Sights and sounds from this week’s festivities.
Pressure, panic, Pink Lady
Founders Day: a celebration of decorative hay bales, Yale’s Instagram clout, tours of the enigma that is West Campus (maybe it’s just Mamoun’s??), and an overweight bulldog who is undoubtedly oblivious to his own celebrity.
Upon approaching the Cross Campus buffet, I was immediately drawn to the baskets brimming with over five kinds of apples—sweet, crisp, bursting with insoluble pectins. Who wouldn’t be? But it was here that I encountered a problem. To choose between Gala, Honeycrisp, Empire, and still more varieties was a near impossible task. I’m just one girl. What’s more, my backpack was already stuffed with my sensible fall sweater, so pseudo- surreptitiously shoveling produce into it for later was out of the picture. The New England apple season is fast closing. Do I come back with a tote bag? Do I take one bite of each variety, flinging apples to the grass under the pretense of an #InspiringYale art installation? Do I just damn it all and try a peach?? Like a fool, I panicked, picked up a Pink Lady, and walked on.
by Lea Rice YH Staff
Founders Day was insanely festive this year. Way better than last year (so I hear), when they brought in that dragon that breathed fire all over WLH!
The dignity of the celebration, and the implicit nostalgia for an era of Yale when only white Protestant males were allowed here, was heightened by the presence of giant, blue, inflatable noodle men. Yale may not display many portraits of women, but they’ll be damned if they won’t present those jolly, flapping fellas with pride!
Everywhere you turned—cookies! There were little burgers—meat cookies! They had apple cookies! (jk they were just apples). And macarons! So many macarons!
Instagram nearly crashed amidst the deluge of photos from the #InspiringYale photo contest. Not because there were so many posts, but because each post was just so inspirational. I think I saw the ghost of Yale benefactor and colonial businessman Jeremiah Richard Dummer in the corner of my selfie. But then I realized it was just a grease smudge—meat cookies!
I have never seen Yale so energized and unified. I’ve only been here for like a month, but still. I transcended my body and was my best self, for the first and only time in my life, at Founders Day. Can’t wait ’til the next invented holiday graces Cross Campus with its convivial bliss!
by Lora Kelley
Founders Day has sold out
Remember when Founders Day used to mean something? I do. It was a time before pumpkins had hashtags on them and before throngs of Yalies fought to get the best Instagram with the cardboard cutout of Peter Salovey. Newsflash: Peter Salovey was NOT a founder!!! Founders Day is NOT his day!!!!! Nowadays, the only thing on our minds when we congregate on Cross Campus for Founders Day is that sweet, sweet kale salad we all love so much. I’m not saying that those tiny cups of kale salad aren’t delicious— Elihu knows they are—but that’s not what Founders Day is about! We need to put the Founders back in Founders Day. Nowadays, I’m not even sure if I can remember who the founders are. Handsome Dan? Maybe, but I have a hard time imagining that he had the stamina to carry all the necessary bricks, what with his genetically bred breathing problems. John C. Calhoun? In all likelihood, yes. I say we need more education on the founders, fewer Instagrams, and the same amount of that life-affirming kale salad.
by Charlie Bardey YH Staff