The Cornell Daily Sun (https://cornellsun.com/tag/history/page/2/)
“Andy Kerr’s Colgate team came down to Ithaca again this year ‘merely for the ride’ as the aerial blitzkrieg of the Cornell gridders walloped the Red Raiders on Schoellkopf Field Saturday afternoon by a score of 34-0,” wrote The Sun’s Bob MacFarland in that Monday’s paper in 1940.
New professors join the ILR School, diving into their passions, plans and research.
Despite making up just about two percent of the U.S. population, Jews remain keepers of an incredibly varied culture. We see this first-hand in the wide range of Jewish identities which exist in America alone — an Israeli Jew may arrive in the U.S. cooking with chickpeas and pomegranates, only to balk at the copious amounts of “white food” which many Ashkenazi Jews consume. Likewise, latkes and gefilte fish may seem so intrinsically Jewish to these Eastern European Jewish communities that shunning them is to eschew Judaism entirely. Jewish culture is, therefore, dependent upon the interpreter’s own experiences, creating a collection of identities as varied as its people. Yet despite their differences, these groups unite themselves under the larger “Jewish” title, celebrating tradition and commitment to the community in similar ways: Through food.
Before the whir of life-changing events and the unprecedented-ness that has characterized the past six months, I was bent over my notebook for Black Radical Tradition in the U.S., taught by Professor Russell Rickford, Africana and American Studies, rushing to sloppily jot down his last sentence: “Americanism is ahistorical.”
More recently, sitting on my couch instead of a desk and staring not at slides but the rolling credits for Spike Lee’s most recent war drama, Da 5 Bloods, I heard an echo of Prof. Rickford in the back of my head. And since then, I’ve been reminded of those three words so often that I now hear them in my own voice, as I read people’s denialism about the United States’ militant capacity to conquer civilians. Specifically its own citizens. Over videos of federal agents deployed on the streets of New York, Portland and Chicago, Homeland Security Investigations officers brutalizing protestors and plainclothes cops snatching people into unmarked vans, outrage and shock have been weirdly focused on where this is happening, and whose citizens it’s happening to, rather than the simple fact that it’s happening. These reactions reveal a need to create distance between America and the evidence before us, and to pretend that distance is as geographical as it is ethical: “A little graffiti and some toppled statues and we turn into freaking [Al]Fallujah.
Every Fourth of July, Americans are bombarded with advertisements about red and white products — it almost feels patriotic to spend money. Oftentimes, these companies advertise food sales — five dollar watermelon or hot dogs on a stars-and-stripes background — and imply that these items have some inherent patriotic identity. All-American men eat meat, a Costco ad might urge you. Most of us don’t truly believe that we are performing our civic duty when we buy a hot dog; however, there was a time in American history when one’s diet was directly tied to their love and devotion — or lack thereof — to America. To understand American patriotism as it relates to food, we must go back to British Colonialism in the early 1600s.
With all the disheartening news, events that give you horrific flashbacks and the nagging feeling that little progress has been made, it’s very comforting to have a nice, hot meal. This Kenyan chicken curry is the product of Indian diaspora into east Africa. Like the ancestors of Black Americans, tens of thousands of Indians were brought to African colonies by the English as forced labor to build the Kenya-Uganda Railway. Many died and many left after construction, but once the railway was open, so was trade. Indian emigrants took root.
almost 1 million acres of dispossessed American Indian land, sold to form the basis of Cornell’s endowment — a sum of almost $6 million by 1914, equivalent to $150 million today.
The sale of almost 1 million acres of dispossessed American Indian land formed the basis of Cornell’s endowment — a sum of almost $6 million by 1914, equivalent to $150 million today.
Ben Velani ’22 argues for vegetarianism and explains its significance in history.
“Public history brings to the fore questions that underlie all historical engagement,” Vider told The Sun. “How do we know what we know and why does it matter? Those questions underlie all historical work, but they’re not always brought forward.”
Five panelists — one each from the departments of biological engineering, industrial labor relations, neuroscience, history and philosophy — grappled with this question as they attempted to convince the Klarman Hall audience that their respective fields of study mattered most and should be preserved.