[Courtesy of the Fordham Ram]

A few production nights ago, the philosophical question we considered was, “Is happiness a choice?”

Philosophy Hour, for those who don’t know, is the point during production night when most of us on the Ram have wrapped up our work and we all start swiveling our chairs around to face the copy table and pick at the stale Starbursts at the bottom of the Vol. 104 candy bucket. We might have played MadLibs or skribbl.io earlier in the night, but this is different from our regular shenanigans — this is the time for Michael to ask his question and the rest of us to wax poetic. It’s my favorite part of the night and it’s what helped turn us from strangers into friends back in the spring of 2022.

This question is one that’s been on my mind since the start of this new school year and in the shadow of the last one, which had some extreme peaks and valleys for me. Hannah argued that happiness depends on your brain chemicals. Jamison and Kari said it is just a matter of your attitude. Isabel poked her head above her computer and gave us an amused look before returning to her Editor in Chief duties. Michael leaned back in his chair and considered the question without really answering it. Like most Philosophy Hour conversations, this one did not reach a conclusive answer.

I’ve written before about feeling lost at college, and I don’t know if we can choose to be happy, but I do know that when I was a sad and lonely sophomore, I took a leap of faith and applied to be the Opinion Editor of the Ram. It was the best decision I ever made. Emma, my former co-editor, was right: the Ram did become my whole life, and I couldn’t be more grateful. This newspaper has given me so much: A coworker, a roommate, a baking buddy, a writing partner with whom I’ll eventually share a few Emmys, volleyball teammates who make up for what we lack in hand-eye coordination with unbridled enthusiasm. In other words, my very best friends.

Every Tuesday I can count on a slice from Pugsley’s, roughly four pages to format on InDesign and about two dozen captions to brainstorm. More often than not, there’s a Michael-Hanif debate that devolves into their inside jokes that none of us know but laugh at anyway. At least once a night we spend 15 minutes finagling with the syntax of a single sentence and spitball a lot of alliterative headlines — my favorite activities.

Some bemoan the windowless nature of our basement office, and one would think that spending 12 hours a week in a fluorescent-lit, cluttered and crowded space would compound one’s feelings of pressure and anxiety. But I’ve always felt like B-52 was a pocket of air, especially during the times when it was hard for me to breathe.

Jamison, Sophia, Hannah and Nora, your energetic spirits are contagious, and they light up the room as well as my day. Thanks for leaving the cutest little bubbles on my pages. Kari, I’m so glad you escaped the sports room and dislike “Jane Eyre” as much as I do. Isabel, thank you for being our fearless leader as well as an exceptional friend. 

Michael, I’m sorry that so many of my articles were late. But one day we’ll have a nice chuckle, or maybe a chortle, about it, right? No? Okay. Luckily for me, your capacity for kindness and friendship (hopefully) outweighs the frustration I might have caused you. You’re a great editor, but an even better friend.

Not a lot of people read the Ram. Much of the work that we do goes unnoticed and the papers are left to warp on the newsstands. But the work is so fulfilling and fun regardless of readership. I love being an editor, and I’m so lucky to be a part of such an amazing team and work with the two best assistant editors, Evan and Allison. I’m so excited to see what you guys do with the section.

Though we still have several more issues to go before we wrap up Volume 105, I hope we all linger near the door a little longer these remaining production nights. I know this isn’t the last article I’ll write, but it still hurts to say a formal goodbye and know that this is my shot to wrap up all the big feelings I have about this club that is so much more than just a club. The other night, long after we both should have been asleep, Sophia shared with me one of her favorite poems and it resonated deeply with me. It was “The Lost Hotels of Paris” by Jack Gilbert and, among other things, it’s about saying goodbye and being grateful for “the having not the keeping.” B-52 will just be the place “that used to be when we used to be,” and though we will soon become editors emeriti, I have a feeling we’ll be friends long after we close that basement door on our last production night. 

I’ve started to write this article a hundred times — in pieces and fragments and starts and stops. I think Gilbert was right when he said that writing isn’t perfect, but it’s the only thing we have that can capture the biggest feelings inside of us. Hopefully this From the Desk gets it right enough.

While the jury is still out on whether or not we can choose to be happy, regardless, I choose The Fordham Ram.