“
Bless this house, for we are
all together. Bless us all, we
may not meet again.”
If you and I are friends, there
is no reason for you to read this
column. Actually, if you’ve only
met me in passing, you can move
on, too. Basically, if you’ve ever
spent more than five minutes with
me you have heard more about
the topic of this column than you
had ever cared to hear, and I don’t
want to put you through more
than you can handle. That’s right
folks, this column is all about the
thing I never shut up about: camp.
For those of you who may be
confused, I spent 10 summers at
Camp Wise, a Jewish overnight
camp in Chardon, Ohio. Yes,
that’s 10 summers, or half the
summers of my life spent at
what can fairly be described as
a cult, inspiring a level of rabid
fanaticism about camp that can
only be understood by those who
were right there with me.
Camp
isn’t
for
everyone,
but if it is for you, it is the most
wonderful experience of your
life. Camp is singing and dancing
for no reason and dressing in
dumb costumes for the day just
because you can. It’s making up
interpretive dances to Disney
songs, writing and performing
recurring skits about deadly
beans, and waking your friends
up at midnight to force feed
them Animal Crackers and dress
them in adult diapers (an actual
thing I did at camp, the context is
unimportant).
I am a worrier by nature.
I stress about school, life and
relationships. I hate being with
loud groups in public and I
always follow the rules. But at
camp, rules just aren’t the same
as they are everywhere else. The
weight on my shoulders, where
all of those slightly neurotic
concerns normally live, is lifted.
Each summer since I was seven
years old I was liberated from
my self-imposed restraints, and
I was a better version of myself
on camp grounds than I could
be anywhere else. I could be
silly and adventurous and find
the fun in every situation. It
was just a month of my year, but
every summer the campers, staff
and place came together like a
transient piece of theatre. One
moment it was there, beautiful
and outsized and poignant, and
then it was gone, avoiding capture
until the next summer solstice.
I always felt a sense of
mourning when I had to leave
camp and return to the real
world, because I had to say
goodbye to this person I loved
being. I began this column with
a lyric from the very last song we
sing on the last night of camp. We
gather in a circle with our cabin,
looking at the faces of those
we have come to love, and sing
about how we may never see one
another again. I would tear up in
the dark, thinking of leaving and
being so far away from my friends
and, especially, my better self.
In this semester’s column,
I am looking back to revisit
the different people I have
been throughout my life. I am
separated from them by swaths
of time, making them feel like
historical
figures.
They
are
unreachable and unrecoverable,
but there is a great deal to be
learned from them. However, the
person I am at camp is not frozen
in time, 10 years back. She exists
just three hours from here. She
has a geographical home, not a
chronological one, and for that
reason it has been all the more
difficult to say goodbye to her as
I choose to spend my summers
elsewhere. With every internship
or study abroad application, I feel
as though I am cutting ties with
the best version of myself.
I do get glimpses of her,
though, in my everyday life.
She appears when I’m at a party
and not having fun, and then
“Everytime We Touch” comes
on, and I break into the floor-
shaking crazy person dancing
who is perfectly normal during
Saturday dance parties at camp.
She appears when a joke is so
funny I forget how loud my
laugh is, or when a friend is
upset and instinct pulls me into
energetic camp counselor mode
to cheer them up, or when a
little enthusiasm sneaks into the
library and breaks up a boring
night of studying.
The pang of grief I felt each
year singing “Bless This House”
on the last night of camp was
always mitigated by the thought
of coming back the next summer
and picking up right where I left
off, reclaiming my silly, carefree
other self; now, though, I don’t
know if I will ever go back. For
10 summers I unwittingly sang
along to Joni Mitchell’s “The
Circle Game,” a camp favorite,
at song sessions, and I so wish I
had heeded her advice, “We’re
captive on the carousel of time …
take your time. It won’t be long
now until you drag your feet to
slow the circles down.”
Life moves on, despite our
best efforts to delay it. I find
myself asking how I can justify
leaving behind this version of
myself I love so much. I realized
the answer to that question
was divulged to me each year
in that midnight cabin circle,
tucked away in the lyrics of that
melancholy tune: “Think of all
the happiness we’ve found here,
take it home and share it with a
friend.”
We all have best versions
of ourselves, though they may
at times feel elusive or distant.
But as long as I capture the
happiness and freedom I found
at camp, storing it carefully for
safekeeping, I will always be
capable of being my best self.
When I smile wide and forget
about the rules for a moment
or two, I will know that my
camp self is stepping out. So,
unfortunately for my friends, I
won’t stop talking about camp
anytime soon, even as I spend
more and more time away from
Chardon, Ohio. In fact, there’s
someone really wonderful I met
there, and I’d like to introduce
you.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Monday, October 8, 2018
Emma Chang
Ben Charlson
Joel Danilewitz
Samantha Goldstein
Emily Huhman
Tara Jayaram
Jeremy Kaplan
Lucas Maiman
Magdalena Mihaylova
Ellery Rosenzweig
Jason Rowland
Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Alex Satola
Ali Safawi
Ashley Zhang
Sam Weinberger
DAYTON HARE
Managing Editor
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
ALEXA ST. JOHN
Editor in Chief
ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY AND
ASHLEY ZHANG
Editorial Page Editors
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
ERIK NESLER | COLUMN
Learning a thing or two from Patagonia
E
arly last week, nearly
150 companies launched
a
collective
campaign
to
increase
voter
turnout
in
the
upcoming
midterm
elections. The effort,
known as Time to
Vote, is backed by
some of the largest
U.S.
companies,
including
Walmart,
Dick’s
Sporting
Goods and Levi’s.
According
to
a
Pew Research Center
study after the 2014 midterm
elections, a plurality of eligible
voters couldn’t find the time to
vote, citing that work or school
made it difficult. Because less
than half of of the eligible
population voted in the last
midterm elections, companies
decided to come together to give
their employees (along with the
general public) an opportunity to
vote Nov. 6.
Levi’s, the company known
for its quality jeans, is giving its
corporate employees five hours
and its retail employees three
hours to vote on Election Day.
Lyft chose to participate in the
effort by giving its customers
discounted
rides
to
polling
places. The ride-sharing app
is also planning on providing
free rides to people in the most
underprivileged neighborhoods.
The company taking the
boldest action to further improve
voter turnout is Patagonia, which
has committed to completely
shutting down its corporate
headquarters and all of its retail
stores on Election Day.
Patagonia
CEO
Rose
Marcario
underscored
the
importance of getting people
to vote, asserting “a vibrant
democracy relies on engaged
citizens voting” and “business
can play a vital role by removing
barriers.”
While the companies claim
the effort is nonpartisan, their
rationale
is
quite
obvious
given the decisive nature of
this election season. Patagonia
in particular has voiced its
strong
disapproval
for
the
current
administration.
When
President
Donald
Trump
abandoned
the
2015 Paris Climate
Accord,
Patagonia
was one of hundreds
of
companies
to
condemn
his
decision. In addition,
the company filed a
lawsuit last year against Trump,
Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke
and other Trump administration
officials. The company, along
with several other parties, chose
to fight the president’s decision
to reduce the extent of two
national monuments in Utah –
Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-
Escalante – to less than half
their original size.
Since its founding in 1973 by
Yvon Chouinard, Patagonia has
been unapologetically political.
The company has devoted itself
to positively impacting society—
particularly
in
regard
to
environmental stewardship. The
company is well known for its
corporate social responsibility
efforts, which include its pledge
to give 1 percent of its revenue
to
grassroots
environmental
organizations every year.
Beyond
simply
donating
money, the company has proven
to
be
radically
transparent
in regard to its production
processes. On the company’s
website, you can find “The
Footprint
Chronicles,”
an
interactive map that catalogues
the
complete
environmental
impact of its products. You
can see the entire production
process – from the farm to the
mill to the factory. Patagonia
continues
its
devotion
to
maintaining
sustainable
production processes with its
selling of second-hand products
on its website. The company
also
recycles
products
for
customers when they’re no
longer wearable.
With its commitment to
corporate social responsibility
and its astounding level of
transparency,
Patagonia
has
surely fulfilled its mission to
“use business to inspire and
implement
solutions
to
the
environmental crisis.”
While Patagonia may appear
to function like a nonprofit,
which
would
prioritize
environmental
sustainability
over profits, the company has
achieved impressive financial
results over the years. The
company rakes in hundreds of
millions of dollars in revenue
per year – making Chouinard a
billionaire. It’s clear Patagonia’s
commitment to environmental
preservation
has
attracted
a substantial (and growing)
consumer
base
that
values
companies with a conscience.
Patagonia
isn’t
the
only
company that can achieve such
favorable results. Private sector
entities have been (and should
be) involving themselves in the
public sphere. In a piece for The
New York Times, David Gelles
writes of a survey’s results
comprising more than 1,000
Americans’ thoughts regarding
CEO involvement in the public
sector. He states more than 33
percent of survey respondents
view it favorably and almost 50
percent believe CEO activism
can
influence
government
policy.
The private sector can learn
a lot from Patagonia and a slew
of other companies that are
working to change the world.
Society could benefit immensely
from
the
private
sector
committing itself to furthering
socially beneficial goals – goals
that go beyond just maximizing
shareholder value.
Bless this house
Brett Kavanaugh and the year of the woman
KENDALL HECKER | COLUMN
Erik Nesler can be reached at
egnesler@umich.edu
W
hat
is
appropriate
etiquette when invited
to a local home for
dinner in a foreign country? This
question was the source of much
anxiety during my recent trip to
Kenya, as part of the C.K. Prahalad
Fellowship at the Ross School of
Business. Although I had previously
lived in Kenya before returning to
business school, this was a question
that I never fully grasped the
answer to. Growing up in the United
States, it was not typically expected
that you should bring a gift when
visiting a friend. If invited to dinner,
you may be asked to bring a dish to
pass or provide desert, though it is
by no means expected. However,
U.S. culture is unique in this regard
compared to much of the world.
I knew that in Kenyan culture it is
inappropriate to visit a friend’s home
empty-handed. However, what is
an appropriate gift? A piece of art?
Dessert? A quilt? During previous
visits to the homes of Kenyan
friends, I never seemed to find the
perfect gift. I had tried cookies,
fruit, local handcrafts, you name it. I
could always tell from reactions that
I had missed the mark.
This time, I was determined to
get it right. During one weekend of
my fellowship experience, I planned
to visit the home of my good friend
Robinson and his family. I met
Robinson in 2009 during my first
trip to Kenya. We were working
together in a community-based
program to develop clean water
solutions for the arid lands of Kenya.
We became instant friends and have
remained in contact ever since. I
remember when his children were
born, who are now two and six years
old. At my wedding, he flew from
Kenya to Oklahoma to stand up as
one of my groomsmen.
When the opportunity arose to
return to Kenya, I was excited for
the opportunity to apply what I
was learning at the Ross School of
Business to a real-world problem.
Through
the
C.K.
Prahalad
Fellowship, I was going to be visiting
hospitals in Kenya and examining
the cause of infant mortality. I was
also exploring business solutions
to this global problem, particularly
through the lens of a low-cost
ventilator that had been developed
by an Ann Arbor startup. Outside
of my work, I was looking forward
to catching up with my good friend
Robinson and family.
When the day came to visit
Robinson’s home, I wanted to ensure
I got it right. Kenyans are incredibly
welcoming people and would never
look down on a foreigner for not
bringing a gift to dinner. However,
it was important to me that I would
not be seen as a foreigner, especially
to my close friend. I spoke with
other Kenyans, trying to decipher
what would be an appropriate gift.
I was told that food is a good gift to
bring, but I had tried that before and
failed.
After
much
deliberation,
I
decided to take a risk. Knowing that
many Kenyans raise animals as a
source of livelihood, I discovered
the perfect gift. But what live
animal could I bring? It would be
difficult to find a sheep or goat
in Nairobi and a chicken was too
cheap of a present. I drove outside
the town until I came to a small
village where I had previously seen
animals along the road. There I
parked the car and described my
predicament to the owner of a small
vegetable stand. She immediately
began describing a large bird she
had seen for the first time earlier
that day. After perusing photos on
her cell phone, I realized she was
referring to a turkey. I followed
her directions into the village until
I found it. Unfortunately, I only
had 4,000 Kenyan Shillings in my
pocket and that particular turkey
was worth far more.
TIM CARTER | WOLVERINES ABROAD
Cultural etiquette, learning from a fowl
Tim Carter is a University of
Michigan alumnus.
I
f the past few weeks
have taught us anything,
except how misogyny is
still swiftly flowing
through the veins of
America, it is that
2018 is not the year
of the woman.
A
year
after
Anita Hill testified
before the all-male
Senate
Judiciary
Committee alleging
Clarence
Thomas
sexually
assaulted
her, 1992 was dubbed
the “Year of the Woman.” More
women than ever before ran for
elected office, many of whom
credited the injustice of the
Thomas hearings as a primary
motivating
factor.
Current
Sens. Dianne Feinstein and
Patty Murray, as well as former
Sens. Carol Moseley Braun and
Barbara Boxer, chose to run
for the U.S. Senate specifically
because they were appalled at
the treatment of Hill by the all-
male committee panel. They
wondered what could have
been different had there been a
woman, or two or three, on the
committee questioning Hill
and Thomas.
While the strides women
made in 1992 are important
for the history of increasingly
equal representation in the
U.S. government, the year of
the woman did not ultimately
succeed as it ended with the
election of a man whose sexual
improprieties were more than
problematic.
Almost 30 years later, many
pundits
and
commentators
have haphazardly designated
2018 another “Year of the
Woman” after a record number
of women have filed to run for
elected office and, in many
cases, won their primaries
and are predicted to win in
November.
Many bad men, including
former CBS CEO Les Moonves,
former
Texas
Rep.
Blake
Farenthold and former news
anchor Charlie Rose, have been
cast down from their towers
of power following excellent
reporting on how each used
their societal power
and male privilege
to sexually harass
and assault women.
For the cherry on
top, female physicist
Donna
Strickland
just won the Nobel
Prize in physics.
At the same time,
Brett
Kavanaugh
was just confirmed
to the highest court
in the country despite being
credibly accused of sexual
assault
and
demonstrating
what can almost certainly be
considered the exact opposite
of judicial temperance.
Kavanaugh and Mark Judge,
a
friend
of
Kavanaugh’s,
allegedly shoved Christine
Blasey Ford into a bedroom,
played loud music to drown out
her cries for help, repeatedly
and
violently
groped
her
and
drunkenly
attempted
to
remove
her
clothing.
Since Ford so courageously
shared her story of the most
traumatic night of her life,
several other women have
also accused Kavanaugh of
sexual misconduct, including
exposing himself, forcing a
woman to touch him without
consent and being present
during a gang rape.
A
year
of
the
woman
does not include a man like
Kavanaugh being nominated
to the Supreme Court. It
does not even include the
nomination of a man who
has
the
ability
to
strip
the reproductive rights of
millions of American women,
in
addition
to
stripping
other
individual
freedoms
such
as
voting
rights
or
queer women’s right to legal
marriage. It also does not
include a Republican-sided
all-male
Senate
Judiciary
Committee
that
forces
a
woman to testify about the
most traumatic moment of her
life over several days without
allowing other witnesses to
testify. It does not include
hiring a female prosecutor
to
question
and
attempt
to discredit the woman to
avoid bad optics — all while
throwing
tantrums
about
how this man’s life is ruined
because he might not get the
job he wanted.
In a year of the woman,
there is most certainly not a
president of the United States
who brags about sexually
assaulting women, has dozens
of sexual assault allegations
against
him,
mocks
the
brave woman standing up
to Kavanaugh or bemoans
how terrible the world is to
men while saying women are
doing great.
The
next
presidential
election will take place in
the year marking the 100th
anniversary of the ratification
of
the
19th
Amendment,
which constitutionally gave
women the right to vote;
however, it is important to
note it only guaranteed white
women suffrage and it took
another 45 years before all
women could vote. Though
2020 will already be symbolic
of this anniversary, it has the
chance to finally fulfill the
promise of being a year for
women through the election
of the first female President
of the United States.
Marisa White can be reached at
marisadw@umich.edu
MARISA WRIGHT | COLUMN
Kendall Hecker can be reached at
kfhecker@umich.edu
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Life moves on,
despite our best
efforts to delay it.
MARISA
WRIGHT
A year of the
woman does not
include a man like
Kavanaugh being
nominated
ERIK
NESLER