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September 25, 2013 - Image 10

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The Michigan Daily, 2013-09-25

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Wednesday, September 25, 2013 // The Statement

The Goose Incident
by Taylor Wizner

online comments

issue8/13 feast your eyes: an ode to ari and paul by sienawitte

Filling a need: Iow vital are foreigngraduates to American
science and industry?
"Perhaps the author can also explain why it is that once an
HI-B holder earns their green card or citizenship, that layoffs
for them increase. They get replaced by newer Hi-Bs."
- USER: Lee

\, I . O 1 ..
F , - ..
..^R .
e n

ted to sTEM uegree holers; any posiionrequisng a ache-ors Dear Ari Weinzweig and Paul
degree - businesseducation and liberal arts - can be filledby Saginaw, masterminds behind Zing-
a H-1B visa holderoall of you business and education iajors erman's Deli,
looking for ajob are competing with people who will work for My name is Siena Witte and I
far less than marketatesus r min in the USsB have a confession to make. I have a
huge crush on you.
It wasn't long ago that I was a
"How important are foreign students to the USA is the real bright-eyed freshman, stuck on
question. The answer is, 'Not very important.' The reason is North Campus - Baits II, repre-
that American companies continue to lay off Americans in engi- sent - and asking for directions
neering and the sciences in order to hire cheap foreigners. What to Angell Hall. I learned quickly
does this mean? There is no shortage of STEM. So, we don't that you don't talk about Ann
need cheap labor from foreign countries here taking American Arbor without talking the greats:
jobs." Michigan football, Rick's American
- USER: coolgreen Cafe, and Zingerman's. Well, I was
already at the University, I had my
TE season tickets nestled safely under
"There is no shortage of American STEM graduates, only sao ikt ete aeyudr
companies willing to hire them. I have a CS degree and 25 years my mattress, and I was too young
of experience - yet no company is hiring older American engi- (both literally and spiritually) for
neers where I live. I feel really sorry for younger STEM grads the underbelly of student nightlife
that aren't going to be able to pay off their student loans. that is Rick's. So to Zingerman's I
THE SOLUTION: Tax H-1B's and use the money to pay off went. And I must say, it changed my
the student loans of Americans who graduate with STEM life - and for the better.
degrees. Problem solved. Before my arrival to campus,
If the corporations really believe the load of BS they are I'd been to the Zing's a few times
shelling out, then let them put their money where their mouth before. I'm by no means a regular,
is. butI know my way around an
- USER: DJHawkins Abra's Nutty Yard Bird and a side
of macaroni and cheese. ButI must
say, each and every time I go, it's a
strangely harrowing experience.
By the time I get face-to-face with
THE t t -that glass case of cured meats and
bagels, my palms are sweating, I
rcan't breath, my heart is racing, and,
oh my god, why are there so many
Haley Goldberg Teresa Mathew Matthew Slovin people in this tiny room? The act of
choosing a Zingerman's sandwich
- a.k.a. the finely curated piece of

art that will grace my palette with
its sweet succulence in a matter of
minutes - is almost too much.
But then I stop. And I breathe.
And I think, "What would Ari and
Paul eat?" And suddenly, everything
goes black. Like a prophecy flowing
down from heaven above, it comes
to me: something savory but not too
heavy, with a touch of something
crunchy and a little bit tangy, some-
thing creamy and rich, but light
enough that it sails off the tongue
and into your stomach like a beauti-
ful crescendo at the end of a sym-
phony. A simple white bread with
just a hint of something - maybe
rye? And of course, a light browning
on both sides.
But over the years, I've learned
it's not just about the food. I mean,
it is, and it isn't. Get between my
server and me when they call my
name and it will be one of the
most regretful decisions you've
ever made. There is no amount of
heartbreak or failing grades that a
big ol' bowl of your steaming hot
matzo ball soup can't fix. And let's
be honest - you can bring more
people to a party with Zingerman's
old pickles than you can with a full
keg of light beer and red solo cups.
We all know that the food is superb.
But this isn't what I'm here to talk
I'm here to talk about the witty
sandwich names, the exotic samples
(pickled mozzarella and jalapefio
peaches anyone?), the drool-worthy
cheeses and snacks on snacks. I'm
here to talk about how you blow
me away with your wall of choco-

late, and your Bacon of the Month
club. It's like you're taking me by
the hand and saying, "I don't care
who you are or where you're from
- there is something here that you
will love." And that feels awesome.
And the people! How could I
forget the people? Each and every
time I walk through those doors -
no, come within a two-block radius
- there's someone on the corner of
Detroit and Kingsley hooting and
hollering about the latest special,
their thoughts on the olive oil I'm
sampling, and the crazy thing some-
one said to them that day. Someone
is blowing my mind with the pros-
pect of putting peanut butter on
the chocolate sourdough. Someone
is making me laugh so hard with
a joke about the soup they spilled
on their apron that I start crying.
These in between moments of
potential-best-friendness are what
keep me waiting over an hour in
seven-degree weather for a God
damn sandwich. They make me
proud to say we've shared this city,
even if only for a little while.
I'm here to tell you, Ari and Paul,
that I want to grow old with you
and your culinary masterpieces.
You've made me a better person.
You've made me want - no, deserve
- the creme de la creme, the Grade
A and the Amish chicken. You stand
for all that is right in this culinary
world, and, for that, I salute you.


must confess: a few weeks
over a goose.
It feels cathartic to write
I'm pretty sure accidentally kill
mal is not a crime.
It happened on the worst day.
driving back from a meeting t
been terribly late to after getti
wasn't until I reached the stree
to the lake and only a few blocks
my home, that I felt at ease. Th(
down, a good song on the radio, I
ly relaxed.
So when I reached the bend it
and saw the geese blocking the w
think twice. There were geese o
all the time and they usually mc
the way. I slowed the car and
started to fly upwards I picked
Then, all at once, I hit theg
bird's companions quickly asce
the sky toward the lake, but this
the end of the pack and changed
It was slowly flapping its wings t
median, not the lake, and before
my side of the car collided wit]
ripping its body beneath me.
When you hit an animal m
really hit it three times. The firs
front of the car, and the next hit
it rolls underneath each set of
time in-between feels like an et(

ago, I ran know its coming and you can't do anything.
Out of breath, I drove to the next turn
although, around and pulled over. I couldn't look
ing an ani- back but cowardly eyeballed the road to my
right where I saw a few black feathers sadly
I was just trail away in the wind. My first instinct was
that I had paranoia. Someone had seen, and knew,
ng lost. It what I did.
t, adjacent I drove to my parents' house, called my
away from mother and crawled under the covers to
e windows cry a little.
was final- People run over animals in the street all
the time. I heard something like every see-
n the road, and an animal is killed by a moving vehicle.
ay, I didn't For example, in Yellowstone National
n this road Park, six bears are killed every year from
)ved out of cars crashing into them. That's more than
when they the number of human fatalities caused by
I up speed bear attacks, which average to about three
each year (in all of North America.).
goose. The I've been in cars that have run over ani-
ended into mals before, and each time it happens I am
one was at completely surprised.
1 direction. One time on a road trip, a girl ran over
toward the a raccoon as if it was nothing and kept
I realized, moving. Afterwards, she explained pen-
h the bird, sively, "I didn't see it until it was too late. I
couldn't have swerved."
id-air, you I knew it was wrong of me, but I
t hit is the assumed people who hit animals on roads
s are when were not alert, or saw the animal and ran
tires. The it over without a care. In that moment of
ernity; you panic before impact, I figured people still

had time to make a choice. Did my friend
mean she physically wasn't able to swerve,
or that she wouldn't because it would have
been too dangerous?
That day was like any normal, bright
morning. There was no fog, no roadblocks
and no curving streets. I had not paused
when the bird changed directions. I merely
hit the thing and left.
This same summer, I interned at an
endangered-species nonprofit in Wash-
ington, D.C. I spent over three months
studying policy initiatives that would bet-
ter protect endangered species in North
America. I read news reports of hunters in
Colorado who shot and killed a gray wolf
cub after its federal protections had been
I also had learned how to protect back-
yard birds that fly into the shiny windows
that create the illusion of tree branches.
In one meeting I attended, one employee
explained how to put up window decals
so that the bird can discern the difference
between the window and the trees. After-
wards, another employee mentioned how
birds die from hitting the window, not so
much because of the impact, but because
of the stress from not being able to under-
stand where the pain came from. The
man noted that you could save the bird by
cupping it in your palms or placing it in a
small box. The warmth supposedly calms it

enough until it can fly away without injur-
ing itself again.
My days interning were filled with unex-
pected pockets of interesting information.
I grew to have much admiration for the
animal life around. I even purchased a D.C.
bird book so that I might be able to identify
some of the species wandering outside my
But just a few weeks later, the same
mindful driver, the vegetarian and wild-
life advocate, ran over a bird without a
moment's hesitation. It was almost too
The event left me with a crisis of con-
science. I kept replaying the incident in my
head. Why didn't I swerve? How could I
just run the poor, helpless animal over and
keep going? I heard the soft 'thump thump'
over and over.
Things like this happen all the time.
They are in your control to stop, but you
don't always stop because of the way we
think and the nature of our daily routines. I
expected I would not hit the bird. I expect-
ed it would fly away.
And I should have for all accounts. The
other geese around my bird did fly away
This one just happened to be on that busy'
road, it happened to be indecisive, a siow
flier. It turned left instead of right.
Taylor is anLSA junior and Daily newseditor.

Peace, love and pastrami,

-- I

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