Ginny C. Fahs
Interweaving patterns of apartness and closeness have united our class and solidified our understanding of each other and ourselves.
They don’t have postcards in Bangladesh, or at least in Chittagong where Devon lives. So Devon made her own postcard to send to me. She smoothed newspapers written in Bengali script into the folds of a patterned pink paper, backed it on cardstock, and penned a message on the inside that bled through the pulp.
Once somebody sent me a chain email that talked about the differences between football season in the North and in the South. It said that in the North women pack for a game by slipping a chapstick in their back pocket and a $20 bill in their front pocket. Down South, women attending the game need to sport a Louis Vuitton duffle with two lipsticks, powder, mascara (waterproof), concealer, and a fifth of bourbon. Wallet not necessary in the South, the article said—that’s what dates are for.
It cost $450 to rent the two person suite on Westmorely Hall’s first floor in 1900—three times Harvard’s $150 tuition cost. Franklin D. Roosevelt and his roommate Lathrop Brown, both in the Class of 1904, split the cost of their room right down the middle, paying $225.50 before utilities and maintenance for each year they roomed together.
Years before encountering the magazines, Taintor studied Visual and Environmental Studies at Harvard. When she was a senior, all of her VES friends applied to graduate art programs, but Taintor could not imagine going to more school—she figured she would try being an artist straight away instead.