Saturday, May 28, 2011

Is it still a writing center if no one is here to conference?

My vote: Yes
So far the writing center and my summer hideaway has been abustle with activity. Between working on the summer newsletter, next years calendar, and cleaning out old faithful (the refrigerator), there is rarely a dull moment. In fact last weeks adventures in the depths of the refrigerator yielded a treasure of miscellaneous foodstuffs. The top five things found the WC fridge:

5. An unopened Rockstar
4. A half-gallon tupperware of canned pears, labeled Tuna.
3. Baked beans and lots of 'em.
2. A pitcher of slightly green iced tea.
1. One full pound of creamed cheese set to expire next month. Not quite sure what I'll do with this fortune just yet...

Happy summer to all you folks and be sure to check out Beth's Baseball [May Term] Blog.
- Emily C.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Second Semester Blog Recap

Well, finals have passed and a new blog team will be taking over for the summer. We hope you've enjoyed the past few months and the weekly posts we've made. The blog is alive once again and we wish it the best of luck in the upcoming months!

- The Blogsters

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Photo of the Week: Publications Are Out!

Good news! The publications are coming out and we are excited to see and read them. Look around Coe for copies of The Pearl, The Coe Review, and Colere.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Reminiscing the Past: Part XII

by Kaylyn Evans

1929, the father is the last to pass on. And rest he shall among the family. The grounds are shaded by cedar and they face a land of opportunity and openness. A new foreign land is where the Malўs called home and most likely prospered. The size of the headstone and its detail must have cost much of what they had saved, but it is worth this cost to keep their name out there for a lonely and infrequent passerby to see.

Josef and Frantska now lie with their children by their sides. The Malўs are protected by the cedar trees and the dew soaked grass. The calm, warm winds clean them on this beautiful September morning. Their bodies are blanketed by the moist, deep Earth. They are minded by their God they chose to believe in and are guarded by the noble Saints Peter and Paul. Where they lie is separated only by a gravel road from the house of their God.

They rest in the pristine cemetery with a solid, lightly decorated and polished gray monument that stands above their heads where Josef, Frantska and their three children's names are now carved into time. Their native language of Czech adorns the lovely headstones. Frantska, a beloved daughter and mother, is memorialized with a sentence that only a few may translate and understand. I wonder what is said of her. I wonder who decided to leave words just for her. A massive agave has grown next to her headstone, making her blessed by the earth Herself.

However, happiness has not always befallen the Malўs. Two were lost far too young. Only days old and they were to be buried within the family plot. They now are among the parents and brother, Lancelot, they never knew. Miloslav and Josef Jr., twins, will always be remembered and loved, even after such a short life. Josef and Frantska had to watch Miloslav be taken after three days of life, and then they had to endure the pain again as Josef Jr. was also taken only a few days after his second half. A passerby, like myself, could not imagine what pain and heartache that would cause; how could two parents survive that? Yet again Josef had to watch as his young son, Lancelot, be taken away too, not long after Frantska, but quite some time after his brothers. Poor, poor Josef! My heart aches for the Malўs; how traumatic their life had to have been with so many young graces lost. And poor Josef had to live multiple years with only the headstones that must have cost much of his hard-earned money; these seemingly being the only tangible pieces of them left for him. How did he make it through? Did he throw himself into whatever work that made him most likely prosper in the eyes of business men? But he did not prosper in his life because his Lord took his family away far too soon.

Yet now death does not walk along these rows of heroes, patrons, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters. New forms of life spring from the earth and prevail in the place of the loved ones who were lost, in the place of the tragedies that many, most likely, felt. Families watch over the quiet and lovely graves. Their family tombstones enlighten us all of those who once lived before us. Sadness does not fall here, but happiness for the lives of those who once brought joy shines through.