By {Sarah Williamson} | gargoyle@flagler.edu
This Labor Day Weekend was irregular.
Joshua Santos and I spent the weekend at the COSAC Homeless Shelter in Hollywood, Fla. Our mission, along with 20 other college journalists, was to find stories and put together an online and print publication in only 36 hours.
“When you call yourself an Indian or a Muslim or a Christian or a European, or anything else, you are being violent. Do you see why it is violent? Because you are separating yourself from the rest of mankind. When you separate yourself by belief, by nationality, by tradition, it breeds violence. So a man who is seeking to understand violence does not belong to any country, to any religion, to any political party or partial system; he is concerned with the total understanding of mankind.” – Krishnamurti
I had no idea he was engaged, but in 2011, when I found out he married the person he had devoted his life to for the last fifteen years, I was elated. The two St. Augustine residents decided to marry for a common reason:
By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
As soon as I touched her wrist I felt ice. It is a feeling that you don’t expect. Touch the desk in your room and it’s room temperature. Touch a dead body and quickly discover just how cold it is after heat and life have evaporated. The chills down your spine don’t compare.
By Phil Grech | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Everything has an expiration date, no matter how filled with preservatives. Milk. Veggie burgers. Canned goods. Pasta in a box accompanied by questionable powder mix. And apparently even chivalry.
By Adam Hunt | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Growing up in England, local TV news was never on my radar. As Britain would comfortably fit inside Florida, there just isn’t a market for it in a country so small.
Instead, I was served national news on a daily basis by the BBC or Sky. Prim and polished anchors with non-regional accents were commonplace and hardly a Doppler radar could be seen.
Ah, the ’50s. Squeaky-clean, patriotic American men came home to find their pipe and slippers set out by their dutiful and doting wives. Their 2.5 children would be in the “parlor” working hard on today’s batch of homework and making themselves some Ovaltine, labels out. Monday morning brought the grind and Sunday morning brought church. We were, in short, a country made up of Cleavers.
By Lauren Ely | gargoyle@flagler.edu
The state of Florida may legally allow murderers to walk the streets.
Florida’s “Stand Your Ground” law has come under scrutiny in the wake of the Trayvon Martin shooting. The law says that when threatened, people do not have to retreat and may use deadly force in self-defense. However, in the Martin case, many believe the law is protecting a man who doesn’t deserve it.
By Eric Albury | gargoyle@flagler.edu
He finally did it. John Calipari of the Kentucky Wildcats has managed to get his first NCAA Championship after 24 years of coaching college men’s basketball. But with this glorious celebration comes the bittersweet moment of saying goodbye to many of the players that made this season possible.
Many of Calipari’s squad this season will be entering the NBA Draft in June, including freshman Anthony Davis, who is speculated to be the first pick in the draft, in addition to winning the 2012 National Player of the Year and NCAA Tournament Most Outstanding Player awards.
By Eliza Jordan | gargoyle@flagler.edu
My blood felt like it was boiling. I felt like I was suddenly hung out to dry and forgotten about. Almost as if I knew I had limbs but couldn’t use them. Stuck in a tree and couldn’t get down. Hopeless and looking to others for answers. But all of these feelings were real feelings that I could feel. And every other feeling I felt, I thought, Kyle can no longer feel.
We grew up together— St. Augustine local toddlers who magically morphed into successful college students, and despite the distance, still kept in contact from time to time. Kyle was a beautiful person. And if beautiful could be an understatement, it would be. Unlike many other young men around the age of 21, he was gentle, and spoke realistically with sincerity more often than not.
By Siyeda Mahmoud | gargoyle@flagler.edu
Looking into her eyes I could tell that she no longer had any recollection of who I was. I reached out to touch her hand as I had done many times before. I thought I was doing it to comfort her, but in reality I was probably trying to comfort myself. It’s almost a childlike gesture that we do when we are in need of some form of security; it’s the power of human touch.
The realization of knowing that it would never be the same again was a hard pill to swallow.