Why Doesn't Tufts Offer Business Majors?
If you fancy yourself a future Fortune 500 CEO of a designer shoe label or aspire to be the next Don Draper and “buy the world a Coke”, you may…
For as long as I can remember, my summers in Greece consisted of a series of captured snapshots: the intense heat emanating from the sun as I sat against my towel on the scorching sand, the sweetness of a slice of watermelon after having my yiayia’s (grandma’s) home cooked meals, and the feeling of ice on my skin as I dove into the turquoise sea of nothing and everything. Most of all, I remember feeling the wind. Supposedly, the wind knows no boundaries or cultures- it takes a universal course around the earth (at least that is what my Earth Science teacher taught us). Yet, the wind in Greece felt different than it did in my hometown of Sudbury, Massachusetts. Regardless of the temperature, what I experienced, when being blown by the wind, was nothing short of catharsis. One sweep, like a whisper, made the trees sway ever so slightly and brought peace and lightness to creatures of all sizes. For me, summers in Greece were 2 months spent floating lightly on sea and on land as the wind blew.
This summer, the whispers darkened, the weather turned sour, and the wind, to my utter dismay, felt heavier. All these changes in the environment pointed to the underpinnings of a greater catastrophe, one that had been looming in the background. To put it simply, Greece has been and continues to be in a political and economic crisis. Like all crises, the effects on the people and culture are self evident. Now, swimming in the ocean all I hear is words of “Tsipra” and “Euro” from parents talking to their kids, from grandmas and grandpas, and even from kids my age. Now, when I sit to eat my watermelon after returning from the beach and having lunch, I no longer notice the sweetness in its taste and temperature. Instead, images of empty supermarkets fill my head. My parents, normally cool and collected individuals, have stocked up on every food imaginable, from canned beans to spaghetti to Nutella. Now, as I sit on my porch and see the rough waters crashing on the beach, I can’t help but feel a sense of anxiety that not even the wind can cure.
Luckily, in less than two months, I will have returned to Boston, technically leaving the anxiety behind with me. Some of my friends bitterly joke that my parents knew what they were doing when they decided to live in America. The truth is that their decision to remain in America was a result of life’s mercurialness. It was random, a roll of dice, that my parents, out of all the Greek couples, who went to America to further their studies were the ones who moved permanently away from their home. Living in America does not make me any less proud to be a Greek, which is why, relief will not come with my distancing myself from the problems. From afar, I will be mourning, praying, hoping, and supporting alongside my country and its people. After all, the wind is universal and transient and its hard to tell just where the problems will sweep next. All I do now is yearn for the wind to lighten by the time that I come back next year.
If you fancy yourself a future Fortune 500 CEO of a designer shoe label or aspire to be the next Don Draper and “buy the world a Coke”, you may…