V V a 0 0 0 a' w :- w w 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 f \, I . O 1 .. F , - .. ,.. ..^R . f, t'- a. 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 about. 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- G 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. -o 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 again. 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( p 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 IL LUSTRAT 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 cut. 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 ION BY MEGAN MULHOLLAND 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 office. 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 easy. 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, Siena -- I zr ;n a .3