Bailey M. Trela
Latest Articles
If a Tree Falls: Fighting Climate Change in the Harvard Forest
More than a century old, the Harvard Forest still bears traces of its past—stone fences, ancient oaks. Yet changes have come, too, subtle but significant.
How to Trela Tale: A Nonexistent Problem
With discontent among nonexistent professors affecting our campus climate in absolutely no way, I recently made my way to Professor McClure’s office in order to get to the bottom of this nonissue.
The Monkey House
When I read this it was as though my eyes, carelessly shifting back and forth like fingertips along the stem of an unrecognized bloom, had stumbled upon a thorn.
How to Trela Tale: Dreaming in Middle America
I’d been summoned to the local post of the American Legion by some friends, and once there I’d sat down at the bar—an expanse of knotted, pitted, ringed wood much-lacquered with beer—on an empty stool between one of my hoodie-clad and smoking friends and the man who was now expounding on his dream.
Falling Trees
The large oak that had shaded my neighbor’s home had split in half, its miraculous fall having, somehow, completely avoided the house.
The Passing of the FM Torch
CORDELIA F. MENDEZ ’16 , Chair I’m not going to say Cordelia F. Mendez ’16 could run the world, but I’m confident that she could at least run the country. That’s because Cordelia is easily one of the most competent people you will ever meet. And if you haven’t met her yet, then you should, because she is as smiley and friendly as she is capable.
The Diversity Issue
Fifteen Minutes Magazine explores the state of diversity at Harvard by examining the past and present.
FM Imagines: The Brand New Digital Blues
After searching for classes on the redesigned my.harvard for nearly 30 minutes, I’d only managed to find one potential class, a new Gen Ed that revolved entirely around eating chalk.
Bubsy, Brimful
The leaves of the trees above me rustle, as if whispering in the language of friction, "Are you getting all of this?"
Cigarettes
With a dull ringing in my head, I took my time here, luxuriating in the foreignness of a place wholly untouched by any number of exterior reagents.