Looking back on my almost four years with the Ram, it’s mostly a blur of proofreading symbols and faces, so many faces. Symbols that I committed to memory after my first 9-11 p.m. copy shift as a scared (but very chatty) freshman, and faces that, over the years, I have also committed to memory. But, I am terrible with names. 

The Fordham Ram is notoriously a hard place to break into, especially as a freshman. But it’s an easy place to feel at home. The atmosphere in B-52 is so welcoming and warm (even if it is just a basement back room with no windows). Everyone smiles at you when you walk in. Even if they don’t remember your name, people ask how that exam went that you left early to study for last week. 

Amid all that warmth and among all those smiling faces, I used to feel discouraged when I would introduce myself to the same people week after week. But two people never asked for my name twice: copy chiefs Taylor and Liz. Their acceptance and encouragement are what kept me coming back and introducing myself to the rest of the staff, week after week. 

During my sophomore year, I was an executive copy editor. I kept the same shift and met the two of the most incredible people I have had the pleasure of knowing: Colette Nolan and Lindsay Grippo, the copy chiefs for Volume 100. Their support and friendship inspired me to apply for a position at the Ram the following year. As I regard that as the best decision I have made in my Fordham career (above dropping out of the pre-law track), I’d say that’s high praise.

It wasn’t until I was copy chief for Volume 101 that I realized why the 20 or so people whom I saw once a week didn’t know my name after a month my freshman year. It’s because everyone is bad with names. Every person on the Ram is responsible for knowing so much about their section that, on top of a full course load and internships, it’s impossible to learn the name of every copy editor right off the bat. But boy, do we try, and we never forget a face. 

Since the Ram is a club with so many contributing writers, copy editors and staff, the only way to really be known is to be in it. There is something about working collectively with such a diverse group of people to make something real, something physical, something you can hold up on Wednesday afternoon and say, “I helped make this,” that brings people together in a way I have never experienced before. 

And with that, I want to do right by the Ram and thank some people that made my day time at Fordham a little brighter. 

Thank you to the Volume 100 copy chiefs Colette, for turning me onto cream soda dum-dums and the “Ratatouille” soundtrack and Lindsay, for always having the best advice. 

Thank you, Maggie, my co-chief, for always pushing me to be better, edit better and listen better. 

Thank you Briana for always walking to Best with me after production night and always asking the hard questions. Like, is it incest if you have sex with a clone of yourself? 

Thank you, Aislinn and Hannah, for listening to every rant about the Oxford comma and whether “proudest” should be a word and for teaching me what it means to be a leader. 

Thank you to the sports boys: Jimmy for being the sweet, sweet boy you are, and Dylan for always having a better version of the song that’s playing. 

Thank you, Sarah, for teaching me that eating crunchy snacks at 2 a.m. after the Ram isn’t inconsiderate; it’s a necessity. 

Thank you to the current copy chiefs, Erica and Emma, for helping me keep the copy table alive over Zoom and still being stellar editors in the process: Your combs have the finest of teeth. 

Thank you to our fearless leaders, Helen and Andrew, for upholding the Ram’s legacy during these crazy times. 

Thank you, Kelly Christ, my roommate and best friend, for reminding me that being on the Ram isn’t a personality trait, even though we both are now. You truly are better than most. 

And lastly, thank you to all the copy editors, whether you pop in once in a blue moon or every week without fail; thank you for asking questions, thank you for helping create this little publication that I call home.