A Blog on McConnell Center Life

By Claire Harmon Guilty pleasures are the acts we perform for purely selfish reasons, the ways we appease the monkey brain inside us demanding we do something fun   simply for the sake of having fun .  For many people, guilty pleasures are eating midnight snacks, staying in pajamas all day, or singing loudly in the car. People feel “guilty” about their pleasures for any number of reasons. It can be embarrassing to admit that we do things other people might think are cringe-worthy or weird. It can also be uncomfortable to admit that we indulge ourselves in acts that yield no discernible product other than pure entertainment or enjoyment. In a career-driven world of ever-increasing demands, responsibilities, and expectations, these pleasures fill us with shame because we aren’t “making use” of our time, or we’re doing something that doesn’t meet society’s standards for “normal behavior.” How dare you eat a midnight snack when you’re supposed to be on a diet? What...

Jayber Crow   by Wendell Berry (Counterpoint, 2001) Recommended by  Dr. Gary L. Gregg, II , McConnell Center The McConnell Center recently had the opportunity to host the great Kentucky writer Wendell Berry on campus (see video link in this issue of Meditations). Wendell is a poet, an essayist and a novelist who has been writing acclaimed works for more than half a century. Well known as an environmentalist and farmer, Berry is also one of the most important voices in America today expressing concerns with the health of our communities and our fellow citizens who depend on them. It is his concern with community that I wish to call to your attention today through recommending his masterpiece, Jayber Crow . Jayber Crow   is part of of a series of novels set in the fictional Kentucky town of Port William (based on Wendell’s real hometown of Port Royal, Kentucky). This volume traces the life of the town barber who emigrated to Port William an...

By Madelin Shelton As I sat in eerie Mecosta, Michigan on a chilly October night, listening to my McConnell Scholar family read a ghost story in front of the comforting warmth of the fireplace, I became conscious of a simple, yet life-changing realization: moments like these are why life is worth living.  During my sophomore year of college, life began to feel redundant: wake up, attend class, go to work, tend to your responsibilities, do your homework, go to sleep, repeat. Questions arose in my mind that had seldom materialized before. I began to question what the point of all this was, what made life special or worthwhile, and what kinds of things broke this monotonous cycle. Every day felt like the one before, with a sense of vibrancy unaccounted for. A part of this feeling, no doubt, was loneliness. I felt detached from other people. My life was more centered around responsibilities than relationships. Countless studies have shown that loneliness is n...

By Kieran Waigel Coming into Speed School, my mind was filled with horror stories and statements such as "calculus is impossible," or "say goodbye to any semblance of social life," you know, the typical "you're going to hate your major" sort of anecdotes. Most of all, so I was told, the first three semesters were the most crucial, as the GPA obtained from those semesters will be the GPA I would use to apply for my co-op. Because of this, I was extremely cautious when it came to choosing my activities during my first semester. No joining organizations, no extracurriculars, no real social activities, just school and McConnell activities. I didn't want to over-commit myself and ruin the GPA I was going to need for a co-op and a potential full-time job after graduation.  The resultant semester was as expected, filled with academics and very little time for anything personal or character enriching, or in other words, dull and stress...

By Alli Wade “ It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor”  Many Americans fondly remember singing along to this tune throughout their youth. Its sentiments, however, seem to be fading as time goes on. A recent Pew Research study reports that only 31% of Americans know their neighbors. This figure is staggering. The deeply American concept of community is now becoming a thing of the past. As a conservative, this is particularly troubling. For years, conservative intellectuals have sought to protect the collective wisdom and ‘ordered liberty’ in which America was built upon. As the community diminishes, the wisdom and value it possesses also disappears. Americans must recognize the dire need to conserve the spirit of a vibrant community. The decline of the community is not only harmful for the public good, but also prevents the individual from reaching his full potential. Communities allow Americans to cultivate and fortify their wisdo...

By Austin Dillon “For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity.” -C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters I was raised in the rural Appalachian Mountains of eastern Kentucky. I am the only child of an educator (my mother) and a welder (my father). I was raised in a small home directly next door to my grandparents, who also played a crucial role in my upbringing. With both my parents at work, a substantial portion of my earliest years were spent in my grandparents’ company. The benefits of their early influence on my life endure to this day. My grandmother taught me to read well before I started school, and I have always considered my grandfather to be my best friend, even to this day.  As I aged, my mother helped me navigate the local public school system. Her background in education gave me not only valuable tools for scholastic success, but also an insight into public education. She pushed me toward academic pursuits and supported my increasingly ...

By Bella Beilman One of my closest friends, who just happened to be my high school English teacher and honors advisor, once told me that I am not and wasn’t ever going to be the kid who received a perfect score on their ACT. Honestly, at first it seemed like an insult. I am an intelligent woman, how dare she say this.  However, after much reflection, I realize she is right. I am not the 4.0 GPA, 36 ACT, GSP attendee. I posses a different type of intelligence. Now, I like to think myself somewhat book smart, but this knowledge is not the outstanding type for me. Instead, I believe I am more socially intelligent. Social Intelligence is the ability to successfully build relationships and navigate social environments.  I know that my upbringing had a lot to do with my development of social intelligence. My mother, Alexa, was likely the most socially intelligent person I have ever met. She was empathetic and compassionate. My mother could not only talk to ...

By Gzeonie Hampton You know that old saying “Hurt people, hurt people”? Well, in this life we have all known some variance of hurt and pain or anger and frustration. We have not all been equipped to deal with that in the proper ways. Sometimes we let that frustration build to a point where it is a major part of our everyday lives- coloring all of our interactions for better or worse. We don’t seek out help or even worse some of us don’t realize our angry bitter tendencies. My parents used to tell me that there were things you could do in this life to “block your blessings”. Or in other words, Karma. The energy you put out is so often what you receive from the world.  Coming into adulthood, I have come to realize that in so many ways my lack of patience, understanding, or regard for the feelings of other people has been isolating and destructive to so many relationships and opportunities I could have enjoyed or experienced. The first step is always recognizing ...

By Leah Hazelwood I am not allowed to be angry I cannot perpetuate that trope I am not allowed to be angry My emotions must walk along a tightrope I am not allowed to be angry But I am You see, this stereotype of the “angry black woman” has existed since the Jim Crow era and persist today. Characteristics attached to black womanhood that were formulated to further marginalize a population post slavery. I have been tiptoeing around this trope for as long as I can remember and to this day, I act in a certain matter to avoid being labelled “the angry black woman” but I am angry, and I have every right to be I am angry that you think you can touch my hair without my permission I am angry that you call gentrification “urban renewal” I am angry that you belittle my accomplishments by acting as if I am just filling a quota I am angry that I am not allowed to say no I am angry that I am looked to as the sole representative for blackness and black woma...

By Emily Davis Adapted from the inaugural entry of my summer journal on June 23, 2019 I wonder if all writers have the same feeling when they get a new notebook—this feeling of wonder, excitement, anticipation. The hairs on my arms are actually standing straight as I imagine the stories I’ll write and ideas I’ll ponder. Something about a brand new notebook with clean pages just gives me shivers of excitement. It’s like looking forward to a new school year: all of the parties you’ll go to, friends you’ll make, things you’ll learn, places you’ll go… But I’ve found in reflecting on the past years, that the exciting things I dream of are almost never actualized. I spend the evenings in my room with a book and have and early night. I find people I love and hang out exclusively with them. I learn, but forget. And I find myself a patron of the same old coffee shops and restaurants.  “Next year I’ll try something new.” “Next year will be more adventure-filled.” Why do...

By Will Randolph Julesburg, Colorado is a rather unremarkable place. The town of 1,200 lies a couple miles off the interstate, just south of the Nebraska border. It’s a small collection of buildings, neatly arranged along the grid that is typical of Western towns. Fields of corn grow all around Julesburg and the small state highway that takes one from the interstate to the town weaves and curves through them. The railroad runs through the town, as did the Pony Express, and one can imagine that years ago this must have made Julesburg an important place. Tales of vagrant cowboys and virtuous lawmen fill the town’s history, at one time earning it the moniker of “The Wickedest City in the West.”      But this is no longer the case. Now, to any passing observers, Julesburg feels as unimportant and uninteresting as the miles of cornfields that surround it. A small town on the Great Plains, it has no tourist attractions. It has produced no notable residents. See...

By Lauren Reuss I stow my barely zipped backpack under the seat and buckle the clunky belt for takeoff.  The flight attendant in her plum vest opens the emergency handbook, signaling the exits and demonstrating how to manually inflate the sunny life-vest and secure the oxygen masks, but I’m not on the plane at all.  The University awaits my return, its due-dates and deadlines and laundry room, permeated with the smell of all the detergent I’ll be using but right now, my head and heart are back on the van, driving through the lively mountains on wide red roads.  I can’t help but think how blessed I am. While most people vacationed on the beaches of Ft. Lauderdale and Daytona for spring break, I was given the opportunity to explore beaches (and ruins and dental offices and classrooms) out of the country.  At the invitation of the extraordinary Dr. Joy Hart and with the help of the McConnell Center and Humana, I was able to participate in the International ...