Walk Emily Home

Verse: To Next Year's Freshmen

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0400

You’ll see great things done, in the Ithaca sun,

if you sit on the Arts Quad, I’m told.

You’ll see Long Islanders in their polos and top-siders,

as long as the weather’s not cold.

But if it is freezing, then chances are you’ll be seeing

hooded masses sulking to and fro.

They’ll bitch and they’ll moan, they’ll drink coffee while they groan:

“Siberia, I’m sure, gets less snow.”

Observe, if you will, a pre-frosh named Bill,

who’s preparing to move into Dickson.

He’ll do course enroll, around the frats he’ll stroll, but

by September he’ll face a decision:

“What will it be, Bill?” his senior friends will shrill.

“Will you do one major or two?”

“Maybe change schools altogether! You could take up architecture!

Nixon Didn't Read the Whole Thing Either

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0400

In 1970 Richard Nixon’s Shafer Commission formally denounced marijuana’s classification as a Schedule I drug, arguing in response to the United States Controlled Substances Act that A) marijuana is not chemically addictive, B) marijuana is commonly known to be an effective painkiller, particularly in instances of glaucoma and chemotherapy, and C) though the plant does inebriate its user there has never been a reported death from overdosing on cannabis. Rumor has it, Nixon never read the report the Shafer Commission placed on his desk. As the story goes, Nixon saw the cover page, disliked what he read there, and trashed the whole thing.

Say What You Really Mean

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Finally! Taking cues from Obama’s ‘Race Speech,’ more of us ought to call it like we see it.

Last week while many of you were celebrating spring break in lands of sand and sun, I, like many others, found myself hibernating in Olin Library, plugging away at a Senior honors thesis that still refuses to cohere. It wasn’t an entirely useless time, though. I made friends with a monolingual (it wasn’t English) Ithaca High School girl who hiked up the hill to do her AP Chem homework; I played a few hundred games of Go online; I applied to and was rejected from a few jobs; and, I spent much of my time reading up on election news, looking at speeches, and reading press releases.

Show Up or Shut Up

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 00:00:00 -0500

I have a strange confession to make. I love mean old women. I think what draws me to them is the way they carry themselves that says they’ve figured life out, that they’re too aware of the world around them to give a damn what other people think. I’m thinking of vicious, conniving, driven old women who have their aged husbands wrapped around their fingers. I’m thinking of manipulative, cunning, cruel old women who send back bottles of wine and have no qualms telling their grandchild their Valentine’s Day finger-painting is crap. I’m thinking of Mom from Futurama; Karen from Will and Grace; my high school English teacher; John McCain’s 96 year-old mother, Roberta; Hillary Rodham Clinton; Lucille Bluth.

It's Cool to Know Stuff

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 00:00:00 -0500

Good people admit when they don’t know things, and then they do something about it.

It’s December 2007, and I’m sitting in the outdoor patio of a family-style restaurant in San Diego, California with a few of my friends.

Laugh Until It Hurts

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 00:00:00 -0500

A good person doesn’t find much funny about someone else’s pain.

One week ago, George W. Bush gave his final State of the Union Address. I caught the replay, sitting alone in my bedroom, staring at my screen in a sort of solemn fascination as the President delivered a well-rehearsed and admittedly well-spoken speech.

I watched for a few reasons. First, I’m an idealist at heart, and I enjoy the theatricality of this annual tradition (even if I find the speaker’s bullet points abhorrent). Second — and I know it’s an over-discussed topic — I enjoy watching the politicians rise to applaud or sit on their hands; it’s a beautiful piece of Americana that lends itself to a really simple drinking game. Ted Kennedy might have already been playing.

AMERICA! @#&$ YEAH!

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 00:00:00 -0500

Good people replace the toilet paper roll … and that doesn’t mean simply putting a new roll on top of the old one’s cardboard tube, Butters. Good people settle their electric bill before moving to a new place. Good people stop whining about how superficial sorority rush is and freaking do something about it. Seriously. Good people will neither see Meet the Spartans , nor watch Fox’s “The Moment of Truth” because we, as a society, really need to stop encouraging this kind of thing. And lately, as I see us gearing up for 10 more months of election coverage, a good person understands that “nationalism” and “patriotism” don’t have to be bad words.

I’ll explain.

Remember When You Turned the Beat Around?

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 00:00:00 -0500

Good people courtesy flush. Good people pick up the unused newspapers that pile up in front of their Collegetown home. Good people leave their wet umbrellas by the lecture hall’s door — relax, no one’s going to steal it. Good people are willing to admit to themselves that tea tastes better than coffee. Good people know their history. And, this week, having spent Thanksgiving walking through New York City with fantastic friends I didn’t know a year ago, I think good people should all take a moment to think about how far they’ve come from who they once were. I’ll explain.

Don’t Reduce Me

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 00:01:00 -0500

Continuing from two weeks ago, good people stay up to date on pertinent political issues. A good person doesn’t mind throwing in the missing $2 that will settle a disputed restaurant bill. A good person — to a point — isn’t a grammar snob. Good people love Aaron Sorkin. Good people are always willing to meet someone new, and, crucially, good people don’t reduce their friends to single, sweeping adjectives.

What is a “sweeping adjective?” A sweeping adjective is the judgmental broom-work we use to shuffle people into unfair, incomplete categories. It is a poor hypothesis meant to place someone beneath a title we can only guess they would apply to themselves. These titles (Jew, Christian, Muslim, white, black, etc.) are horribly non-specific, usually irrelevant, and often disagreeable to the person being labeled. These titles are bad, frankly, because they are reductionist and encourage stereotyping. I will explain.

The Green Ranger Never Hurt Anyone

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 00:00:00 -0400

Good people volunteer to go first for class presentations because they like setting the standard and they like getting things out of the way. Good people don’t use library computers to check Facebook when there are others waiting. Good people are amused by such things as the geographic disparity between those who say, “Wait on line” and those who say, “Wait in line.” (My parents are from Brooklyn, I grew up in La Jolla and my teachers were all Seth Efrikin — I say strange things.) Good people don’t ruin movies (Keyser Söze!). Good people speak their minds when something important rears its ugly head, and, most importantly, good people remember to cite their sources.

I Wanna Train Whales

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 00:00:00 -0400

Continuing from two weeks ago, decent people send thank-you notes. They have a sense of adventure — they’ll try the weird sushi. Good people drop loose change in charity jars. They put the milk back in the fridge, and they don’t drink from the carton. Good people plan for the future, but are willing to alter their plans. I’ll explain.

Leave. Just Leave.

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 26 Sep 2007 00:00:00 -0400

Continuing from two weeks ago, a gentleman always has an extra pen. He carries some sort of breath-improving substance with him. He remembers small facts about his friends (like where in Long Island they’re from) and he chooses those friends wisely (not because of where in Long Island they’re from).

Favorite Furry Friend: Cats or Dogs?

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Fri, 21 Sep 2007 00:00:00 -0400

So it’s come to this. I’m defending dog shit.

First of all, let me get one thing straight: I’m just not a pet person. I don’t hate pets and I don’t hate your pet — I’m sure he’s lovely — but at this point in my life, I see no need for four-legged, furry companionship, and at this point in my life I know I’m not at all qualified to care for living things. I’ve had houseplants commit suicide on me.

But given the choice between a cat and a dog, I have to pick man’s best friend because, I believe, caring for dogs (specifically, cleaning up after them) brings out our truest natures. Cats, while soothing, are little more than ottomans who vomit.

Seriously, I Just Like Nice Clothes

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 00:00:00 -0400

Continuing from two weeks ago: a gentleman cuts one piece of food at a time. He orders the steak. He turns his phone off when he gets to class. He stands up to let someone past him into a crowded row of seats. He owns at least two pairs of dress shoes — a brown/burgundy and a black — and he doesn’t own a Hawaiian shirt unless he’s certain he’s the kind of person people know owns a Hawaiian shirt.

If you don’t know if that’s you, ask yourself this: Are you Louie Anderson or are you Wesley Clark? Are you hosting a game show, or are you leveling Belgrade?

But I digress from this week’s focus: A gentleman makes an honest effort to look put-together.

Good People Are Round People

Noah Hy Brozinsky — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 21:00:00 -0400

I’ve always loved etiquette books, especially ones that come with lists of arcane tips or guidelines for leading a fuller life. Among my favorite are the following: A gentleman has a crisp, clear handwriting and he holds doors open for his friends. He carries a lighter whether he smokes or not. He reads for fun, and a gentleman makes an honest effort to enjoy those things he doesn’t understand.

It’s August 26th, and on a giant screen I’m watching 15 ruddy-cheeked, chubby 11 year-olds frolic together on a grass field. They lovingly embrace, crying in ecstasy as they roll together on the ground. They wear tight pants and have creepy biblical-but-not-quite-biblical names like Micah and Taylor. They dive all over each other. The rolling goes on for some time.