The Fordham Ram

To All The Tuesday Nights

Courtesy+of+Julia+Comerford%2FThe+Fordham+Ram
Courtesy of Julia Comerford/The Fordham Ram

Courtesy of Julia Comerford/The Fordham Ram

Courtesy of Julia Comerford/The Fordham Ram


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By Bailey Hosfelt

For the past four years, Tuesday nights have been synonymous with The Fordham Ram. And the rain. Almost always rain.

It’s raining as I write this, which feels fitting as I look back on all the times I’ve traipsed my soggy body across campus in the middle of a complete downpour on my way to the basement of McGinley.

There are few rooms you can walk into and immediately feel like you’re at home, especially in college. But through The Fordham Ram, I have found that place.

B-52 washes a deep-rooted sense of familiarity and belonging over me week after week. Regardless of how unsteady everything else may seem—in this country, in my personal life or anywhere in between—B-52 never falters.

I think about myself walking through the door freshman year, nervously fumbling my way through the interview for my very first editor position. I try not to think about myself walking out as a senior when Volume 100 comes to its inevitable close. But here I am, forcing myself to think about it—confronting how quickly it’s creeping up, how tightly I want to hold on.

It’s difficult to find the exact words to describe the publication and it’s people who have had such a profound, sustained impact on my life these past four years. I’ve grown up, gone to bat and taken the blow with this group.

Perhaps the sentiment is even trickier to construct because, for so many people, The Fordham Ram is an enigmatic enterprise. Fellow students read our content without truly understanding the laborious process that accompanies each article. The back and forth and the copy edits; the hard decisions and the backlash.

The university’s official journal of record can’t be that hard to produce, can it? This misconception remains a source of immense personal pride, as well as endless frustration.

For every exacerbated time I’ve had to remind my friends that no, I cannot go out on Tuesday nights, I’m reminded that neither can my fellow editors. We have all chosen to devote ourselves to serving the Fordham community as student journalists—something that is bigger than all karaoke nights at Beer Hall combined. Plus, our sing-alongs are in a league of their own.

I would be lying if I said there were not times where production nights felt like pushing a boulder up a hill. In fact, there were plenty of them.

But there is beauty in the struggle. I have been incredibly grateful to have such an intelligent, level-headed group of people right there alongside me, struggling into the wee hours of Wednesday mornings with no complaints.

What we put ourselves through might seem crazy to outsiders, but we keep coming back for more. The collaborative energy permeating from B-52 into the print shop is infectious.

I often find myself ready to head home for the night, only to find myself staying for 10 more minutes, which turns into another hour. This hesitation to leave means something.

When I look back on my collegiate career, The Fordham Ram will always be at the forefront. After all, I owe a lot to this newspaper.

Three-quarters through my freshman year, the support system I had found at Fordham completely crumbled. It was devastating. I thought about leaving the university altogether, transferring somewhere else. But I had a co-editor counting on me and a community of like-minded individuals beginning to form.

How could I walk away before I even gave it the chance to get better?

Slowly but surely, I regained a sense of collegiate purpose I thought I had lost the previous winter. I not only wanted to speak up, but also wanted to further extend my voice. I wanted to understand the ins and outs of our university, not just for myself, but to share with others as well.

There was no longer a need to harbor resentment about my university experience. I had The Fordham Ram.

Acquaintances turned in friends, and small talk turned into callbacks. Just checking in turned into, “let’s catch up.”

In the past four years, I have worn various hats, sometimes a few at once: Opinion Staff Writer, Culture Editor, Abroad Culture Columnist, Editorial and Multimedia Director, Ramcast Co-host.

To look back on my personal growth is astonishing. A single extracurricular gave me the opportunity to build myself from the ground up. The Fordham Ram is a resume builder and a talking point, but it is so much more.

Our collective body of work is impressive by all standards, and I’m humbled to have been a part of it. We seek out the authentic truth and hold people accountable, regardless of how contentious our findings may be.

Someone once told me that working for a college newspaper is like little kids dressing up in their parents business clothes, but I don’t see it like that.

My fellow staff members and I are student journalists, and we have never claimed to be otherwise. This does not mean our work is childish or unimportant. I truly believe our weekly reporting can, and does, ignite change within our community, whether it be gradual or grandiose.

During my tenure at The Fordham Ram, we launched a podcast and made an email newsletter. We modernized our digital presence and increased ad revenue significantly. We created and innovated because we cared deeply.

Through trial and error we, like all college students, saw what worked and what didn’t—and made changes accordingly. If we made mistakes or got mad at our shortcomings, we acknowledged them and moved forward. Just as so many of the editorials I have penned can be summed up as “do better, be better,” I truly believe we have held ourselves to that same standard.

Above all, we thrive on mutual respect and trust at The Fordham Ram. Without it, we could simply not function. If one person doesn’t perform, the whole issue cannot come together. There is little room for hierarchy or ego. There is no task too insignificant or editor too important. There is a lot to love at The Fordham Ram, but the intersection of individual work and collective creation never ceases to impress me. I know I will look back on the experience fondly.

And now onto the laundry list of thank yous:

Thank you to my mother for instilling a love of the written word in me from an early age. The articles she wrote for her college newspaper inspired me to get involved on my own campus. What you say and how you say it matters. This is something we all hold dear at The Fordham Ram. 

Thank you to the editorial board of Volume 97 for giving an aspiring journalist the chance to learn. You took a leap of faith on a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed freshman, and I’m forever grateful.

Thank you to my former Culture Co-Editors, Libby Smislova and Erin Cabrey: my big sisters, sources of wisdom and fellow advocates of the feminist agenda.

Thank you to Laura Sanicola and Erin Shanahan, the editors-in-chief of volumes past for steering the ship in the right direction and setting examples for the leaders who come after.

Thank you to the Volume 100 editorial board. Jack McLoone, James Haranzo, Taylor Shaw, Theresa Schliep. Avoiding a lawsuit and writing in the royal we never felt so good.

Thank you to our trusted faculty advisor, Beth Knobel, for helping The Fordham Ram maintain its journalistic integrity, even in the face of controversy.

Thank you to the entire staff of Volume 98, 99 and 100. It’s been an unforgettable ride.

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To All The Tuesday Nights