Category Archives: Nicole M.

December 5, 2011 · 7:00 am

The Frankly Pennies

Author: Leigh Ann P.

Surely you all read my previous post about party culture at the Sweeten House.  If not, I’ll wait. 

Finished?  I’m sure you were wildly entertained!  Did you leave a comment?

Last week our fearless Frankly Penn blog founder, Aimee LaBrie, hosted a fabulous soiree (can it be a soiree if it’s at 4 PM?) honoring all of us blog contributors – both of the frequent kind and of the once-in-a-lifetime kind.  Aimee created awards for each and every blogger and presented them at the event along with personalized gifts.  Everyone is so excited about their awards, and a few people around Sweeten have displayed them proudly in their workspaces.

Nicole is so excited about her award, she has it displayed right beneath her office nameplate!

 

Can you spot Lynn’s award among all of her daughter’s artwork?

Lisa V. doesn’t ever want to spin her chair around and NOT see her Frankly Penny.

Mine is covering up my William + Kate tea towel.  Am I finally tired of them?

Jason’s only regret is that the certificate is too small for the frame he had picked out for it. 

Hoopes’s award is displayed proudly on his credenza, along with his blogger pride pencil!  No wonder he’s proud: who else has an award featuring a cat climbing a ladder?

This is the best award Cecilia has ever received!

Have you ever received an award for anything?  Let us know in the comments!  If you want to be awarded next year with a Frankly Penny, you could be!  All you have to do is contribute to the Frankly Penn blog.  Contact Aimee LaBrie at alabrie@upenn.edu for more information.

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October 28, 2011 · 2:06 pm

Renovation! Du Bois College House

Author: Nicole Maloy, W’95

Did you know that the Du Bois College House has undergone an amazing renovation? It’s been a little while now, but some people still haven’t seen the changes to the residence where I stayed overnight when I first visited Penn, where I rehearsed with The Inspiration, where I watched The Cosby Show and A Different World on Thursdays (Cosby Night!), and where I stayed up all night playing spades. I was a “lifer” in this House (4 years!), and proudly served on the House Council. After countless programs, discussions, and celebrations, there is just no way to separate my experience at Penn from this more-than-a-dorm which offered academic and social resources in-house, and served as the model for the University’s entire College House system.

Du Bois College House was founded in 1972 for students interested in African-American scholarship and culture. What’s not in the official description is how the House has served as a home away from home for generations of students since then. With residential programs like Consciousness in Black Film and Theatre and Politics & Cultural Pluralism/American Indian Cultures, and a Du Bois Fit program to encourage healthy living, the House has more to offer to students today than ever before.

Let’s take a little stroll through the House in its newly renovated state, shall we? Special thanks to Ms. Trish for showing me around and letting me take these pictures.

At the entrance with Du Bois College House Dean Ms. Patricia Williams, aka “Ms. Trish.” She oversaw the entire renovation project.

Check out these beautiful new windows in the Multi-Purpose Room! Amazing the difference more natural light can make.

These student lounges are now on every floor. With these, plus the library, plus Seminar Rooms A & B, plus the computer lab, there is no shortage of space to work on that group project or get all that homework done.

These signs are over the trashcans. Penn is doing an impressive job with going “green,” and Du Bois is no exception.

Can you believe this? Gameroom. This is what the basement looks like now. Well, one side of the basement…

…the other side looks like this! And this isn’t including the weight room and cardio facilities down there now. I tell ya, back in my day, the basement was scary, and we didn’t have air conditioning in our rooms! These kids don’t know how good they have it! (waving cane)

Check out more photos of the renovated Du Bois College House on the official page. Enjoy, and try not to lament that all this happened after we graduated.

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September 30, 2011 · 9:04 am

A Must See Movie: “Thunder Soul”

Author: Nicole C. Maloy, W’95

It’s Mr. Holland’s Opus meets Stand and Deliver; it’s Drumline meets Dead Poets Society. It’s not a movie about a band, or their music. It’s about the man who inspired them to greatness by making them believe that they could be great. They proved him right. Then, 30 years later, they got together to show him that they remembered what he’d taught them. And I’m not just talking about the music.

The Director’s name was Conrad O. Johnson, Sr., otherwise known as “Prof.” He led the Kashmere Stage Band to undreamed-of heights for an all-Black group of Houston, Texas public high school students in the early ’70s. I’m talking the kind of heights typically found in fairy tales and made-for-TV family drama. But this is all true. Through interviews, rehearsal video, and amazing footage/photos from the band’s heyday, this documentary – Thunder Soul, named after one of the group’s songs – tells the story of the band’s formation, the success they achieved, and the 2008 reunion where alumni came together to play for their “Prof” one more time to say thank you.

The true story of Conrad Johnson & the Kashmere Stage Band. “He gave them everything. Now it’s time to give back.”

Shout out to Executive Producer Jamie Foxx for helping to make this movie possible. Read this article for his thoughts on the film, and why he was so compelled to be a part of it. It’s a good thing he was; it has already won two “Best Documentary Feature” awards, and nine Audience Awards. And counting?

I was fortunate enough to attend a screening of Thunder Soul in Philadelphia (alumni, you will get a chance at Homecoming 2011 if you can’t find it near you before November). It is not often I believe that everyone I know, as well as everyone I don’t know, should see a particular film. But you’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll groove, and you’ll leave knowing you’ve just experienced something powerful. And, if you happen to have ever played in a school band, or if you happen to care about kids having arts programs in school, or if you happen to enjoy ‘70s funk, well, then. So much the better. You will like – dare I say, even love – this movie even more.

But you’ll also like it – dare I say, even love it:

  • If you’ve ever had, or not had, the chance to show someone how much they meant to you.
  • If you have ever been a part of a team, in any form.
  • If you’ve ever taught someone how to do something, then felt the rush of pride in seeing them run with it.
  • If you’ve ever learned how to do something, then felt the exhilaration of running with it.
  • If you’ve ever run back to say, “Thank you.”
  • If you’re now thinking about the people you should be thanking.
  • If you’ve ever been in the minority, and been made aware of it by others (as if you didn’t already know).
  • If anyone has ever had low expectations of you that you went on to prove wrong.
  • If anyone has ever had high expectations of you that you went on to prove right.

Don’t let the fact that movie popcorn costs $75 keep you from going to the theater. You can always eat something beforehand.

You know the kind of movie you wished for, and that you said you’d support if it were out there? That anyone, from any background, can see and enjoy? That you can take your family to see, and that everyone, of every age, will actually like? That portrays a diverse array of African-Americans as thinking, feeling human beings rather than as insulting caricatures? That shows positive things happening while still being real? That is uplifting and inspiring without being cheesy? This is that movie, so here’s your chance to support it: find where it’s playing, and see it. Then tell someone about it.

And go ahead, get to that first “Thank you.” You’re about to make someone’s day.

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September 2, 2011 · 3:34 pm

T-shirts and track shoes and canes. Oh, my!

Author: Nicole Maloy, W’95

I’ve always said that one of the best things about working at Penn as an alumna is having one place to put all of my Penn stuff. In any other work environment, it might appear a bit odd, if not obsessive or psychotic. Yet here, it’s perfectly appropriate to have a shelf that looks like this:

At a university, this kind of thing is totally normal. This might not go over so well in, say, a doctor’s office. Especially the track shoes.

To be fair, this is not all of my Penn stuff. There is that whole matter of the shirts and other wearable items I’ve collected between the fall of 1991, when I arrived as a freshman, and the fall of 2011, as I greet the incoming class of 2015. (2015?!) The collection started well before my first semester, though. Its origins go back to the previous December, when I discovered I’d been admitted via Early Decision.

I got home from school and picked up the mail on my way in. My grandmother was staying with us at the time, so she was home. She sat on the couch, pretending to be calm as I opened the letter from Penn, took a deep breath, and began to read it aloud. I got as far as, “We are pleased…” and then started jumping up and down, doing the happy dance. Upon reflection, I am so glad she was there for that. I know how proud she was.

She was, perhaps, slightly less proud when I picked up the phone to call my Mom at work.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi.”

“I got the letter from Penn.”

“Yeah?” More pretending to be calm. It’s clearly genetic.

“Yeah, I got deferred.”

“WHAT?!” Momentary loss of composure from Mom. Grandma, who probably heard that, sat shaking her head saying, “Oh, Nicole,” while trying not to laugh.

Mom immediately caught herself and began to reassure me despite the fact that I knew she was cursing out the Admissions Office in her head. “Well, OK, so we’ll get the applications together for the other schools, and (other things I don’t remember because I was giggling into my hand and couldn’t hear her).”

“Mm-hmm. Thanks. By the way, I’m just kidding. I got in.”

I won’t write what she said next, but I assure you, it was said with great love in her heart. Then three generations of the women in my family shared a good laugh full of joy, relief, and pride.

With Mom and Grandma at my high school’s Senior Awards Ceremony. Mom is rockin her favorite Sally Jesse Raphael glasses. Work it, Mom!

That night, while I was watching TV, my Mom called me. I went upstairs. She asked if I’d get the clothes out of the dryer for her. I went back downstairs, a little annoyed that she made me go all the way upstairs only to go back down – she’s got volume, and could have asked for the laundry from where she was, saving me a couple of trips. But, hey, I deserved it, no? So I went down, grabbed a basket, opened the dryer, and pulled out two brand new sweatshirts, tags still attached. One was emblazoned with “PENN,” the other with “WHARTON.” Turns out, she’d bought them from The Bookstore during our visit that October, and had kept them hidden until tonight. Pretty sneaky, sis.

From then through years of jumping with Track & Field, singing with The Inspiration, living in Du Bois College House, joining Friars, and generally just being at Penn, followed by years working at the University, and encountering a clearance sale at Steve & Barry’s University Sportswear before they closed (remember them, oldheads?), it’s no wonder I sometimes didn’t even realize I was covered with Penn.

Here is a sampling. This doesn’t include the hats, the jackets, the sweatpants, my varsity sweater, or assorted other bits and pieces. Maybe one day my Mom will make these into a quilt. You reading this, Mom? You’re not still mad about that admission thing, are you? 😉

One day, I was in downtown Philadelphia and decided to observe a martial arts class. The guy next to me said, “So, do you go to Penn?”

I’m thinking, STALKER! I said to him, a bit defensively, “How did you know that?”

He said, “Um, your Penn hat, your Penn shirt, and your Penn shorts.”

“Oh. Heh. Heh.” It’s a good thing we were sitting, or he might have noticed the Penn windbreaker tied around my waist.

Ah, well, back to the office. Lots of memories on this shelf. Here are some close-ups of the shrine.

That’s my Hey Day cane! (The skimmer is a replacement.) DP article from the day after Hey Day with arrow pointing to me in the crowd. Friars wine bottle cover, baseball cap, and honor cord. Photo board has Hey Day shots with buds, along with shots of us at our 10th reunion. Bottom right is us trying to recreate our poses from when we visited as high schoolers. Mine’s pretty close – see center photo.

Photos with The Inspiration. My International Student Card from study abroad in France in 1993 along with a group shot with my fellow Lyon adventurers. The High Jump Shoes, Captain’s plaque, photo with Olympic and World Champion Decathlete Dan O’Brien, Penn Relays baton and program, and Franklin Field watercolor print (thoughtful goodbye gift from another Penn department). On the right – my graduation day kente cloth and tassel.

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August 29, 2011 · 3:48 pm

Weathering the Storm

Author: Aimee LaBrie

Well, that was a close one. At least, it certainly felt like it, especially if you spent any time watching the developing news stories, which warned of record-breaking winds, rain, flooding, trees through windows, dogs on rooftops, little old ladies flying by in their rocking chairs ala The Wizard of Oz.

At Penn, however, cooler heads prevailed. We were given regular updates on the status of the storm, on the availability of SEPTA and regional rails, and emails with documents attached detailing the best preparedness measures for hurricane-type weather conditions. In addition, the Penn homepage created a link to the most up-to-the-minute information about the hurricane. So,  even as I was receiving frantic emails from my mother (who lives in Florida and has actually witnessed serious  hurricane devastation) advising me to fill my bathtub with water, demand sand bags from  emergency services, and raid the local grocery store for 3 weeks of food and water, I was comforted by the constant and measured stream of useful information Penn provided during this stressful time.

And we made it through without too many casualties, except for the fallen tree branch outside of College Hall, which is currently being cleaned up in preparation for all of the students, new and seasoned, who will be returning to Penn’s campus very soon.

(Photos courtesy of Nicole Maloy, W’95)

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August 5, 2011 · 9:02 am

Bastille Day, Philadelphia-Style

Author: Nicole C. Maloy, W’95

July 14 is known as Bastille Day in honor of the French Revolution-launching “storming” of Paris’ Bastille prison in 1789. On Saturday, July 16, 2011 I got to witness Philadelphia’s version of the holiday. It’s safe to say that it deviates just slightly from the original; ours has waterguns, Darth Vader, and TastyKake.

Marie Antoinette with her royal guard… and Darth Vader with his imperial stormtroopers. OK, sure, why not?

Closer view. Marie Antoinette is the one who looks like a giant cotton swab.

When I first moved to Philadelphia, I wondered why I couldn’t find any snacks by Hostess. Twinkies are surely not an essential part of any diet, but it was strange that, here, they didn’t even seem to exist. I asked someone about it and learned that Philly’s preferred blend of sugar and preservatives comes under the local TastyKake brand.

It is fitting, then, that Marie Antoinette would trade in her usual “Let them eat cake!” for “Let them eat TastyKake!” and have her royal guard hurl hundreds of (thankfully, wrapped) cupcakes downward at the turbulent crowd.

“Let them eat TastyKake!” But first let them *catch* TastyKake.

Whenever the announcer said “Reign of terror,” the revolutionaries onstage (portrayed by the Old Fort Mifflin Historical Society) aimed Super Soakers at the crowd and fired upon us. It was very Rocky Horror, especially considering the costumes. Attendees had been encouraged to dress either as angry revolutionaries or aristocracy, and a costume contest took place onstage for those daring souls who actually dressed up (I was not one of them, sorry). This was not long after a very lively can-can number had gotten the crowd clapping along to the familiar music. At tables throughout the street festival, children made crafts with Fairmount Art Center, DiBruno Brothers gave out samples of French cheese, Fare offered tips on French wine, and people of all ages got their faces painted and picked up little French flags to prepare for the revolt.

It is fitting that a local re-enactment of the storming of the Bastille would take place at Philadelphia’s own Eastern State Penitentiary, which is now a museum (that includes the former cell of Al “Scarface” Capone). It hosts an annual haunted house that is consistently ranked among the best in the nation so, if you’re into that sort of thing, it might be worth a visit this Halloween. But, if you prefer your costumed craziness to take place outdoors, in July, during the light of day, then watch for next year’s Bastille Day Celebration in Philly. This unique, local spectacle is definitely worth seeing at least once.

If you’re going to be guillotined, you might as well enjoy one last bottle of champagne. I have to say, I like her style.

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July 8, 2011 · 12:00 am

Down (to) the Shore

Author:  Nicole C. Maloy, W’95

The first time I heard someone speak of “going down the shore,” I imagined a map of a shoreline on a wall, with an animated stick figure starting at one point on the shore and traveling downward. Going down the shore sounded like a process. I would eventually learn that it is a destination; the word “to” is implied. To non-natives of this area, “down the shore” translates as “to the beach.” It sounds like “downa shore.” No relation to Dinah Shore. She’s from Tennessee.

I never once explored the Jersey Shore when I was a Penn student. To be fair, my spring semester weekends were spent at track meets, and my summers were generally spent in Ohio. Still, what a shame not to take advantage of Philadelphia’s relative proximity to the ocean! It’s only an hour to Ocean City, where I took my first surfing lesson  a few years ago.

Yes, surfing. Who knew there was surfing anywhere around here? Not I. And, let’s face it, it’s not Hawaii, by any stretch. But for a total beginner like me, Jersey-sized waves were just fine; the Hawaii Five-0 theme song would be in my head either way. And Jersey’s a heck of a lot closer to home. And I bet they don’t serve funnel cake at the Banzai Pipeline in Oahu. Sign me up for a trip to the Jersey Shore! Ahem – downa shore.

With the legendary Matt, who teaches at 7th Street Surf Shop in Ocean City, NJ. He is hilarious.

Turns out I’m a “goofy foot” surfer. Somehow this seemed fitting. This actually means I lead with my right foot, where most lead with their left (those boring souls would be “regular foot”). My high jump takeoff foot was my right when most others used their left, so at least I’m consistent.

Paddling out for the first time, before I even tried to pop up on my first wave – right foot forward – I knew I would return. I have always loved the water, and frolicking in the waves on a sunny day is standard-issue fun, but this was different. Going past the waves, getting away from the crowds, anticipating the ride back in and, most of all, just being out in the water felt pretty amazing. Didn’t taste so amazing, but that’s part of the deal.

It intrigues me that you have to fight the waves to get away from land for the express purpose of collaborating with them to get you back. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere. For the record, there are real waves, and real surfers, at the Jersey Shore. If your timing is right, you’ll get to see some pretty impressive moves. And you know what? The view is even better from the water, on a board. If you can stand, if you can swim, if you can get downa shore, then you can take a surfing lesson. So…do it!

You pass this on the way to the water. Duly noted.

The sign said I had to “share my stoke,” so I have since organized several trips for others who want to learn to surf. Here, Matt is teaching the sequence of movements these people are about to try out in the water.

And they’re off!

Heading out on a different morning with friends and rented boards.

By the time this photo was taken whatever I was riding was nothing but foam. But I was still on the board, baby! Woo!

After a somewhat less successful attempt, yet still smiling. If this is life downa shore, sign me up!

On a beautiful day like this, even *waiting* for a wave is fun. Life is good when you’re floating on a surfboard, hanging out with friends. You gotta try this sometime.

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June 10, 2011 · 10:00 am

On the Right Track…and Field

Author: Nicole C. Maloy, W’95

A few times a week during my undergraduate years at Penn, I would run along a curved, “J”-like path, hurl myself backwards over a long, horizontal bar, and land – poof – in an undignified position on an enormous, dusty, blue cushion. Then someone would either cheer for me or yell at me (usually the latter) and I would do it again. And again. And again. Such is the life of a high jumper.

I always look so anguished mid-jump, but hey, whatever got me over the bar. If you really want to see a show at your next track meet, watch for the pre-jump ritual dances. All jumpers have one. Home meet at Franklin Field, spring 1993 (sophomore year).

But why do it?

You know, that is an excellent question. High jumping is not exactly a useful skill. There was a TV movie in the ‘80s about legendary American athlete Jesse Owens, whose epic, four-gold-medal-winning performance in Berlin’s 1936 Olympics shattered Hitler’s hopes of proving Aryan supremacy at the Games. Towards the end of the movie, a kid steals a lady’s purse and runs. Nearby, an older Jesse Owens takes off after the kid. Who knows if this was based on a real incident, but I still remember seeing the kid struggle to climb over some pile of debris and keep running. Then, there was the Jesse Owens character, in a business suit, hurdling that same pile in slow motion. The moral of the story? Hurdling is both cool and potentially useful. And don’t run from Jesse Owens.

Penn’s Varsity Track & Field Team Captains are each given a baton at the Penn Relays. Penn’s illustrious Chaplain, Chaz Howard, C’00, keeps trying to trick me into giving him mine. Sorry, Chaz!

I’ve tried to come up with scenarios where being an ex-high jumper might come in handy. Here’s what I’ve got: I’m being chased by someone evil. Up ahead of me is a fence, and there are walls on either side, so there’s no way out but over. And the walls are far enough apart that I can run my “J.” And the fence is lower than 5’ 9 ¼” high. And on the other side, there is a big stack of mattresses.

Yeah. I accept that high jumping knowledge doesn’t transfer well. But what I love about my event, and Track and Field in general, is that it’s raw. It’s about the body and what it can do, just because, end of story. How far can you throw? This far. How fast can you run? This fast. How high can you jump? This high. Next question? Few tasks or results in life are so clear, so easily measurable.

Front and center with fellow Team Captains, Maggie Morrow, C’95 and Monica (McCullough) Walker, C’96 in the 1994-95 team photo

The student-athlete experience adds something else to the mix: a special kind of school spirit. On the track or on the field, you are your team, you are your school, and you are identified from afar by your school colors. Student-athletes wear those colors on behalf of their entire university, and the team members who came before them. There’s pride at stake. I became sensitive to certain shades and color combinations within the Ivy League, and it took me years to get to the point where I could wear some of them in public without feeling like I was wearing the uniform of an opposing team.

Other than temporary allergies to rival school colors, what did I learn from my days as a high jumper?

Sometimes there is no middle ground. Either the bar stays up or it doesn’t. Sometimes the wind knocks it over, but usually it’s the jumper. What could I do better next time?

Sometimes you do get a second chance (and a third), but it’s better not to need it. You get three attempts at each height. Room for error is nice, but doing it right the first time saves time and energy for the harder jumps to come (FYI: the bar supports on each side are called “standards,” so the officials are literally “raising the bar” and “setting a higher standard” with each new round. That’s one to grow on).

Sometimes you are capable of more than you think you are. A good coach – or set of coaches – will see where you are able to go, equip you for the journey, challenge you until you arrive, and be there to celebrate with you once you get there. I showed up as a freshman walk-on to the team with a personal best of 5’4”. I left as a Senior Co-Captain with the school record of 5’ 9 ¼”. Who knew? They did. NCAA Division I coaching is nothing to sneeze at if it could get me 5+ inches higher in the air.

Sometimes it’s out of your hands. The outdoor season was always my favorite, though that blasted wind would often mock me by taking down the bar just steps before I reached it. Rain made running on the “J” curve an adventure in trusting the spikes in my heels to keep me from skidding (distinctive to a high jump shoe for this very reason). And you haven’t lived until you’ve landed in the “pit” (the big dusty cushion) after an hour of rain. The weather was out of my control. All I could do was my best to get to – and over – the bar.

 Sometimes it’s all in your hands. When conditions are perfect, you’re feeling good, and you have three attempts ahead of you, it’s just you and that bar. It’s personal. However many people are watching, the results of the jump are entirely up to you. Will you rise to the challenge? If so, how high?

You know, maybe high jumping has more transferable knowledge than I gave it credit for.

In my Penn Varsity sweater at Homecoming 2008. These red sweaters with blue felt “P” haven’t changed much over the last century, so it’s quite a bonding moment to run into different eras of alumni wearing the same sweater with just as much pride.

Hats off to Adria (Ferguson) Sheth, C’97, seated far left in the back row of the above team photo. That super-fast underclassman grew up to fund Penn’s first women’s varsity coaching position endowed in a woman’s name in honor of former Head Coach Betty Costanza, who founded the Women’s Track & Field program at Penn. Let’s have a rousing, sports movie slow clap for Adria. To Betty and Assistant Coach Tony Tenisci, I love you both forevah for putting up with me, and for teaching me to fly, a few seconds at a time. Thanks for pushing me to push myself harder. Thanks also to Dick Fosbury for being the good kind of crazy. Enjoy this Visa commercial narrated by Morgan Freeman about the radical “Fosbury Flop” method of high jumping that revolutionized the sport. Aside: if the “Go World” Olympics ads don’t move you, you have no soul. This is the one that gets me every time. OK, and this one. And this one, this one, and this one. But anyway, back to Dick Fosbury….

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May 13, 2011 · 8:47 am

Putting Some English on It

Author: Nicole C. Maloy, W ’95

A few months ago, I received an e-mail from the Free Library of Philadelphia  seeking volunteers to train to become English language conversation group facilitators. The timing on this was uncanny, as I had just begun looking for such an opportunity; I frequent a local French language conversation group, and the presence of native speakers is always a great help to the rest of us. We marvel at their generosity and patience as we stumble through the linguistic minefields of subjunctive tense and the gender of inanimate objects. Yet the French nationals in the circle gently guide us in the right direction and, most importantly, never point and laugh at us despite our frequent mistakes. I appreciate it so much that I wondered whether I could somehow do the same for people in Philadelphia who wanted to practice their English.

La Tour Eiffel! Was able to pop up North to Paris for a couple of days. Gotta love the “Train of high speed.”

Because I spent a semester abroad during the fall of my junior year, I know how intimidating it is to be surrounded by people who may as well be speaking a dialect of Charlie Brown Teacher-ese (i.e. “Mwah-mwah mwah mwah-mwah”). I know how unnerving it is to utter sentences to strangers not knowing how I will be received, or whether I will even understand the reply. And my trip was only four months long. Nothing was at stake but my semester grades.

Fall 1993 semester abroad in Lyon, France with 16 fellow Quakers and our advisor

I liked the idea of doing something to help people with much more at stake, who have made a longer-term commitment to conquering a language, and who are willing to put in the time to make it work. How pleasant it was to learn that library branches all over the city had begun to offer regular occasions for international adults to practice their English. I am so proud of Philadelphia for making these available for free! These are not English as a Second Language courses, but rather – just as important, in my opinion – casual conversation sessions where people can gain confidence putting to use what they have already learned, or are currently learning.

So far, I have met adults from their early twenties to their late sixties, hailing from Morocco, Ukraine, Spain, and more, all converging here in Philadelphia, all seeking to improve their ability to engage in the most essential of human social endeavors: to understand, and to be understood. I am honored to pay forward some time as an investment in the future of this great city of brotherly love. How happy am I to be a part of the effort? This happy:

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April 15, 2011 · 9:01 am

You’re the Inspiration

Author: Nicole C. Maloy, W’95

While dining at 1920 Commons with some fellow freshmen in the fall of 1991, I saw a sophomore named Tanisha carrying a stack of those ¼ size sheets of colored paper – you know the ones – from table to table. When she got to us, she looked at me and asked, “Do you sing?”

I shrugged and responded, “A little.”

She smiled, thrust an orange handbill towards me, and said, “Audition for The Inspiration!”

I struck a defensive posture, hands up, palms out. “Oh, no. You don’t want me,” I said.

I’d just heard The Inspiration (often mistakenly referred to as “Inspirations”) at Performing Arts Night. The audience was mesmerized by this incredibly smooth, polished, R&B a cappella group. My singing experience at the time consisted of high school musical showtunes with the drama club, and harmonizing with the radio. Let’s say my style (such as it was) seemed all wrong for The Inspiration.

Honing in on my concern, Tanisha replied, “I auditioned with an opera.”

My hands came down. “Really?”

She nodded.

Hmm…Hmm…

Had anyone else approached me, I would not have taken that flier. But I did. As a result, I would give up every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday night for four academic years. In return, I would gain a room full of new siblings, and memories that still make me smile 15+ years after graduation. An example: a fire drill once interrupted our rehearsal in High Rise East. We gave a brief, impromptu performance for the growing crowd in Superblock until everyone could get back inside. We were asked to sing at all future fire drills, but politely declined.

The real Sopranos

Just being in the group made my singing better, but who knew I would learn how to arrange music for a cappella performance? By the time I was an upperclassman, the group gave me the amazing opportunity to produce full concerts as a Show Coordinator. Our events were meant to educate as well as entertain so, in addition to living a dream and writing sketch comedy, I got to arrange a song by supergroup Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Then I asked a hallmate from South Africa to translate the lyrics from Xhosa to English for us. This way, we could explain to the audience what they were about to hear.

Post-show Happiness

Duet with Byron. T-shirts designed by Ralphy Bead! I still have mine.

Each time I step back onstage with other alumni (lovingly dubbed, “oldheads”) at a show by the current group, I am moved by the significance of The Inspiration’s continuity on the Penn campus. Having been a part of it, knowing that our shows have added to the quality of life here over the years, is a source of great pride. I offer special thanks to Tanisha Lyon Brown’s background in opera for making it all possible for me.

The Inspiration’s 5th Anniversary show

 

FamilyFeud sketch: Evans (Good Times) vs. Banks (Fresh Prince of Bel Air)

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Filed under Memories of Penn, Nicole M., The Arts at Penn