“Something is being made in 
this room.” 
I hadn’t heard many other 
people speak as passionately 
about a space as Groundcover 
News editor-in-chief Lindsay 
Calka spoke of their office. 
I 
descended 
late 
Monday 
morning into the basement of 
Bethlehem United Church of 
Christ: It was a space in motion, 
a breathing entity. Over text to 
The Statement’s photographer, 
I described it as “an office, 
kitchen, lounge, storage all in 
one. And people seem to always 
be there.” All these functions 
mix the character of the space 
into its own distinct spirit.
Groundcover 
News 
is 
a 
‘street paper’ — meaning that 
the vendors of the paper are 
unhoused or housing insecure 
persons — and in the case of 
Groundcover, the paper sales 
serve directly as income for the 
vendors. Outside of the vendors, 
the paper is almost completely 
run by volunteers. 
The 
prevalence 
of 
street 
newspapers may be growing, 
but still constitute not even a 
fraction of the news industry. 
Although the first modern street 
paper is widely regarded as New 
York City’s Street News founded 
in 1989, the unhoused and those 
afflicted by poverty have used the 
news as a means to reflect issues 
not covered by the mainstream at 
least as far back as the early 20th 
century (The start date varies 
based on one’s definition of what 
qualifies a newspaper as a street 
paper). Today there are more 
than 100 street papers published 
globally in at least 34 countries. 
This week I read Groundcover 
News’s October 1st edition from 
front to back: it cost two dollars. 
Stories ranged from a touching 
obituary for community member 
Brian Coliton, the conflicting 
social legacy of the Fleming 

Administration Building as it’s 
being torn down, a contemplative 
historical piece on the meaning 
behind Indigenous People’s Day 
and an anonymous contribution 
on the disturbing conditions 
inside Michigan prisons that 
advocates for guard bodycams. 
Vendors wrote about half 
of the pieces in the edition. 
Lindsay described the paper 
as 
representing 
“hyperlocal 
community voices.” Groundcover 
doesn’t attempt to tackle all areas 
of news reporting, though topics 
“are always timely,” Lindsay 
said. “If it’s a big story connected 
to the social service landscape 
or conditions of poverty or 
homelessness, we’re covering 
that. 
Social 
justice 
news, 
community opinion and creative 
pieces are our niche.” 
Groundcover vendor Laurzell 
Washington calls Groundcover a 
“beautiful process of journalism” 
and his work “fulfilling in terms 
of dealing with people. You’ll be 
surprised who you meet… All 
sorts of people have a story to 
tell.” 
Laurzell 
is 
a 
great 
conversationalist; I met him 
while he was making a sandwich, 
grabbing lunch in the newsroom. 
He 
possesses 
a 
thoughtful 
demeanor, and an empathy that 
won’t take shit, but will forgive. 
We took residency in two chairs 
that sat just right, sinking to 
comfort. I asked him what made 
Groundover work.
“The average person tries 
to work with each other,” he 
started. “And a lot of employees 
come from the homeless sector, 
so I think a lot of people are 
motivated with Groundcover. 
If you been somewhere and 
understand where somewhere is, 
you ain’t so quick to put someone 
else down.”
The 
importance 
of 
understanding a place was a 
common thread throughout a 
lot of my conversations with the 
Groundcover team. 
As we got to know one another, 

Laurzell and I realized we both 
had 
lived 
in 
Massachusetts 
and Michigan. We reflected on 
our experiences in both places, 
similarities 
and 
differences. 
Our conversation also covered 
politics, 
from 
the 
Russian-
Ukraine war, the FBI seizure 
in Mar-A-Lago to why people 
are drawn to Trump. Laurzell 
recently wrote an article for 
Groundcover on the war in 
Ukraine.
In Lindsay’s own words, the 
biggest piece of Groundcover 
is that “it invites people into 
conversation and relationship.” 
Groundcover 
has 
a 
“dual-
prong mission of low barrier 
employment 
(and 
uplifting) 
community 
voices, 
voices 
that 
are 
marginalized,” 
she 
asserted. How these two parts of 
Groundcovers’ mission “meet in 
the middle is you have to buy the 
paper from someone, and that to 
people can be revolutionary.” 
When I first bought my paper, 
I was walking back from the 
pitch meeting for this piece at 
the Daily. I don’t remember 
my 
vendor’s 
name, 
but 
I 
remember that we laughed 
about 
technology. 
He 
told 
me to put his vendor number 
into the caption for my venmo 
payment for the paper. QR 
codes for cashless payment can 
be found on the bottom right 
corner of Groundcover papers 
— a feature Lindsay worked 
hard for. That night I was just 
beginning to come down sick, 
so I preferred to rush home. 
Still, in an increasingly digital 
world, unforeseen interactions 
tinge it a little rosier. 
English 126 – “Community-
Engaged Writing” and 221 
- 
“Literature 
and 
Writing 
Outside The Classroom” have 
both developed relationships 
with Groundcover over the 
past few years. I spoke with 
Prof. John Buckley, instructor 
of both of these courses, who 
spoke to the profundity of the 
interactions street papers like 

Groundcover initiate.
“To make change in society, 
everyone has to work together,” 
he said. “In order to get 
everyone to work together, you 
need thousands of one-on-one 
conversations. In order to buy 
the paper, you are a human 
talking 
to 
another 
human. 
Trading compassion fatigue for 
a moment of empathy.” 
Jay, 
the 
other 
vendor 
I 
spoke 
with, 
who 
refrained 
from providing his last name, 
also identified the ways in 
which 
Groundcover 
fosters 
social good. He emphasized 
the 
economic 
opportunities 
Groundcover provides vendors, 
and how the relative stability 
of 
that 
income 
generates 
other opportunities. Cleaning 
services and boober businesses 
have both grown from the 
Groundcover community, Jay 
said.
“You’re 
learning 
things 
about business and managing 

money by working here that’s 
not understood by the average 
person… What I love about 
Groundcover (is) if you want 
to learn, it teaches you how to 
fish.” Or, it’s better to be taught 
a skill than just be given the 
benefits. 
Jay emphasized in much 
of 
our 
conversation 
how 
transformative it is for one’s 
mindset 
to 
transition 
from 
having 
to 
constantly 
think 
about the next meal and where 
to sleep, to being able to consider 
one’s livelihood and the world 
around 
them. 
Employment 
centers 
like 
Groundcover 
“bridge the gap,” so people can 
create for themselves thanks 
to a community of people that 
genuinely care.
Yet, not all services for the 
unhoused and housing insecure 
promote the same opportunities 
for 
all. 
Sometimes 
the 
altruistic people running these 
organizations center themselves 

via “criteria of helping” that 
doesn’t always effectively meet 
the challenges of poverty. One 
example Jay points to is the 
prominence of organizations for 
those struggling with drug or 
alcohol addiction whose tactics 
don’t always effectively battle 
addiction.
Simultaneously, those who 
are food and housing insecure 
for less altruistically popular 
reasons struggle for similar 
aid. Jay concludes his thoughts, 
“Forget free college. The idea 
that everyone can eat, that 
alone, and basic shelter, those 
things can change the world.” 
I 
sought 
from 
my 
interviewees how the Daily, 
a paper so intrinsically tied 
with a mammoth institution, 
relates to the city of Ann Arbor. 
Lindsay gave her praises for the 
rigorousness and investigative 
work of our journalism.

Prior to this semester, I only 
used the term marathon to describe 
26-mile-long runs and a 24-hour 
viewing of Harry Potter movies. 
Now, as a sophomore in college, I can 
add three consecutive days of exams, 
several all-nighters and the wish 
that caffeine came in an IV to the list 
of marathon-level activities in my 
vocabulary. 
Last 
Friday 
night, 
after 
I 
lost my self esteem in a lecture 
hall 
temporarily 
titled 
“exam 
room three,” I came home to my 
housemates and neighbors sitting on 
our living room floor, yelling at each 
other over an intense game of Cards 
Against Humanity. While I could 
have chosen to sleep, or at least nap, 
I ultimately dropped my backpack 
for the first time in 72 hours and 

joined them on a carpet in need of 
vacuuming. 
It was euphoric. The knowledge 
that I was done choosing between 
answers A or C amid a harshly-lit 
auditorium transported me to an 
elevated plane of pure happiness.
But, before I could stop my 
consciousness from wandering, I felt 
a uniquely disturbing pressure to 
make the most of this moment. After 
so much wasted time on insanity-
fueling multiple choice questions and 
solitary study nights, a heightened 
need to make up for the youthful, 
college fun I missed out on the weeks 
before loomed over my head.
Although I was physically and 
mentally exhausted, I chose to stay 
up with my friends — feeling as 
though my time as a young person 
was slipping away. Supposedly, I 
will one day remember these four 
years as “the best days of my life” — a 
phenomenon closely correlated with 

the heavily-documented, distinctly-
American obsession with youth. 
But why are we so obsessed with 
staying young anyway? Who does 
this infatuation really benefit? 
***
The promotion of youthfulness in 
the media goes back decades. 
In conversation with Professor 
Susan Douglas — communications 
& media professor at the University 
of Michigan, and author of “In 
Our Prime: How Older Women 
are Reinventing the Road Ahead” 
— I learned about the extensive 
marketing history supporting the 
American culture’s infatuation with 
youth. 
According to Professor Douglas, 
there has always been negative 
media messaging surrounding aging. 
However, when the young-adult baby 
boomers of the post-war era entered 
the market around the 1960s, media 
and marketing tools that promoted 

the value of youthfulness and ageist 
messages became prolific. Industries 
targeted this new, large consumer 
base by endorsing pop-culture and 
flattering the younger generation 
— suggesting they were “cooler” 
or superior to their parents and 
grandparents. 
Companies found this marketing 
strategy lucrative, as baby boomer 
consumers had a large market 
capture. Professor Douglas explained 
that as a result, music such as rock 
‘n’ roll, young-adult-style films and 
a host of material products geared 
toward 
young 
people 
became 
increasingly prevalent in society. Due 
to the success of these advertising 
tools with the decade’s teens, this 
cultural emphasis on youth persisted 
through the ’70s, ’80s, ’90s and 2000s. 
As a lover of arts and pop-culture 
content, I’m familiar with a variety 
of musical sensations, top-rated TV 
shows and treasured coming-of-age 
narratives. Songs like “Jack & Diane,” 
“Summer of ‘69” and “We Are 
Young,” trained me to idolize my teen 
and college-aged years as the most 
valuable time life has to offer. 
“Oh yeah / Life goes on, long after 
the thrill of living is gone…Holdin’ on 
to sixteen as long as you can / Change 
is coming ‘round real soon / Make us 
women and men.” 
While “Jack & Diane” earned 
its spot in the American-anthem 
repertoire for its catchy tune and 
clever rhymes, I wonder if John 
Mellencamp’s lyrics contributed to 
the song’s allure. According to this 
beloved ’80s artist, becoming women 
and men — or more specifically, 
exiting your teen years — eliminates 
the possibility of a “thrilling” or 
enjoyable existence within the latter 
decades of your life. 
However, imagining my 16-year-
old self as the peak cumulation of my 
life is both a horrifying and entirely 
false concept. Not only am I happier 
as a 19-year-old in college, but I 
am also a better person in terms of 
identity growth and autonomous 
development. 
Therefore, it should be easy to 
disregard the notion that my late 
teens and twenties are “the best 
days of my life,” and I should ignore 
Pitbull lyrics like, “We might not 

get tomorrow, so let’s do it tonight.” 
Yet, nonetheless, I continue to catch 
myself feeling the need to mimic the 
wild and spontaneous characters 
in the latest teen Netflix dramas, in 
order to ‘have fun while I can.’ But 
why?
In speaking with Professor Sonya 
Dal Cin — communications & media 
professor and adjunct professor of 
psychology at the University — I 
learned how compounded marketing 
messages and societal influence 
may promote this contradictory self-
image. 
“We know from extensive research 
in psychology and communications 
that messages prevalent in society 
often reflect societal values, but 
they also have an impact on how we 
see ourselves,” said Dal Cin. “What 
people are exposed to does impact 
the way they make sense of their own 
lives.” 
Dal Cin goes on to describe the 
implications these environmental 
factors may have on a person’s self 
esteem. 
“There are a range of different 
ways in which people think about 
what’s 
important 
in 
life, 
and, 
therefore, how they may or may not 
be meeting what they view as the 
ideal self,” said Dal Cin. 
She 
delineated 
how 
the 
inconsistencies between what people 
think they should be versus what 
they actually are can cause tension. 
“In psychology, there is this 
concept of ideal self versus the actual 
self. When there is a discrepancy 
between the ideal self and the actual 
self, it can cause some difficulties in 
how people feel about their identity,” 
Dal Cin said.
Therefore, 
messages 
about 
youth 
and 
age 
can 
certainly 
affect personhood and self-image 
depending on how an individual 
places value on the media, the culture 
of their environment and their 
understanding of actual and ideal 
selves. 
Professor 
Douglas 
describes 
how this concept, deriving from self 
esteem issues, allows for markets to 
capitalize on a culturally-produced, 
collectively-felt fear of aging. 
According to Professor Douglas, a 
binary was created in the 1960s that 

pinned ‘old’ and ‘young’ against one 
another. Negative messages about 
older generations, specifically the 
women in those generations, were 
cemented into American culture 
through television and other public 
platforms. 
Professor Douglas mentioned how 
Disney often portrayed elderly female 
characters as crazy grandmothers, 
hideous witches and evil mothers. 
I’m reminded of Snow White’s 
stepmother, the Evil Queen, who 
disguised herself as an old woman 
in order to trick the fair princess into 
eating a poison apple, all because she 
was jealous of the princess’s beauty.
Characters like Disney’s Evil 
Queen were juxtaposed with young 
female characters, often princesses, 
who represented beauty, kindness, 
happiness and desirability.
By reinforcing this binary in 
popular culture, the media capitalizes 
on the association that old women are 
‘bad’ and young women are ‘good.’ 
“They tell us we can’t be happy 
with wrinkles and eyebags. And they 
engrain those beauty standards in 
the minds of young people early on,” 
said Douglas. “The job of the entire 
anti-aging industrial complex is to 
make everybody phobic about getting 
older. It’s a great strategy, because 
everybody is always getting older, 
and nobody can escape it — creating 
a constantly renewing and endless 
market.” 
After speaking with both Professor 
Douglas and Professor Dal Cin, I 
have a newfound motivation to resist 
the youth-oriented pressure that the 
American consumer industry has 
created.
While I’m sure the 2012 version of 
One Direction believed we needed 
to “go crazy, crazy, crazy” and “live 
while we’re young,” I think we can 
all agree that the band’s former 
lead singer, Harry Styles, is “living 
it up” more as he approaches thirty 
than when he first performed that 
song at eighteen. His overwhelming 
popularity and sold-out stadiums 
certainly serve as evidence to that 
fact.
And surely John Mellencamp 
enjoyed life after he made it big with 
“Jack and Diane.” He did become 
a musical legacy, after all. 

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
6 — Wednesday, October 19, 2022
S T A T E M E N T

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

NATE SHEEHAN
Statement Columnist

In conversation with Groundcover: Ann Arbor’s street paper

America’s obsession with staying young

REESE MARTIN
Statement Columnist

JEREMY WEINE/Daily