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Seeing double

Katie Paysinger

Review staff writer

Siblings provide endless hours of nagging, bickering, screaming and loathing. A brother or sister can also be a life-long companion and best friend. But when you’re a twin, the experience of having a sibling is magnified every step of the way. 

Junior Brenna Krajecki’s twin goes to school in her home state of Colorado. Both are athletic training majors and they share a lot of similarities. Like most twins, being physically close isn’t always a priority.

“We are so close,” Krajecki said. “We don’t really need to be together to still have that strong bond.”

Juniors Alex and Jennifer Maxson never switched places.

“We never got to have any of that fun,” Alex said. “(Jennifer) was too chicken.”

When Jennifer and Alex were deciding which college to attend, they kept it a secret from each other.

“If it was the same, we would deal with it,” Alex said. “If it wasn’t the same, we would deal with it. Obviously, it ended up being the same.”

Deciding living situations was difficult for the two.

“We figured out we can only be roommates if we don’t have to share a room,” Jennifer said.

The sisters were roommates freshman year and plan to live in an apartment with two other friends next year, each with her own room, of course.

When Jennifer went abroad to Austria this fall, it was the first time the twins had been apart. A countdown was created for when Alex would come to visit.

“It really showed us that we could survive on our own,” Jennifer said. “But there was definitely some twin withdrawal.”

Juniors Juan and Victor Campos are identical twins at Linfield who tend to finish each other’s sentences, think alike and share the same interests. Yet, they each have their own idiosyncrasies.

“He has different tastes in women,” Victor said. “And he’s grumpier.”

Juan knows better than to argue.

“I guess that’s right,” he said. “But I’m bigger.”

The difference in height provides a clue to telling this pair apart.

Originally from McMinnville, the Campos brothers wanted to stay local for college. In grade school, the duo caused a lot of trouble together, so they were separated for most of their early education. However, they have had every class together at Linfield.

“It is a lot cheaper because we can just share textbooks,” Victor said.

Juan and Victor hadn’t planned on living on campus when they made the decision to come to Linfield, but a turn of events resulted in them staying in Latourette Hall freshman year.

“We were convinced to move to campus late freshman year,” Juan said. “But we ended up getting a really nice corner room.”

The two have since moved off campus and live with their other roommates, their parents, in town.

Sophomores Josh and Jeremy Lovell will experience being apart for the first time next year when they will live in apartments. The duo tends to think of the same songs at the same time and play the same sports. They have lived together every year at Linfield.

“Living together actually made everything easier,” Josh said. “We didn’t have to buy two of everything.”

Jeremy has no problem with the separation next year when Josh will be living in the Legacy Apartments.

“I will probably be in his room all the time next year,” Jeremy said.

 Jeremy has never had any problems being a twin.

“You just always have a friend,” he said. “I’m never alone.”

However prominent these twins may be on campus with their track and field accomplishments, some people still don’t know each has a twin.

“Most people don’t even realize I’m a twin until I say something,” Jeremy said. “It’s pretty funny when people get us confused.”

Freshman Sierra Stopper is also a twin, but her sister, Salena, goes to Concordia University in Portland.

“It was strange at first to be apart and not be in the same classes,” Stopper said. “But it has gotten easier in some ways. The distance definitely makes me appreciate her more.”

The Stopper sisters have a very unique story about their birth, at least their parents do.

Their parents opted out of having ultrasounds during the pregnancy, preferring the gender to be a surprise. They ended up getting more than they bargained for. After Sierra was born, the doctor informed the new parents that there was another child on the way.

Stopper is a fraternal twin, which means she and her sister don’t look identical. Just like with any siblings, times can be tough.

“It can be challenging to share,” Stopper said. “But it is so much fun at the same time.” 

Whiz kid:Freshman applies her passion for math

Amber McKenna

Features editor

For many college students, mathematics is the subject to avoid at all costs. For freshman Julianne Upton, it is the complete opposite.

“For me, math is just beautiful,” Upton said. “The beauty people find in poems and paintings, I find in math.”

Upton said she has had a passion for the subject for as long as she can remember. In school, she was put in talented and gifted programs. In her latter years of high school, Upton was given the opportunity to take math classes in her hometown of Corvallis at Oregon State University.

At OSU, Upton took courses such as Vector Calculus and Differential Equations, and had no problem keeping up with college students.

These early successes compelled her to take the William Lowell Putnam Competition exam this year.

The Putnam exam is a timed test taken by undergraduate math students throughout the United States and Canada. Each competitor is given six problems to solve in two three-hour periods.

Each question is worth 10 points, and the total possible score is 120. Since 1927, when the competition first started, there have only been three perfect scores. Upton participated in one section and received a score of three overall.

“Any kind of non-zero score on the Putnam is good,” Assistant Professor of Mathematics Julia Fredricks said. “To get a three as a freshman is excellent.”

Her exceptional score helped her get into a competitive, one-month program this summer at Carlton College in Minnesota. Along with free room and board and a stipend, Upton will study high-level mathematics with a small group of other undergraduate women. Some concepts she will study include the knot theory and dynamic systems.

Her favorite kind of math is pure math, which is done primarily for challenge and beauty, as opposed to applied math, which is used in engineering and the sciences.

Upton said she would love to do research, teach math and solve equations for the rest of her life.

“The world is so chaotic, but math has lines and structure,” Upton said.

A fondness of structure also drew her to Germany and the language. Upton has been to the country twice, and considers herself moderately proficient in German.

Upton credits her unique skills to her love of learning. The hardest thing on her plate is trying to choose another major to coincide with mathematics. She knows one day she wants to pursue graduate study.

“I know this is what I am doing in my life,” Upton said. “I love math for math, not just because I am good at it.”

Were The Simpsons based on Linfield Alumni?

Debunking Linfield Myths: a series

Jordan Jacobo

Review staff writer

Matt Groening didn’t have a lot of time to think.

While waiting in the lobby minutes before his 1987 pitch for a series of animated shorts to a Fox Network producer, he made a gut decision for the dysfunctional, yellow, bobble-eyed characters he envisioned: He named them after his family.

Nineteen television seasons and more than 400 episodes later, the Simpsons are a hallmark of pop culture; they are a yelling, whining, choking parody of the middle-class American family.

But before Homer and Marge Simpson, there were Homer and Marge Groening, Matt’s parents.

It’s hard to envision the couple in anything less than their animated setting, crammed on a worn orange couch with Lisa, Bart and Maggie watching TV. Marge’s towering mass of curly blue hair and Homer’s mouthful of sprinkle-covered doughnuts seem as vivid in the mind as on the screen.

“Well, we’re not alter egos,” Margaret Groening, age 89 said. “It’s just the family names.”

The real Homer and Margaret (she prefers it to Marge) met at Linfield as freshmen in 1937. They both majored in English.

“Linfield was like going to heaven,” Margaret said. “The school was very small, only 600 students, and we all got to take the classes we wanted. It was the best possible thing that could have happened.”

In the 1941 volume of the Oak Leaves, the couple’s youth is encapsulated in the archived pages.

Bright-eyed Homer, brown hair combed back, looks nothing like the portly cartoon version. He is wearing a dress shirt and tie, much unlike the white T-shirt and jeans he dons on television. Margaret Wiggum (her maiden name, like Chief Wiggum on the show) is pictured with a sparkling smile, her dark hair in tight ringlets.

Homer was a member of Pi Epsilon Fraternity with his older brother, Victor. His younger sister, Ellene, was a member of Sigma Kappa Phi Sorority.

During her junior year, Margaret was named one of “Linfield’s Loveliest” in the Oak Leaves Most Photogenic Coed contest.

Sixty-seven years later, Margaret looks back on the atmosphere that attracted her to the college.

“We had a spirit of greeting each other,” she said. “The ‘Linfield Hello.’”

Margaret was crowned May Day Queen during her senior year. It was one of her fondest memories, she said.

“But you probably don’t have that today,” Margaret said. “It was kind of old fashioned.” 

After graduating from Linfield, Homer became a decorated World War II pilot, flying missions over Germany, Margaret said.

“He came back safe and sound, which we’re very grateful for,” she said.

Homer and Margaret settled in Portland where they raised Lisa, Matt and Maggie, but no Bart. Matt made the name up, an anagram of brat.

Homer died in 1996.

Nearly two decades after the series premiere of “The Simpsons,” Margaret said she can’t believe the show is such an overwhelming success. Homer and Marge have become household names. “D’oh!” has been adopted into the American lexicon.

Before the quizzical cast of characters residing in Springfield inserted itself into pop culture, it all began with Homer and Margaret Groening, at Linfield.

“We enjoy Matt’s fame very much,” Margaret said. “We’re very proud of him. As for the show, it just took off. Matt took
off with it.”

Professors’ pet peeves

Have you nodded off in class after a long night of homework or texted your friend during a lecture? Didn’t think the professors noticed? They did.

 

Kelly Copeland

Assistant editor

Professor: Ron Mills, professor of art and

                       visual culture

Pet peeve: Students addressing him

                  Informally

 “(I am annoyed by) students I don’t know, who are usually asking for special consideration, who address me as, ‘hey dude’ or ‘yo,’ usually without so much as (capital letters)! I generally decline the request and go to some pains to point out the inappropriateness of addressing anyone other than a peer in that manner, rarely resulting in an apology.”

Professor: Anna Keesey, assistant professor

                 of English

Pet peeve: Students doing other activites

 “If a student does something not pertinent to the class repeatedly, that’s when I notice and become annoyed. We’re all busy and we can’t be perfect. Being late repeatedly, falling asleep repeatedly or eating in class repeatedly—then I feel the student is showing disrespect for (his or her) education, professor and classmates.

The only time I was really floored by the rudeness of a student was when I was teaching a graduate school class and one student, a professional woman in her late 30s, read a paperback novel through the entire first class meeting. There were only 15 students in the class, and I thought, ‘What is she doing? Does she think I can’t see her?’ It seemed incredibly arrogant.

I think I eventually concluded that the student was a few sandwiches short of a picnic in the mental health
department.”

Professor: Sonia Ticas, associate professor of

                      modern languages

Pet peeve: Distracted students

 “Just recently I faced a situation in one of my language classes where a student repeatedly was distracted by some kind of object, and consequently failed to participate in oral work with an assigned partner. First, it was an agenda, then a book for another class visibly open, and finally, the straw that broke the camel’s back, a laptop placed between the student and the partner. The computer was on.

Ironically, we were talking about objects one cannot do without, so I joked with the student about it and asked the student to put it aside. Minutes later, it was sitting on the student’s lap with the e-mail program open. At that time, I asked the student to leave class and come talk to me later that day. In our conversation, I said this would be the last warning.

Next time, I would simply ask the student to drop the class. Obviously, this student is bored or thinks there’s nothing else to learn in this class. The student has done good work but now the participation grade is compromised, and this can mean a grade difference in the end. Note that the student is in this class by choice not by our placement.”

Professor: Rob Gardner, assistant professor

                  of sociolology and anthropology

Pet peeve: Nodding off during class

 “One of my pet peeves is when students fall asleep in class. When I was at the University of Colorado, I had a student arrive to a 9 a.m. class and fell swiftly asleep. It was clear from his disheveled appearance and his somewhat green skin tone that he has had a rather, shall we say, celebratory night.

By the end of class, the student had passed out snoring and was clearly not going to wake up anytime soon. As the next class was shuffling in, I decided to leave him there to ensure that when he did wake up, he would be surrounded by a new group of unfamiliar students in an unfamiliar class.

When he did wake, he found himself completely disoriented by his new surroundings and greeted with laughter and applause by the students and professor. Later that day, the student sheepishly came to my office hours and promised apologetically that he learned his lesson.”

Professor: Gwen Leonard, professor of music

Pet peeve: Students who ask if class was

                  Important

 

 “My biggest peeve comes when a student, after missing a class, says, ‘Can you tell me if I missed anything important in class today?’ Duh. We spend inordinate time choosing and fashioning important information for our class activities, and we get hit with this statement! I usually invite the student to ask a classmate for important information from the class, thus removing my need to respond to such sensibility.”

 

Was football Banned at Linfield?

 

Debunking Linfield Myths: a series

Jordan Jacobo

Review staff writer

For generations of Linfield students, football has been an essential component of the college experience. Saturday afternoons are spent in sun, rain, hail or fog. Musty, tattered couches are dragged out to the student section in the south end zone. Fans, young and old, await the opening kickoff with racing excitement, dressed in traditional Wildcat colors.

Nothing more needs to be said about the streak of 52 consecutive winning seasons; winning is both an expectation and a tradition.

But the myth remains: Was Linfield ever without a football program? Was it banned for being too violent for the Baptist college during its early history?

“At that point, football was a very different sport,” Dean of Students Dave Hansen said. “It was very rough and tumble, and they didn’t have the same level of protective gear. I think even President Theodore Roosevelt had some misgivings about whether it should be a proper sport.”

Little information seems to be circulated about the topic, but archives of the old school yearbooks are able to rehash the truth from decades ago. 

According to the 1922 edition of the Oak Leaves, “After 16 years, football will again be played at Linfield. Sixteen years ago, the roughness of the game and the death of one student here coming as a direct result of football, caused the administration to put a ban on the game until such time as the rules had changed sufficiently to warrant the reinstatement of the sport.”

That year, the board of trustees and McMinnville College President Leonard Riley decided to approve two intercollegiate football games to be played in the fall of 1922.

There is no other mention of the death that had brought the college’s football program to a halt.

“It would be hard to envision Linfield without football today,” Athletic Director Scott Carnahan said. “When you put an athletic team on display, it represents the institution; it’s a valuable part of our recruiting process.”

“In Bricks Without Straw,” an early history of the college written in 1938 by former professor Jonas A. Jonasson, he said football was “the most popular of all college sports.”

Jonasson describes how football was banned at Linfield: “The president of the college did not share this enthusiasm. On the contrary, he felt that the game as played in America tended to develop rowdyism and brutality, besides exposing players to the danger of permanent physical injury.”

On March 27, 1906, the board agreed to prohibit football indefinitely.

For the next 16 years, students frequently pleaded for the reversal of the decision; however, in 1915 Riley went as far as recommending to the Association of Independent Colleges of Oregon that all intercollegiate football programs be abolished.

In the spring of 1921, a group of athletic directors and student representatives petitioned the McMinnville College Board of Trustees for a reversal of the ban, according to Jonasson, asking for a broader athletic program.

In “Linfield’s Hundred Years,” written by former history professor Kenneth L. Holmes, the student activism is shown to have paid off.

Riley announced a special afternoon chapel on Jan. 10, 1922.

“(The students) felt sure what the surprise was going to be,” Holmes wrote. “They were right; football was again to be a college sport.”

But Riley’s second announcement eclipsed the enthusiasm of the 16-year football ban reversal. He told the students of Frances Ross Linfield’s decision to leave the college her properties in Spokane, Wash., estimated to be worth $250,000.

Riley said in honor of her gift, McMinnville College was to be renamed Linfield College.

Thus, Linfield and its football program were born together, re-created on the same afternoon.

The 1923 Oak Leaves reflects on the first season of football after its reinstatement: “The turn-out was large but most of the men had very little experience. But what was lacking in experience was made up with fighting grit, stick-to-it-iveness and the indomitable Linfield spirit.”

  Led by team captain and quarterback “Ed” Kratt, Linfield split two games in the fall of 1922, beating Pacific College, 20-0, while losing to Willamette University, 36-0.

They were humble beginnings for a program destined to become one of the most dominant in the nation.

 So, let the record stand: Football at Linfield was banned from 1906 to 1921, a gap in gridiron greatness, a Linfield myth proved fact by the annals of time. 

 

Lovin’ Linda: After almost two decades of serving smiles and hugs to Linfield students, Linda Burris is embarking on a new journey

Jillian Beaudry

Editor in chief

Linfield Dining Services employee Linda Burris, who has worked at the school since 1989, is leaving at the end of the semester to make a better life for her and her ill husband.

Burris is known best for wearing hats, hair clips and ribbons, dressing up for every holiday, giving tired students and staff members hugs and massages and catching banana thieves. Every year she cries at graduation as she watches her “kids” receive their diplomas.

After her husband suffered a stroke, Burris decided to move to Oklahoma. Because she is part American Indian, the tribe will help pay for nearly all of his medical bills, Sodexho employee Mabel Keochner said. She said Burris hopes to work with children at a local day care center.

Students, faculty and staff members reflect on their memories of Linda Burris:

“I was in Dillin studying for finals during one of the weeks when it was open late. I had laid my head down on the table to give my mind and eyes a break and was caught off guard when I felt someone start giving me a shoulder massage. I was surprised to see it was Linda, but it’s really a good example of her character. She is so friendly and always brightening people’s otherwise mundane Dillin experiences with her simple, heartfelt cheeriness.”

Linfield will be at a loss without her!

-Ryan Jones, alumnus, class of ’07

“Linda may be the most well-known non-student on campus. She is always friendly, anxious to greet you

and has a contagious enthusiasm. She spreads smile.”

-Dave Hansen, dean of students

“As the Linfield Review cartoonist, Linda was the ideal candidate to represent Linfield. While not every student would have a chance to shake Bull or Hellie’s hand, EVERYONE would have been given an offer for a hug upon entering Dillin sometime in their collegiate career.

Linda was, in essence, the face of Linfield.

Not everyone would be aware of jokes regarding specific professors or current administrative moves, but every socially inactive underclassman would indefinitely know about what Linda was wearing on Superbowl Sunday. For these reasons, as an artist attempting to reach the broadest audience, I always relied on humor surrounding the face of Campus Dining.

Linda was the lowest common denominator among students.”

-Timothy Love, alumnus, class of 2007 and past Review cartoonist

“Linda is a fun, loving, wonderful gal. She always makes her day and others’ days good with her smile and loving way she has. She gives hugs out like most people give a wave “hi.” She will really be missed, though live on as the Linfield icon she has become. Best wishes Linda, I’m sure you will find happiness wherever you go!”

-Brenda Botten, cashier

“Linda is a person I will always remember. 

The things that make Linda unique and special are: She dresses up on holidays and special days for the students. Her hopes are to brighten their day, uplift their spirits and give them joy and laughter. She will wear things that are uncomfortable just to give everyone a laugh. Last Christmas, she wore a Santa hat that was very heavy. The top flipped back and forth and bobbed around while playing a song. I’m sure it was uncomfortable, but she sacrificed her comfort to bring others joy.

She also has a pair of earrings for every holiday. She is always there to listen to the students. She likes to ‘mother’ them—making it more of a home away from home. You can count on her to put an arm around you and give you a back rub or a hug. 

She has a cute smile and her beautiful blue eyes twinkle. Her laugh is infectious. Sometimes she also gives that little ‘snort,’ and that gets us laughing even harder.

She is going to be greatly missed by the students and by all of us. Godspeed Linda as you begin this new chapter in the book of your life.  We will never forget you.”

-Elizabeth Dent, Linfield Dining Services

“Linda always puts a smile on people’s faces with all of the hats that she wears. It’s sad she is going to leave. It’s kind of hard to replace Linda.”

-Will Hermens, sophomore

Are there dead bodies on campus? Debunking Linfield myths: a series

-photo by Jordon Jacobo/Review staff writer/photographer

Daniel Clausen

For the Review

While the rumors of ghosts in Northup and Pioneer halls and the Michelbook House deal with restless spirits, at least two bodies rest in peace on campus.

At the northeast corner of Melrose Hall below the president’s office, a handsome but modest granite marker notes the final resting place of Dr. Leonard W. Riley and his wife Julia Pearce Riley. Dr. Riley was president of Linfield from 1906-1931.

While some may find it strange that his remains are buried here, it is really quite fitting. Dr. Riley was responsible for rescuing the college from the brink of closure by taking the presidency in 1906, and made the well-being of Linfield his life’s work. In 1906, the college was in debt and in search of a president.

“Before I see the college close, I will take the job myself,” Dr. Riley said to a fellow member of the presidential search committee. Riley was promptly elected, according to “Linfield’s Hundred Years” by William Frerichs.

Riley’s policies allowed Linfield to survive the first world war and the Depression, emerging as a respected institution.

After retirement in 1931, Dr. Riley moved to Claremont, Calif., where he passed away Jan. 23, 1945. His ashes were sent back to Linfield where they now rest near the foundation of Melrose. Stepping stones, half obscured by rhododendrons, lead to the marker at the cornerstone.

“Through his vision and tenacious faith he rescued the college from near death and gave it sound foundations,” the epitaph, written by Professor Kenneth Scott Latourette, says.

As far as is recorded, these are the only graves on campus.

“I have walked virtually every inch of campus, and I have never noticed another marker,” Professor of Philosophy Marvin Henberg, author of “Inspired Pragmatism: An Illustrated History of Linfield College” and Linfield’s history and trivia expert, said.

Most students are completely oblivious to the gravestone.

“I had no idea that someone was buried in Melrose,” senior Michael Arbogast said.

Even the ever-knowledgeable Dave Hansen, Dean of Students, was long unaware of the marker.

There are no other graves on campus, but there is one memorial. The triangular garden in front of Campbell Hall remembers Steven J. Thomas, alumnus of the class of 1948.  He served the college as a landscaper and groundskeeper for many years, and he played an important role in beautifying campus. He won several awards for new varieties of rhododendrons he cultivated, one of which is now in full bloom in his memorial garden.

He died after falling while trimming a maple tree on campus in 1977.

There are countless dedications on campus in the names of buildings and streets, and plaques at the bases of trees or on benches. However, only Mr. and Mrs. Riley have the honor of being buried on the campus they devoted their lives to save.

Out of Box:When food becomes your enemy: How students work around dietary restrictions in creative and surprising ways.

 - Photo by Rachael Palinkas/Photo editor

Nicki Tyska

Copy editor


Bradley Schorer, junior

Some dietary restrictions are voluntary. Morals and tastes all affect the way people eat. This is mostly true for junior Bradley Schorer.

Schorer has been a vegetarian since his senior year of high school when he realized he did not like the way slaughterhouses and some ranchers treated animals while raising and butchering them. He does admit to eating meat on occasion, but only under certain circumstances.

“I’m OK with meat if I know how the animal was killed and how it was raised,” Schorer said. “A lot of the mistreatment occurs in the slaughterhouse. Just because it was raised humanely doesn’t mean it was necessarily slaughtered (humanely). I don’t trust it.”

Schorer began cutting out meat from his diet and focused on eating vegetables, fruit, different types of grains, such as buckwheat, hard-boiled eggs, bread and other vegetarian-friendly meals. Sadly, some of his favorite foods have become off-limits.

Last semester, Schorer said he started to believe he had an allergy to wheat and gluten. The suspicion came when he heard eczema, a skin condition he has suffered from all his life, is a symptom of a wheat allergy. He said he decided to test the theory when he learned a friend, who used to have eczema, had cut wheat from his diet. He is now eczema free.

After about four to six weeks, Schorer said his eczema began to disappear. However, he said he did not keep up with his new no-wheat diet after the semester ended.

“I went (abroad) this Jan Term, and I gave it up because I’m a vegetarian; so it’s ridiculously hard with the way I eat to eat out, so I decided to eat bread,” he said. 

While he did not have any problems during his trip, Schorer said his eczema began to return once he was back in the U.S. He decided to go back to the diet he followed before leaving for January—namely, no longer eating wheat.

Unlike many of those who use rice products in replacement of wheat, Schorer chooses to stick with his diet centered on grains and vegetables. He said the rice-based foods do not provide him with protein, so he sees no point in buying them.

 

 

Nellie Reuland, senior

Like most students who live in a residence hall, Reuland caught the stomach flu passed around February of 2005. Except, hers didn’t go away like everyone else’s. It persisted throughout the summer. 

After visiting multiple doctors and even a naturopathic doctor as a last resort, then freshman, now senior, Reuland finally learned the reason why she had been suffering from stomachaches, nausea, headaches and a general malaise for months was not from any flu, but because of intolerances to wheat, dairy, soy and egg products. Her reaction was not one many would expect.

“Obviously, I was relieved to know what it was because it was the beginning of August, and I had been fighting with symptoms since February, so (for) six months I’d been feeling sub par, to say the least,” she said.

That relief did not last long once she returned to school and realized how difficult it would be to eat according to her new diet. She could no longer stomach many staples enjoyed by her fellow college students, such as pasta, bread and other products made with wheat flour and dairy.

After that drastic life and dietary change, Reuland said she has grown used to her situation and is comfortable with what she can and can’t eat.

“It’s a lot easier than it used to be,” she said. “When you compare my (diet) to the average college student, yes it’s a lot harder because I can’t cook up a box of macaroni and cheese and Top Ramen anytime I want.”

Reuland confessed that because her diet eliminates many foods, people believe there is almost nothing she can eat. However, once she gives them a few suggestions, they realize her diet is not as difficult as it seems.

What can she eat? Fruits, vegetables and foods made from whole grains besides wheat; meat, as long as it’s not cooked in anything; and a surprising amount of rice- and corn-based products, including rice milk. Going out to dinner is not as accommodating.

“There are certain restaurants I cannot go to because the only thing I can eat is lettuce; not even salad—salad would come with some cream, buttermilk ranch dressing,” she said.

There are dining establishments that are safe for Reuland, though. Asian foods are fine, as well as Mexican. Both Thai Country and Tequila Grill have been deemed “Nellie safe” by Reuland and her roommates.

 

Alex Maxson, junior

Not many people can say no to a sweet, and juicy orange, or any other fruit for that matter. But junior Alex Maxson can; in fact, she has to.

Maxson is allergic to all fruits. She is not allowed to eat anything—no strawberries, peaches or even grapes. If she does happen to partake of any forbidden fruits, her mouth begins to itch; her throat will swell; and her lips might get a little plumper.

The worst fruit for Maxson to eat is oranges. If she accidentally eats anything with real orange juice in it, she will break out in hives and eventually pass out.

Unfortunately, fruits maintain their stereotypical temptation power they’ve had since Adam and Eve.

“I eat fruit every now and again just because I know it tastes good,” Maxson said. “My sister usually stops me because I always try and do it more than I should, so she’ll take the fruit away from me. The time that was really bad was (Zeta Tau Alpha Sorority) was doing a yogurt-eating contest, and I participated.”

Why was this contest so terrible? The yogurt contestants ate was all fruit. Maxson was prepared though. She had a friend in the audience with a bag of ice ready for her after the competition to numb the itching.

Although she tries hard not to ingest any fruit, including buying juice without natural fruit juices, Maxson does have one ultimate weakness.

“I usually break the rules whenever there’s a Jamba Juice around,” she said.

 

Kenton Barker, sophomore

After being taken to the hospital one morning during his senior year of high school because of the severity of his sickness, sophomore Kenton Barker found out he had celiac disease.

Celiac is a digestive disease where a person cannot tolerate gluten, which is commonly found is wheat-based products. If Barker eats any foods containing gluten, his stomach will begin to cramp; he’ll have difficulty breathing; and he might break out in hives.

Celiac disease is often hard to identify, Barker said. When he first arrived at the hospital, doctors could not figure out what was wrong with him. After two days of testing, he was officially diagnosed.

Right before coming to Linfield, Barker visited with a nutritionist, who also has celiac disease, to get a better idea of what he could and could not eat. He only knew he had to avoid wheat products.

“It was incredibly overwhelming,” Barker said. “(The nutritionist) gave me this Web site to go to that had all the gluten and wheat things I couldn’t have; I remember printing it off and it just kept going and going and going.”

His freshman year was the hardest, he said. At the beginning of the year, he spoke to Jason Briles, catering and retail manager of dining services, who gave him options of what the cooking staff could do for him. Barker’s main option was to store food in a large freezer in the back of Dillin Hall. He said he spent four months eating cold peanut butter and jelly sandwiches made with gluten-free bread for dinner.

 

Once he joined Kappa Sigma Fraternity and moved into the fraternity’s house, meals became easier. Barker. He had had more time to learn about his food restrictions and now he had a kitchen to cook in.

“It was definitely hard at the beginning, but I’ve grown into a pattern,” Barker said. “When I first got diagnosed, I didn’t even know what in the world gluten was. It was really daunting. I am an expert now at reading labels.”

Kappa Sigma also helped Barker with finding gluten-free foods, as it was a fraternity brother who first told him about a gluten-free grocery store he saw in McMinnville. He said his fraternity brothers will often tease him about all the things he can’t eat, but on the whole they have been supportive and are willing to learn about his disease and help him find acceptable foods.

Barker said his daily diet consists mostly of fruits, vegetables, yogurt, meat, rice-flour products and eggs. He said he had to learn where he could buy the substitutes for what he was missing out on. Because of his dietary restrictions, Barker also has to eat about four or five times a day.

Another challenge is cross-contamination. When a gluten product is cooked on a grill or in a toaster, Barker cannot have his foods touching those surfaces because they will absorb the leftover gluten proteins. This makes eating at restaurants difficult, but he said he favors Outback Steakhouse because it provides a gluten-free menu.

Even though he misses everything he could eat in high school, Barker remains positive about his condition and believes he will eventually eat gluten products again, even if it isn’t during his lifetime.

“I have a feeling that whenever I do go to Heaven—which is hopefully not going to be soon—there’s going to be this huge buffet line of gluten and I can just eat and not even worry about it,” he said.

 

Is there a bomb shelter under the graduation green?

-Photo by Robert Feresse/For the Review

Jordan Jacobo

Review staff writer/photographer

Between Melrose Hall and the president’s house, just east of the Oak Grove, lies an unmistakably well-kept patch of grass known as the graduation green.

It is the place where Linfield students begin and end their undergraduate careers. Grouped together in a set of white folding chairs, the freshman class sits together for the first time to hear some opening remarks about attending Linfield. Just four short years later, they sing the alma mater in the same location to conclude commencement.

Does a stark reminder of generations past lie beneath this iconic lawn? The myth of a secret bomb shelter or escape tunnel forgotten after the Cold War is whispered around campus. The scarcity of information on the topic leaves the mind to wander.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Mardi Mileham, director of college public relations, said. “I have never heard anything like that.”

Dean of Students Dave Hansen, who has worked at Linfield for nearly three decades, said he knew nothing of the myth either.

Information on the inner workings of the campus blueprint have turned to relic, handed down by members of the college’s Facilities Services staff.

Tim Stewart, assistant manager of custodial services, is one of the gatekeepers. In his 21 years at the school, he has learned about some of Linfield’s muddied underground history.

“Now that I think of it, there used to be a tunnel by Murdock (Hall), but it’s not like it really went anywhere,” he said.

The tunnel, which was used f or storage, was closed off when construction began for Murdock in the early 1980s.

“Under Riley (Hall), there is a hallway-like tunnel that goes from the length of Pioneer (Hall) to Melrose,” Stewart said. “It’s pretty intense if you’re not used to being down there. It’s like ‘Alice in Wonderland’ once the tunnel starts to narrow at the end.”

He said the Riley tunnel holds the steam line, phone line and other school utilities.

There is no practical emergency shelter today, Stewart said, although what is now Jonasson Hall used to be a designated safe zone.

Along with Jonasson, the McMinnville post office and the basement of McMenamins Hotel Oregon were considered prime locations for community fallout shelter during the height of Cold War fears.

Mike Dressel, director of campus safety, said there are no shelters or tunnels other than the ones used by Facilities Services.

At Linfield, three of the administrative buildings have service basement areas kept behind locked doors and under restricted access, Dressel said.

Dressel and Stewart said there is no underground development under the graduation green and all of the school’s tunnels are short, narrow dead ends.

“It’s mostly just pipes, gadgetry and a little bit of water on the floor,” Dressel said.

During the summer of 2000, construction of a new steam line to Keck Campus created large trenches dug across multiple places on campus. The holes were filled with slurry, a mix of water and cement, and for all the excavation of the lawn, no secret tunnels were found.

According to the Linfield Emergency Management Plan, “in the case of pre-event evacuation, the campus location for such temporary emergency shelter would be the (Rutschman Fieldhouse) by virtue of its structural integrity and availability of emergency auxiliary power.”

Dressel said the emergency plan is under review but did not give specifics about changes or time schedules.

Meanwhile, the graduation green remains nothing more than a lawn, it seems. No bomb shelter. No elaborate system of escape tunnels. No fact here, only myth.

Why are students not allowed in the Pioneer Hall bell tower?

Debunking Linfield myths: a series

Daniel Clausen

For the Review

The Pioneer Hall bell tower is one of Linfield’s most recognizable icons. Rising high above the Oak Grove, it is the backdrop for graduation and an enduring symbol of the school’s heritage. But, our beloved belfry also has its share of bats.

Any landmark as old as Pioneer is bound to accrue some folklore. Dedicated in 1883, for many years the building housed the entirety of the college.

The history book written for the centennial anniversary celebration, “Linfield’s Hundred Years,” details the former importance of the structure. Students, and even some professors, lived, studied, worked and performed in the impressive four-story building.

Even though electricity was installed in the building in 1907, it was still considered rustic. Students had the option to include the cost of firewood in tuition or opt to chop their own. Obviously, the hall was aptly named.

Even in the straight-laced Baptist days, pranks were not unheard of. One hazy legend has it that several students out for a lark stole a live cow and herded it up the stairs of Pioneer. Arriving in the narrow stairway that leads to the attic and cupola, the tired cow stood her ground. Sadly, she did not have enough room to turn around. As cows are supposedly unable to back down stairs, the poor heifer had to be killed to be removed.

Perhaps this untimely death accounts for the strange aura which surrounds the cupola. Student residents have long complained of footsteps and creaky floorboards in the attic, although the door is securely locked, and students are not allowed into the attic for safety reasons.

Rick Carruth has worked for Facilities Services since the ‘80s and remembers helping investigate such a complaint.

He, along with one other employee and Bob Wells, supervisor of Facilities Services at the time, entered the cupola in search of the source of the noise. Although it was summer, the bell tower was unseasonably chilly.

“I’m not a ghost hunter or anything, but I definitely felt a sort of a presence,” Carruth said. “It wasn’t always cold up there, sometimes it was very hot, but sometimes there was a real cold presence.”

He had never heard of the cow story, and he did not connect his experience to a cow in any way.

“We did remove a bird from up there once, and there were a bunch of dead crows and sparrows until recently,” he said.

A few students have seen the inside of the cupola. Senior Koleka Sequeira worked for Facilities Services last summer and got to go up.

“There are lots of names written and carved into the wood and lots of dead birds,” she said. “I didn’t see any ghosts, but it did seem dangerous, which is probably why students aren’t usually allowed up there.”

She added her own name to the roster on the walls, though likely at considerably less danger than some of the vandals.

Several alumni on staff, who preferred not to be identified, said students used to sneak up to leave their mark on the oldest building of the college. Methods and specific stories were not included.

Though most of these stories are all but impossible to tie to documented events or facts, they are also hard to discount. Professor of Philosophy Marv Henberg, who recently wrote “Inspired Pragmatism: A history of Linfield,” said he has encountered a version of the cow story at most campuses he has worked at in his career.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” he said. He guessed that it could have been a popular stunt at one time.

These legends, passed down through the years, are, in the end, welcome additions to the bell tower, and help make it as distinctive as much as its cupola and bihourly carillon.