When it comes to memories, there’s value that lies even in the most painful ones. Altogether, this emphasizes the real power of human connection in the face of both love and loss.
The documentary reminds us that this show was not just about comedy. It was about relationships, the memories and the beautifully chaotic love that makes a family feel real.
After experiencing the museum, Montgomery felt different. My class was silent. Nobody cared to crack any jokes. The air even started to smell different — like rotting garbage, reminiscent of the Southern Magnolia that Billie Holiday sung about decades prior.
I’m worried that something similar might happen when I return from college. Instead of feeling comfortable and relieved, I’ll feel unfamiliar and awkward, like I’m staying at a friend’s house for a week before I return to Boston. I’ve often heard sayings such as “home is where the heart is,” but how am I supposed to call this new place “home” without the proper time to love it?
By Ruby Voge, Opinion Co-Editor
• January 30, 2025
A simple cup of black coffee may be the ultimate symbol of mundanity. Plain and pedestrian — black coffee serves as that quick hit of caffeine before a long day of work or a long night of studying. But in the reflection of the darkness of a simple cup of black coffee, Patti Smith sees a way of life — the life of an artist.
What I wrote in my journal abroad didn’t seem worth sharing since many entries were half-formed thoughts. But there’s more there than I initially realized. I wrote for the hell of it — which, I think, is the best type of writing. Now, I'm diving into my unfiltered journal entries from abroad — they’re raw, real and vulnerable.
I felt it as soon as I stepped foot on campus again. The wave of nostalgia hit me like a truck, as did the knowledge I was entering my last year at Boston University.
I’ve felt this impending doom before, as a senior in high school who was also filled with uncertainty. This time though, we’re being pushed out into the actual “real world,”. The safety net of school life will soon be replaced by bills, jobs and the inevitable question: “What’s next?”
Journaling became an activity where I could process my feelings without worrying about being misunderstood or judged. While at first it was a way to express my emotions freely, it evolved into something much more. My journals have become an archive of my life — a way to preserve the memories that shape who I am. They allow me to capture the details of each day in a way that no photograph ever could.
At this moment, all I can feel is uneasiness and nostalgia. I always feel this way as summer disappears behind me, vanishing not necessarily with the weather but as a concept only present so long as you acknowledge it.
Traditions anchor emotions in the arbitrary nature of time. They keep us connected and serve as a comfortable continuity across years, changes and age. My grandmother was something of an anchor herself within my family. She was always a centric presence during my childhood and, truthfully, a centric presence to almost everyone she encountered.
I’m an inquisitive person: I like to look into other people’s lives and gain a fresh perspective on how I perceive them based on their experiences. I found myself always judging what my family members posted on social media without having any context to their actions.
