from the only school I wanted to go to, but it was also the only school I had applied to, so my seventeen-year-old self was convinced that I’d just screwed myself out of going to college. She wrote back to me a few hours later and suggested that I apply to Rutgers. She had told me how her boyfriend went there and that it was a good school. I considered her suggestion for a few moments, then stuck my head out of the computer room and shouted to my parents: “Hey, is Rutgers a good school?” My mother said: “Oh yea, that’s in New York. Great engineering school.” That didn’t seem like enough information so I went to the Rutgers website and did some research, which included discovering that Rutgers is the State University of New Jersey. Rutgers looks good on paper, let me tell you, so I decided to apply. I wrote the optional essay and submitted my application a day or two after Christmas. Not even two weeks later I got an email that exploded into confetti the moment I clicked on it: Rutgers wanted me.

However, I was still not convinced that Rutgers would be the best fit for me, even though I was elated that I had been accepted. My parents and I drove down to New Jersey for the Open House. The moment I stepped on campus I knew that Rutgers was where I was supposed to be, in spite of the fact that there were torrential downpours for the duration of our visit. If anything, the rain only made me fall in love with Rutgers and New Brunswick more. Walking around in the rain is one of my favorite outdoor activities. However, in the end, what brought me to Rutgers was a combination of my need to leave home and the desire to go to a school that wanted me for my brain.

How did you decide on your majors?

In choosing what to major in, I considered the practical route, which would have been studying in a field that would be useful in the future job market. I did not want to be practical. I have always considered college to be a time for personal enrichment; my choice of what to study most certainly fell under that category. I decided to study what I love: books. The English Major option was almost a given. In high school I took, almost exclusively, History, English, and French classes. I only fulfilled the bare minimum of requirements for Math and Science (for example, I didn’t even make it to Calculus, and I quit science before I got to Physics). Normally this sort of skipping around wouldn’t have been allowed at my high school, but being the dork that I am, I had more friends on staff than I did among the students. Of course, studying English, although mentally rigorous, was still within my comfort zone as a student, and would not contribute as much as say, a French major, to my goal of personal enrichment. I had been taking French since 7th grade. I decided to take a couple classes at the college level to see how I would do. It turns out I was a lot more prepared for college-level French classes than I expected. What’s more is I absolutely adored my classes, even though they were grammar courses. I got to know the French department better and started taking more in depth courses. By the time I was a sophomore I had chosen to do a double major and study French literature in addition to English literature. As a result, I am practically fluent in French, I’ve already lived in Paris, and I can read any French writers I want in their native language. That makes me happy.

What sort of aspirations did you have growing up and which of these, if any, are you putting the most effort into making a reality?

When I was growing up I wanted to be three things: an astronomer, a movie director, and a writer. Today I still aspire to be all of those things. I have made great efforts in my life so far to make all of them into reality. Out of the three, I have thus far only succeeded at becoming one of them: an astronomer, albeit a recreational astronomer. I have a telescope… a big one… which I lug outside on clear nights to study the sky, or just to gaze.

My aspirations to become a movie director and a writer have not wavered. I write all the time. I carry two moleskines, two legal pads, two pencils, one blue pen, one red pen, and at least one book everywhere I go. I’m serious about that. I carry those exact things with me everywhere I go, even when I know it’s highly unlikely I’ll need them. You never know when inspiration will strike. I like to be prepared.

As far as making those aspirations into reality… well, I’d say I’m off to a pretty good start. I am currently working on a screenplay with a friend and fellow writer. I have a few other ideas for screenplays in the works, but I prioritize my projects, so those are less pressing. As far as my other writing is concerned, I am working on my first collection of poetry. I am writing a science fiction novel, which is, at present, the most complete storyline I have yet constructed. In addition to those two big projects I am also working on a short fiction piece, which will probably become a novella, as well as a collection of short stories, and one play. I also have a writer’s exchange going on with my poet friend Stacey Balkun. We mail our work to each other for the purpose of critique and betterment. In a sense, we are doing our own Pound-Eliot Exchange. I also do editing with my good friend Starky Morillo; we edit and critique each other’s works of fiction. Starky and I have been exchanging work for almost three years now. And finally, I am the Editor-In-Chief of the Johnsonville Press, a paper which I’ve been contributing to and editing for since its inception. This position above all others has allowed me to become more comfortable with expressing myself as a writer and as an editor. I had never considered being an editor before the JVP, at least not outside of the editing I do on my own work. However, the Johnsonville has shown me that in the event I fail as a writer, I might just have a career in editing, and that’s not so bad because at least I’d get to hang out with writers.

How did you change over the course of your time at Rutgers?

How did I change? Well, physically I didn’t change much. I probably got smarter after reading as much as I did. I am definitely a better writer. I’m pretty much fluent in French now, which is awesome and incredibly useful for slipping out of awkward or uncomfortable situations, and for traveling around Europe. I am less shy than I was when I was eighteen years old. I have mostly overcome my fear/inability to share my work in front of a group of people. (I’d like to thank Susan Miller’s creative writing classes for that). I am a far more confident person. Rutgers challenged me intellectually and socially, and though I’m a little bruised, I’m no worse for the wear. Over the course of my time at Rutgers I’d say that I went from a timid and smart girl to a confident and intelligent young woman.

How did you fall in love with reading and writing?

How do any of us fall in love? It’s hard to say why or how I fell smitten over these common activities. When I was growing up I was not allowed to watch TV except for Mr. Rogers or a parent approved movie. I was never allowed to possess or to play video games. My mother said to me: “If you want to have fun, then go outside and play, or read a book.” As a result, many of my fun seeking habits revolve around going outside (i.e. star gazing with my telescope, nature walks, walking in the rain) or books. Reading a lot as a child most certainly had a direct affect on my writing. In fact, I have no doubt that my reading probably instigated a lot of my early writing. For example, the first screenplay I wrote was an adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is one of my favorite stories of all time. I suppose that when I got to a certain age where reading stories was no longer enough, I started writing my own.

No TV except for Mr. Rogers?! What was that like?

Oh it was fine! I found ways to entertain myself. My mother used to tell me that TV would fry my brain, so I shouldn’t watch a lot of it or else I’d become a couch potato, a vegetable, or a zombie. None of those things sounded appealing to me, so I just didn’t watch that much TV. My parents made sure that I watched films with them. It was almost like they had a schedule for my life about when to introduce me to certain things. For example, when I was seventeen, my Father told me that it was time for me to watch A Clockwork Orange, so we sat down and watched it together. I was appalled, so I went and read the book, and was about a thousand times more appalled afterwards, but still appreciative that I’d been told to wait until I was old enough to understand what I was watching.

Instead of TV, my parents wanted me to have a strong background in the arts. My Mother brought me to Shakespeare plays as a young girl, to the Boston Pops, and to nearly every museum in the Boston Area. And I loved it all. She taught me about the Impressionists, about Da Vinci, about baseball, about how to appreciate classical music, and all before the time I was in Junior High. My Father is a musician. He gave me my first piano lessons, taught me how to read music, how to maintain tempo, and how to play the blues. He turned my piano education over to his old piano teacher when I was in elementary school and from there I was jazz trained on the piano. My father was also the one who taught me how to play baseball, how to ice skate, and how to lace up my hockey skates (I couldn’t wear figure skates because I always tripped on the toe-pick.). I really can’t say enough about how well my parents raised me. They did a good job with my sister and I. I can only hope to be as competent a parent as mine are.

How is speaking French useful for slipping out of awkward or uncomfortable situations?

Have you ever been on an elevator or on a subway car when some people sitting near you are speaking in another language and you have no idea what they’re saying? Being able to slip in and out of French at my convenience gives me that sense of privacy those people on that train or that elevator might have. It’s also a safety net. And it’s also a fun tool for fucking with people.

Let me give you a few examples as to how and why my French is so useful, or rather, why speaking another language in general is so incredibly useful. Last summer after having lived in Paris for a few months, I got on a bus and traveled around Europe for a couple of weeks by myself. My first stop was Amsterdam, which is not exactly the easiest city to visit alone, especially for the first time. As a female traveling alone in an unknown foreign city, I knew I would have to take certain precautions and that I might have to adjust what time of day I went out. I decided to speak French for the duration of my stay in Amsterdam, knowing full well that not a soul would understand me, as the population speaks Dutch, English, and Flemish. In Amsterdam, speaking French acted as a safety barrier; I could pretend that I didn’t speak English, therefore avoiding unpleasant encounters or dealing with people I didn’t want to talk to in the first place… which proved more useful than you might think. Although I value modesty, for the sake of explaining my point, I will put modesty aside for a minute and tell you that as a pretty girl, I knew I’d be hassled a lot, especially because I was alone. Falling into French got me out of every sticky situation of that sort. My French made me feel a lot safer. It also gave me an opportunity to fuck with people. Whenever I would go into a store and ask a question I would start off in French, then break off into really bad English with a heavy French accent. It’s amazing to see what kind of reactions you get when the person you’re talking to thinks that you don’t understand them.

How is it that you got involved with the JVP and what have you learned from your experience thus far?

A few months before the JVP started up Alex and Mike showed up at my apartment with a clipboard. They were not soliciting random people. Alex and Mike are my friends and I had known them for a little while by the time the idea for the JVP came around. They explained that they were trying to start an independent paper for the New Brunswick and Rutgers communities and that they wanted to know if I was interested in writing for it. I said yes. A few months later the JVP launched and I was a resident poet. Before long the Creativity Section got going, and not long after that Mike moved to Colorado and Alex asked me to take over as Managing Editor. I was ME for a year and then when Alex left for law school, I inherited the paper. So in terms of my involvement with the JVP, I was there during the planning, the launch, and beyond.

There are many ways to approach the question: “What have you learned from your experience thus far?” Three big things come to mind when I consider this question. The first is that I’ve learned how to better accept criticism and withstand negative feedback on my work, even when it’s rude or just plain mean, or even if it’s so constructive that it hurts. Second, my grammar skills are at an all time high and I find that my eye for errors, redundancies, diction, syntax, etc., is getting sharper by the minute. I’ve learned not only how to identify these issues in the work of writers, but I can offer multiple solutions to fixing those issues as well. As a result, I’ve developed a distinct style of editing (the third big thing) and a distinct voice as an editor. Above all, my experience with the JVP thus far has been very rewarding for me. Mostly, I hope that the work I do for the writers’ work helps them to improve their own styles and voices, and that they become better writers.

How did you meet Mike and Alex?

I’m not sure I can answer this question without incriminating the three of us in nefarious activities. However, I met Alex and Mike through my friends. We three belong to the same group of friends and only realized that fact after attending a few parties and spotting each other over and over again. Luckily we came to that realization early enough in our college careers to have become good friends now. Alex and I are particularly close because we have been working side by side on the JVP for a long time.

As a final note, unrelated to this last question, I’d just like to say that if you want to know me, then just talk to me. I’m a people person. I’m a conversationalist. I’m all about the face-to-face.

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Photo provided by Mr. Brendan McInerney. All rights reserved.

Alex Giannattasio: Civic duty is the moral imperative that members of society actively protect the rights of society as a whole. There are many ways to fulfill this duty, one of which, for instance, is voting. By collectively engaging in the democratic process, our society as a group agrees to work out its differences peacefully in exchange for giving everyone a voice. This in turn sets a baseline for the group’s peaceful coexistence to stand upon, thus preserving the basic rights of every individual.

But voting is not the only way to engage one’s civic duty. Voting takes such a small effort that the possible impact per person is diluted anywhere from hundreds to millions of times over. A more active way to meet one’s civic duty is to work in one’s local community to improve the quality of life of the most needy, and to just improve it in some valuable way. We as a nation are in fact living up to this now: community engagement in America is at very high levels, with 111 million Americans volunteering their time in the past 12 months and 60 million volunteering on a regular basis. The Future of American Power by Joseph S. Nye, Jr., Foreign Affairs, Vol. 89, No. 6, at 10. Community engagement bears a much bigger impact per person and improves the quality of the community in which you live. In the short term, this kind of civic participation can be much more valuable to a nation as a whole, because it translates into social improvement at an extremely efficient cost.

Michael Stuzynski: Americans have a sense of civic duty because after over 200 years people are still somewhat conscious of the concept of the Revolutionary War. The fact that people fought and died for your right to vote, among other things, is everywhere in culture, and is reiterated with every new war that our country fights. It’s less a sense of a duty and more a sense of a responsibility that is owed to the respectful remembrance of people from the past. But it’s also pretty cool that you can be responsible for firing the leader of the free world, and all of his oafish minions.

Jhoany Benitez: When I first read this question, I was immediately going to answer “Yes, definitely. It’s your right, so, why not? People in Cuba wish they could make a difference.” But then I opted to put some real thinking into my answer and ended up completely changing my mind. So my real answer is No. I think that the United States shouldn’t have a notion of civic duty. Why? Because people should not be forced to do something. Voting, to be exact. “It’s your right as a citizen!” Does this mean that I have to run out and vote—even if I don’t even know who I’m voting for? That’s why I changed my mind. Because I remembered hearing from friends who opted not to vote because they knew nothing about the people running.

Also, let’s say that you hate Republicans…but you don’t even know who’s running for either party. Does that mean that you’re going to vote for whoever’s representing the Democratic party even if you know nothing about them? This is where the notion of civic duty fails. I think it’s better to not vote than to shove down people’s throat the belief that it’s their “civic duty” to vote and have them vote blindly. So I say No to civic duty. Vote because you care, not because someone’s telling you to do so.

Dave Imbriaco: To me, civic duty is what is expected of a citizen in return for living within a system that allows them certain rights and freedoms – the RESPONSIBILITIES that come with those freedoms, if you will. There was a point in this country not too long ago when everyone who took high school social studies classes learn not only about how government works but how they must also actively participate in it. This seems to have all but died in our modern education, which is a tragedy of epic proportions. The mantra of a good social studies class went that it creates not only good students but good citizens. Also, it wouldn’t be called our “duty” if it was an easy thing to do. It sucks to choose between a giant douche and a turd sandwich, but you, as a citizen, still have the duty to make that choice because you live in a democracy. There are countless other ways you can get involved in a democracy but this is the most basic of all. /rambling.

Billal Ahmed: I find it interesting that while young people often have no problem condemning strict notions of what it means to be a good Muslim or Christian as a danger to global security, they hesitate to criticize civic duty for the same reasons. I have no problem with the idea of improving a nation through the idea of civic duty, whether through volunteering, teaching, building, etc. However, I blame civic duty for the prevalence of worrisome nationalism which inevitably begins to infringe on the rights of others. Civic duty easily leads to civic elitism, which reinforces the notion that a particular nation is special and requires extremely lamentable acts to be carried out in order to preserve that status. One could argue that civic duty is a fundamental motivation for the vigilante bands currently patrolling the United States border with Mexico. One could also argue that civic duty lead to the vengeance-fueled invasion of Afghanistan nine years ago with Operation Anaconda, which was blinded by passion and thus badly disorganized. Civic duty is excellent under the same conditions that religious zealotry can be considered excellent- when it is used to fuel the betterment of humanity rather than the suffering of others.

Brian Connolly: We pay taxes…so, we already all do have a notion of civic duty. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great outlet for people who have the time, energy, and willingness to help their fellow countrymen (and countrywomen, out). But, quite frankly, people have live’s to live. If you want to run a YMCA program for underprivileged youth–knock yourself out, you’ll probably feel great doing it. But in no way should America institute a mandatory system of community building exercises. That encroaches on the freedoms that we have. And, as an interesting reminder, historical precedents that include an overwhelmingly strong concept of national duty include Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia. Just a thought.

Rebecca Zandstein: Civic duty, being the responsibilities of a citizen are demanded by America to some extent. Citizen’s are required to pay taxes and obey all laws of the state in which they live or are traveling to and the federal laws. Aside from the latter give or take a few citizens are expected to follow other rules that are not necessarily obligatory or concrete: like voting and being morally just to one another. While America does provide citizens with a code that they must follow I believe that the “unspoken law” should be followed as well due to the positive effects it can have on society and the individual(s). Civic duty allows individuals to participate in activities that many would literally die for the opportunity to do. Civic duty can assist others, whether below or above you in the hierarchy, in a manner that no one else might necessarily have the capability of. Regardless of the latter, America can only enforce a limited amount of written code/rules on its citizens despite that it might be tempted to enact the “unwritten code” onto its citizens as well. Unwritten civic duties are optional and those who view them as mandated have the benefit of, at a minimum, being viewed in a brighter light than other citizens.

Marlana Moore: There are certain attributes that make a person a good, admirable human being, regardless of nationality. When I think of civic duty, I think of those things I can do to be a good and responsible person in context to my identity as an American. Civic duty includes voting, obviously, but voting entails some other duties as well. In order to vote responsibly, you have to be aware of the candidates and know what they stand for. Similarly, being a responsible American involves knowing what your government is doing, and telling them what you think about it. I think if more Americans really took this attitude of their civic duty seriously, our government would not feel so removed from us, and we might instead feel that they are helping us.

Ben Kharakh: I think that America lacks both a cohesive and shared vision of what it means to be a good citizen and the means by which the virtues of good citizenry are to be cultivated. Rather than wait, however, for the government to improve or for people to start discussing what it means to be a “good American”, it’s up to those people who desire reform and deliberation to be the change they wish to see. That means asking one’s self, “What can I do to be a good citizen?”, which is the same as asking one’s self, “What can I do to be a good person?”

It’s important to be a good person for a number of reasons, one of which is that the way we treat others teaches them how to treat us, something that’s easier to discern on a micro scale with a family than on the macro scale with a nation. A nation, however, is just a family with a lot of people, which means that it simply takes longer for the treatment that we’ve taught others to come back around and affect us. But it will, it does, and we are seeing the affects of now more than ever. Not that this is anything new; we just didn’t have TV and Internet 2,000 years ago.

Who’s to blame for this? No one or everyone; take your pick. Personally, I find the question of, “Who’s responsible?” less useful than, “What do I do?” It’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately.

Brendan Kaplan: By “sense” I think what you mean is cohesive whole, picture, or gestalt.

Any position on the matter, even one devoid of commitment to civic duty is nonetheless a sense. We HAVE a sense… is it the right one?

I think the question really is then, what type of sense of civic duty should individual Americans have? How does this sense impact the greater country as a whole?

Things tend to function fractally, and that means the the number one thing you can do to change the country is to change yourself. To determine what type of country we should have, is to contemplate what type of people we should be. In short, by asking if there is a proper type of civic orientation, we are asking ourselves if we think that there is a proper way to act or not.

I am of the mindset that there is. I guess then, that I believe that we as individuals, and therefore collectively as a country, should maintain a set of behavioral standards. Our question further suggests that those personal standards that I think we should maintain are relevant to the way the nation functions as a whole.

OK, so what standards should these be?

I think it is very difficult to predict how any process will manifest in any specific situation. The content may be different for different people. For example, to become more well rounded, a really rich arrogant kid might be well served by working in a field for a week and being treated with little importance, while an illegal day-worker might truly benefit from being prodded to act arrogant and demand Pellegrino sent to his table. The content of the process of balance is different depending on the direction any particular actor is coming from.

Thus, by realizing that individuals can attain balance by acting in seemingly divergent ways, and considering that a cohesive national “feeling of duty” would necessarily account for these diverse methods of balance, a true and proper sense of civic duty would have to connect and encompass all of these facets.

Our duty must be then to translate the experiences of individuals within the country into content that others can understand as of the same process as their own. Civic duty isn’t about symmetrization, as in what I call ‘the new diversity’ whose maxim reads “Nobody can be discriminated against, therefore everyone has to be exactly the same [when measured against pre-approved factors such as income, education, wealth, aptitude]” Instead, civic duty is about recognizing the differences in the individual stories that become aggregated into cultures and nations, and elevating those differences as the welcome product of a highly specialized humanity that has evolved traditions and customs that allow it to live in a variety of situations.

Interaction between these different cultures must be facilitated in such a way as to not allow the willful destruction of a culture simply for the sake of its destruction.

Civic duty, then, is about communication, accountability, and rights. These days, accountability is so often lost as people are reluctant to suggest that an individual’s perspective might be flawed for fear of offending a cultural perspective. To compensate, these same people often become overly concerned with communication or rights, and end up as misguided activists, protesting anyone and anything in their paths.

A further revision then: Civic duty is about a mediation of communication, accountability (consequences/ resolutions), and rights. Those concerned about their civic duty engage in processes that further these three ideals.

Way to go JVP!!

Sincerely,
Matia Guardabascio
Editor-In-Chief

Everything I studied at Rutgers I studied by coincidence. The school offers very little by way of curricular guidance, opting for broad categorical course requirements over the more personalized, advisory approach of smaller institutions. Part of the reason for this is practical: advising every undergraduate student would indeed present a daunting challenge for the university. But the school’s policy also has the effect of making students personally accountable for their choices. There are both pros and cons to this. On the positive side, it gives students the freedom to shape their own curriculum, curtailed only by those broad categorical requirements and the speed with which they can punch numbers into the registrar. On the other hand, it leaves students at the mercy of their own mistakes and inexperience. Pursuing a course of study, only to find down the road that it wasn’t right for you can prove a costly mistake indeed, especially considering rising tuition costs, and the price of the average credit-hour, which can vary depending on whether a student is in-state, out-of-state, or international. This issue is bound to have particular resonance at Rutgers, where, a priori, it seems that many people end up switching their major one or more times over the course of their four years here.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. I came to Rutgers with only a vague inkling that I would prefer a liberal arts education to one in math and science. I didn’t choose my first semester schedule; Rutgers established it for me. Among the courses I was given were Intro to Ethics in the Philosophy Department–taught by a woman who would become one of my favorite professors–Ruth Chang, and Intro to Art History in (you guessed it) the Art History department, taught by the venerable Professor John Kenfield. It was largely because of the immensely positive experience I had in Professor Chang’s class that I ended up pursuing a major in philosophy. Having a feeling that a focus on art history probably wouldn’t lead to the material success I envisioned for my future, I was more cautious in pursuing that field of study. Even so, I enjoyed the class so much that I allowed myself to sign up the next semester for Intro to Art History II. Today, I’m very glad that I did.

In my sophomore year, with two intro classes under my belt I decided to pursue a minor in Art History. I won’t lie: I didn’t exactly excel academically in the field. Rather, I settled into a comfortable niche as an average B student among my peers in the department. But my minor did end up providing me with several substantial benefits. Procedurally, I can point to two things: (1) the satisfaction of my non–western requirement; and (2) an easy entry point into Rutgers’ study abroad program. The Art History minor at Rutgers only demands the completion of 18 credit hours, or six classes, including the two intro survey classes I completed as a freshman. That meant that I only needed four more classes—less than two per year—to be awarded the minor. Luckily, several of the Rutgers art history offerings fulfill the university’s core curriculum non-western requirement, so in effect I was able to kill two birds with one stone, satisfying my non-western requirement while working towards my specific degree. In addition, the Art History Department at Rutgers enjoys a special relationship with the university’s study abroad program, and it’s not difficult to see why. Indisputably, the best way to study art is in person, by actually seeing it (as opposed to photographs of art). And it just so happens that a preponderance of art is located abroad. So it was that in the summer of my junior year, I was accepted with a little effort into the Art History Department’s six week summer abroad program in Paris, France. As you can imagine, six discounted weeks spent in Paris with behind the scenes access to all the museums and palaces proved to be an incredible experience. What is more, the program equipped me with six art history credits, thereby completing my minor without taking up valuable space in my fall and spring semester schedules. As I said, things couldn’t have worked out better…

But the perks of studying art history aren’t limited to the procedural realities of undergraduate study at Rutgers. I dare say that the skills engendered by the study of the subject matter itself can prove invaluable to students of any disposition. For one, the manner in which the subject is taught lends itself to the development of analytical skills which apply broadly to academic subjects other than art history itself. For another, even a basic understanding of art history naturally augments many other liberal arts fields. And for another, art history students will generally be more acculturated than their peers, and consequently more acutely aware and accepting of cultural diversity. This means that art history students constitute some of our nation’s best representatives to foreigners, capable of effectively communicating with people from a broad range of backgrounds. I’ll elaborate on these one at a time.

At base, visual art is the expression of ideas through images, through color, shape and form, as opposed to through language. Studying art history forces the mind to translate from one to the other. This is intellectual exercise at its best. The art of translating image into language requires a high level of abstract thinking. The ability to think at a high level of abstraction is a hallmark of creative work, and creativity is a skill that employers value highly. Perhaps less glamorous, but no less valuable, is the ability to quickly and accurately categorize ideas. Anyone who has studied art history has lamented the profusion of memorization and categorization it entails. But the skill here being taught leads to the ability to work efficiently and effectively with large quantities of data, something which will prove invaluable in many later careers.

The saying goes that “a picture is worth a thousand words.” While overused to the point of non-meaning, it is no less true for that. Art doesn’t simply express ideas; it also offers a broader and less limited framework with which to express them. As a result, artists can, and often do, say things in one image which would take dozens of pages to express in language. Such ideas, of course, not only draw upon their linguistically-based counterparts in the liberal arts, but also contribute to them. History, Philosophy, Psychology, Religion, Sociology, Anthropology, and even Political Science all have something to add to—and something to take away from—the study of art. As a result, even a basic understanding of art history can contribute immensely to the study of any other liberal art.

Finally art is universal, in that people of every culture produce it. The ways in which they produce it often tell us something valuable about their culture itself. Cultural understanding is an unavoidable consequence of the study of art history, and as a result it enables people who may not even speak the same language to relate on a certain level. Consider what Holocaust art can tell us about the people who experienced that period of inexcusable lapse in human reason, or what indigenous African art can tell us about African culture and society today. And really, just ask yourself what you do when you travel abroad: you go to museums and look at art, as a means of better understanding the culture in which you find yourself. If learning the language of a nation is impossible, exploring the art of that nation’s culture can constitute the next best thing.

Surely the valuable nature of an understanding of art history to the individual is clear. But at the end of the day, perhaps the best reason to study art history, even a little bit, is that it’s fun. Maybe it’s just me, but I never really saw looking at and writing about art as being work. The pleasure of expanding one’s cultural and artistic palette is something few people on the planet ever get to do. As a student, you have access to that pleasure. If you seize it, I promise you’ll start seeing messages in art everywhere you go. It’s all around us, after all.

Alex Giannattasio is one of the two founders of the Johnsonville Press. He graduated from Rutgers in 2009, after majoring in Philosophy and History, and minoring in Art History. He is currently a first year law student at George Washington University in DC. He is perhaps overly proud of the Johnsonville Press.

Headline photo courtesy of  Epicadamat en.wikipedia

Let me be clear: this is not the statement of some pompous first year law student seeking to undeservedly congratulate himself (although admittedly, a walk through the Presidential Garden beats a walk through the Grease Truck parking lot.) This is the statement of a kid who was told by his high school guidance councilor that he was lucky to have been accepted by Rutgers University as an undergraduate, and who ended up at a top 20 law school in Washington DC. Undeniably, I owe this fact to my work with the Johnsonville Press, so if you’ll forgive my nostalgia, I’d like to take the opportunity to briefly reflect on that valuable endeavor.

What is the Johnsonville Press? I’m tempted to call it a publication, but to be honest, from convocation last May through the release of this issue, it could not even have been accurately called that. At best, it’s a loose association of a few Rutgers students and alumni, a network of young minds with diverse backgrounds and interests. We’re united only by the good fortune of having had attended Rutgers University—and by the assumption that we are all the masters of our own destiny, that the choice to do something worthwhile together is always better than the alternative of solitary practice or (what is worse) collective stagnation.

Perhaps the best analogy for the Johnsonville Press is a slow moving train, steadily rolling onward. While it’s in your station, with a little effort you can get on or get off; hesitate too long, however, and the opportunity to ride it somewhere will eventually have passed you by. We have only a short amount of time in the self-imposed limbo of academia, a time when we’re old enough to start deciding who we want to become and have enough free time to make it happen. How we use that time is up to us; if we use it wisely to hone our chosen skills, we reap the rewards at our next stop. Squander it, and we’re left wondering “What was the point?” For their part, Johnsons may not know where they want to go yet, but they certainly know how to get there…

As our first Editor in Chief Michael Stuzynski used to say, “every swinging dick is a Johnson.” This was not meant to suggest that the JVP is some kind of misogynistic, homoerotic club, but to stress that the potential for success lies in everyone. Through participation, all can better themselves.  All you have to do is do it. The Johnsonville Press was made by the doers, for the doers. When faced with the choice between getting in the fight and doing something, or sitting back and wallowing comfortably in mediocrity, a Johnson will run, stumble or, if necessary, crawl into battle. Was it a coincidence that the JVP was founded in one of the county’s recognized DIY capitals? Maybe so, maybe not; but if it was a coincidence, it certainly was a precipitous one.

A Johnson prefers pushing the limits of his own understanding of the world to tacitly accepting what he’s told. A Johnson would rather prove himself wrong and look foolish than sit back and avoid taking that risk altogether. A Johnson craves intellectual combat, because he knows that the reward—truth—is the only means of affecting his own reality. After the fight, a Johnson pats her opponents on the back, pours another glass of wine and laughs at the carnage it has wreaked on her own preconceptions. And a Johnson does it all for herself, and for no one else.

The benefits of working with the JVP are always going to be specific to the individual. What’s more, as with fate, these benefits will generally only become known in retrospect. Personally, the Johnsonville taught me how work with other opinionated people to reach common understandings. It taught me how to be comfortable with the sound of my own voice. It taught me the difference between actively striving to shape my own destiny and passively letting it become a reality, and how to use both to achieve my own purposes. Above all, it taught me how to avoid getting caught up in the minutia of everyday life, how to press on while keeping my goals in mind and to keep focused on the task at hand.

Would I be where I am now without the Johnsonville Press? Perhaps I would be. Will my present endeavors prove as successful as those of my past? Time will tell. But do I have the courage and the experience to seize upon them with confidence now? Thanks to the Johnsonville Press, I know I do.

I will always owe the Johnsonville a debt of gratitude for helping to make me who I am today and who I will become tomorrow. And I always pay what I owe. That’s why I will continue writing, maybe not as often as I’d like, but as often as I can afford. A Johnson never forgets where he comes from.

In the coming months, the Johnsonville is going to continue its slow and steady ride forward. The last remaining member of the original JVP staff, Matia Guardabascio, has graciously accepted the position of Editor in Chief (new writers, believe me, I know she can be nitpicky; don’t get frustrated—she will vastly improve your writing ability if you let her.) I have the utmost faith and confidence in her, and in the energy and resolve of the third generation staff, as should you. I know this train is bound for great things. I may not know where it’s going, but I do know that it’s time to get back on…

Johnsonville Press on my friends.

Alex Giannattasio

Johnsonville Press Founder and Second Editor in Chief

Today’s Submission: Alex Giannattasio

1. Challenge of the Day: Teach someone something they don’t already know today. If you manage to do it without getting called an asshole, you probably have what it takes to reverse America’s declining status as the world’s leader in education. Or you could always teach English in South Korea, or even better, Thailand! You can buy a pet monkey with all the money you’ll make over there!

2.  Recommendation of the Day: the band Radio Moscow–Recently, a friend introduced me to this three man rock group. Composed of one electric guitar, one bass guitar, and a rotating drummer, Radio Moscow plays a heavy, raw rock style reeking of psychedelia  and blues influences. Songs range from hard and fast to low and slow to “out there.” Listening to them, two acts come to my mind: Jimi Hendrix and the Black Keys.  Their second album, Brain Cycles, really hits the spot in the right context.

3.  Bonus Recommendation of the Day: the movie Heat–Al Pacino. Robert De Niro. Michael Mann. ‘Nough said.

Click here for an awesome clip. It’s a mild spoiler, but do you really care?

4.  Quote of the Day: “There are no facts, only interpretations.”

Friedrich Nietzsche, Notebooks, (Summer 1886 – Fall 1887)

(First results for Nietzsche on Wikiquote)

5. Fact of the Day: Friedrick Nietzsche’s WikiQuote page (above) has over 14,000 words, around 43 Word document pages. Jerry Garcia’s page holds 540 words, about 1 Word document page. Dick McCormick doesn’t have a WikiQuote page…

6. Discussion Topic of the Day: Why do you participate in the Johnsonville Press?

On the other hand, preparing your own food is not without its drawbacks. For one, unless you are a professional chef, the odds of you preparing an exceptionally delicious meal are slim to none. For another, if you are cooking for yourself, you will almost certainly have to buy more of several ingredients than you plan to use for any one dish, leaving you with less variety and more leftovers. But perhaps the worst thing about choosing to cook for yourself is having to start from scratch every time you’re hungry. Imagine coming home from a long day at work. Your boss has been riding you all day, your brain is fried, and you’ve just endured a stress-filled hour and a half commute standing up on a smelly, crowded rush hour commuter train. How much do you really feel like breaking out the measuring cups and preheating the oven? I’ll wager you don’t.

In times like these, I turn to one of the easiest meals I know how to make: the “poor man’s casserole”. It is exceedingly simple to make, but fresh, delicious, cheap, healthy, and quick. Here’s what you do:

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (sorry, this step is unavoidable).
2. Grease an oven safe pan with olive oil.
3. Clean and dice a couple root vegetables (carrots, garlic, potatoes, onions, yams, etc.) and a couple links of sausage (any kind) into large, similarly sized chunks and mix them all together in the pan.
4. Sprinkle some more olive oil, salt, pepper, and a few pieces of fresh rosemary (if you’ve got it) over the top.
5. Cover and bake for 30-40 minutes.

While the meal bakes, whip up a salad (for instance, Boston lettuce, Cannelloni beans and fried mushrooms), slice up a baguette and open a nice light red wine, a Pinot Noir if you’ve got it. This dish will leave you satisfied. It takes less than an hour to make. It’s healthy, hearty and extremely adaptable. And best of all, it requires nothing more complex than the ability to cut vegetables into big chunks. You can make it with things you have lying around your kitchen. If you’re not trying to be a chef Boyardee tonight, throw this dish together and marvel at how easy it is to make a good Irish meal. Cheers.

1. Recommendation of the Day:

Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations – If you like images of beautiful countryside, snarky New Jersey hosts and eating, why aren’t you watching this show right now? The most grounded and authentic travel series yet to hit the idiot box, No Reservations is a must watch for any lover of foreign food and travel. A new episode airs on the Travel Channel every Monday night at 10. The show willingly embraces travel to off the grid places often skipped over by the usual fluff shows, Kazakhstan, Romania, Russia, and of course, Tony’s home state of New Jersey to name a few. The host is approachable, his commentary (more or less) authentic, and his demeanor uncompromising. I recommend the Provence episode:

2. Two Picks from the Internet:

President Bush wipes his hand on President Clinton at a Haitian Aid benefit:

Wanderer Session with Via Audio from www.Pollifax.com:

3. Quote(s) of the Day: Four most recent “Bushisms” from politicalhumor.about.com:

“This is my maiden voyage. My first speech since I was the president of the United States and I couldn’t think of a better place to give it than Calgary, Canada.” –George W. Bush, as reported by the Associated Press, Calgary, Canada, March 17, 2009

“I’m going to put people in my place, so when the history of this administration is written at least there’s an authoritarian voice saying exactly what happened.” –George W. Bush, on what he hopes to accomplish with his memoir, as reported by the Associated Press, Calgary, Canada, March 17, 2009

“One of the very difficult parts of the decision I made on the financial crisis was to use hardworking people’s money to help prevent there to be a crisis.” –George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., Jan. 12, 2009

“I’m telling you there’s an enemy that would like to attack America, Americans, again. There just is. That’s the reality of the world. And I wish him all the very best.” –George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., Jan. 12, 2009

4. Famous New Brunswick Resident of the Day:

James P. Johnson (1891-1955), pianist, composer. One of the original stride piano masters.^[48]

5. Discussion Topic of the Day:

When, if ever, will the end of civilization occur? Of American society as a functional entity? Of the human race as a species?