Category Archives: Writing

Guilin: Mountains and Waters of Eternity

The river forms a green gauze belt; the mountains are like jade hairpins. —HAN Yu, a Tang dynasty poet

Courtesy of Chris McLennan

The name Guilin (pronounced “kway-lin”) may not ring a bell to many; however, almost everyone has seen its signature beauty. Seldom does a book or travel magazine promoting tourism in China miss the chance to include a picture of the sheer limestone pinnacles jutting up along banks of the limpid Li River. Sometimes, it’s a nightfall scene that captures the magic of this city—perhaps a fisherman, dressed in clothing made from palm leaves and a traditional conical straw hat, lighting his lanterns on a narrow bamboo raft with his well-trained cormorants.

Providing backdrops for countless Chinese landscape paintings, Guilin has long been a tourist Mecca among domestics. Today, with more quality Western-style hotels and resorts—ranging from the 27-year-old Sheraton Guilin to the newly constructed Shangri-La Hotel, from the only State Guesthouse Ronghu Lake Hotel to Merryland Resort and its award-winning golf course—this enchanted land starts to gain attention from outside China.

Courtesy of 白雪石 (BAI Xueshi)

Speaking of international recognition, the Li River was recently named number four on National Geographic’s World’s Top 10 Watery Wonders, after Victoria Falls, the canals of Venice, and the Great Barrier Reef. The mother river of Guilin, Li originates from the Mao’er Mountains, winds through the city towards Yangshuo, and continues as the Gui River after merging with two other streams in Pingle. Several stretches make up the flow of about 271 miles, and each has its distinctive beauty. Hardly can a local appreciate every bit of Li due to the length, let alone tourists. Fortunately, a variety of signature sights happen to lie on both banks within the city limits and every step of the way—whether venturing southeast towards Yangshuo, exploring other counties, or choosing to stay near the highest peaks in the region.

Courtesy of 旅遊品質保障網 (Tourism Quality Assurance Network)

However far the Li conducts you along its winding miles, a bit of delicacy will make the day better. Here in Guilin, rice noodles are a civic icon, a tourist draw and a cultural obsession steeped in 2000 years of history. Each bowl consists of either spaghetti-shaped or linguine-shaped noodles, sliced marinated beef, crunch pork belly, minced pickled string beans, roasted soybeans, and fresh minced green onions. Often imitated around the world, the rice noodles are rarely duplicated successfully outside Guilin for lacking the soul—the dressing. Each shop treating its unique sauce as a top trade secret, the recipes, however, look almost identical—water from Li, regionally grown spices, and animal bones and gutting. Two of the leading shops, Fulin and Shiji, are 20-year neighbors—each with its die-hard fans. Both care much more about the satisfaction of each customer than about winning in numbers. Located by a downtown crossroad, both stores open 24/7, working to satisfy every bit of lust for this iconic dish regardless of the time.

Courtesy of Momentary Awe Photography

Not far from the rice noodles shops, on the western bank of Li, is Guilin’s emblem, Elephant Trunk Hill. Shaped as a huge elephant drinking from the river through its trunk, the hill thus earns its name. Thanks to plate movement and erosion, a gigantic pure limestone tower thrust up from the seabed over 300 million years ago, and ever since, running water has been carving the hill to its present-day configuration—a semi-rounded cave, named Water Moon Cave in between the trunk and the legs. A full moon casts two moons upon the water—the second formed by the inverted reflection of the cave. It is said the water never stops flowing away, but the moons stay even when the moon sets—hence the name “Moon over the Water.” On the top of the hill, stands a two-story pagoda built in the Ming dynasty (1368-1644), consecrated to Samantabhadra, a Mahayana Buddhist bodhisattva, who mounts a white elephant with six pairs of tusks. Interestingly, seen from afar, the hill looks just like the mounted elephant that brings happiness and peace to the man’s world.

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Courtesy of Carl Gabrielsson

On the other side of the town sits Seven-star Park, just across the river. The biggest and most comprehensive of many, Seven-star Park features a long history and various attractions: Camel Hill, in front of which Clinton made his 1998 environmental address; Guilin Zoo, where panda Fengyi and Meixin and other animals reside; Crescent Pavilion, a long lasting Buddhist nunnery. Seven-star Cave, an extensive limestone cave complex under the Seven-star Hills that roughly resemble the stars of the Big Dipper constellation, tops all. In the cave, stalagmites, stalactites, stone curtains, stone flowers and stone pillars abound. With colorful illumination bringing dramatic effect, the cave suddenly turns into Willy Wonka’s world of pure imagination—some look like a lion playing with a ball; some look like a bridge of magpies across the Milky Way; some look like a koi traveling to the sea.

Courtesy of Dariusz Jemielniak

If and when ready to leave the city, Li has way more to offer. A cruise down the golden waterway from Guilin to Yangshuo reveals the dreamlike shan shui—the mountains and waters—all along. This 51-mile handscroll unfolds with foliage-covered peaks, crystal water, deep ponds, and shallow shoals. The placid river exquisitely reflect as a mirror, with the magical scenery rising straight out of the water; meanwhile, flowing mists linger around the mountains, concealing them and then exposing them in moments of surprise. Small villages with vistas of an idyllic life in rural China dot the valleys, where wisps of smoke curl up from kitchen chimneys, eventually mixing with the mist halfway; women kneel on the banks, washing clothes; peasants follow behind their water buffalo, plowing the rice fields; kids play, chasing each other on the grass…

The ride to Yangshuo ends without notice. There, a fishing-village blends tradition with modern, Eastern with Western, just as a well-mixed “Yangshuo Slapper” served at the local-famous Buffalo Bar& Cafe. Located on one end of West Street, Buffalo serves all three meals in either Chinese or Western fashion, with a large selection of beer, wine, and spirits. The owner, 46-year-old Australian Alf Exposito, says the otherworldly natural scenery stunned him, and so did the beauty (now his wife), Ming Fang, when he stepped on the territory of Yangshuo. He soon decided to settle down here and open a small bar business to welcome friends visiting from afar. Exposito’s idea never lacks support, or rather, competition—after a few entrepreneurs succeeded with their businesses, one after another Western-style bar and restaurant opened and lined the pedestrian-friendly street, making the name Foreigner’s Street popular among locals. Nowadays, the street attracts more Chinese tourists to come into one of the bars to have chocolate cakes or pizzas, experiencing a slice of Western culture, as Americans in the United States go to Chinatown and Little Italy.

Courtesy of Laitr Keiows

A corner turn from Buffalo is situated the bus station, where coach buses back to Guilin are available every 20 minutes. In no time, the bus arrives in Guilin—just as rich an adventure waiting for the next day of exploration.

Every year, as summer grudgingly gives to a clear, crisp southern China fall, attention turns to osmanthus trees that shadow every corner of the city. As the osmanthus flowers, blossom by blossom, burst into bloom, the whole city is awash with the pervasive sweet-orange scent, reminding local and tourists they are in the Forest of Osmanthus Trees—as Guilin translates—rather than in a fine Chinese ink wash painting.

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DoSomething.org Announces the Do Something Music Festival 2014 Line-Up

For Release: May 1, 2014; November 5, 2013

Contact: Yanqitian Huang, (XXX) XXX-XXXX, yshuang@bu.edu

BOSTON—DoSomething.org announced the artists performing at the Do Something Music Festival 2014, set for July 12 and 13 at the TD Garden, Boston; the line-up includes Miley Cyrus, Macklemore, Rihanna, Justin Bieber, Demi Lovato, Bruno Mars, Taylor Swift, and Justin Timberlake with more to be announced in the weeks prior to the event.

Courtesy of DoSomething.org

All proceeds from the Do Something Music Festival 2014 will benefit DoSomething.org and its national campaigns, which aim to encourage young people to become active citizens and leaders in their communities.

For the second year, artists will perform over the course of two nights at Boston’s TD Garden; a performance by Demi Lovato will begin the two-day Do Something Music Festival 2014 on Friday, July 12 at 8 P.M.

“This year’s incredible line-up of global superstars will surely make the Do Something Music Festival 2014 our best event ever,” said Nancy Lublin, CEO of DoSomething.org. “We are honored and appreciative to have so many renowned artists join us, inspiring more young people to take action on causes they care about and make a difference in the world. On behalf of all who will receive the support that DoSomething.org provides, we thank each and every artist for his or her participation.”

“The majority of my fans are young people, and I think it’s so important for them to realize they can have an impact on society,” said Demi Lovato, the host and opening artist of the Do Something Music Festival 2014. “I couldn’t be more excited to be a part of this music experience and, more importantly, social movement.”

Tickets will be available via Ticketmaster on May 15 at 1 P.M. EST. To avoid re-selling and scalping, all tickets will be held on will call; proper I.D. of the ticket purchaser will be required.

More information about the Do Something Music Festival 2014 is available at http://www.DoSomething.org/Festival.

Artists are subject to change without notice.

DoSomething.org is the largest organization in the United States committed to young people and social change. DoSomething.org sponsors a wide-range of campaigns that allow young people to take action on causes they care about. By leveraging the web, television, mobile services, and pop culture, DoSomething.org is on track to activate five million 13- to 25-year-olds by 2015, who recognize the needs of society and believe in their abilities.

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Asian Studies Initiatives at Boston University Hosts Museum Tour

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: October 22, 2013

Contact: Yanqitian Huang, (XXX) XXX-XXX, yshuang@bu.edu

BOSTON—On Saturday September 26, Asian Studies Initiatives at Boston University (ASIABU) will take students on a guided tour of the Asian Export Art Wing and Yin Yu Tang of the Peabody Essex Museum (PEM). The tour leaves at 10:30 A.M. from East India Square at 161 Essex Street in Salem. Participants can carpool or caravan to the site.

Courtesy of Yanqitian Huang

“This is a great opportunity for students majoring in history, arts or culture, and anyone interested in Asia to widen their knowledge on Asian arts and culture,” said Ayako Watanabe, the President of ASIABU. “And more importantly, it’s also a great chance for them to socialize with others with similar interests.”

Courtesy of Michael Lin

The Asian Export Art Wing is the country’s first permanent space for the collection of decorative art made in the Far East for export to the West. Numbering approximately 12,000 objects produced in China, Japan, India, Sri Lanka, and the Philippines, the collection reflects the  interaction between artistic and cultural traditions of East and West for almost 400 years. The collection includes a variety of artifacts ranging from porcelain to precious metals, from furniture to paintings, and from carvings to textiles.

Courtesy of Peabody Essex Museum

Yin Yu Tang, meaning Hall of Plentiful Shelter, is a late 18th century Chinese house that was removed from its original village in Anhui province and re-erected in PEM in 2003. The 16-bedroom home of the Huang family, Yin Yu Tang depicts life in the house for eight generations over a 200-year history of family and cultural change in Huizhou region, part of southeastern China.

The tour returns to East India Square at 12:45 P.M. for a quick reflection session.

All fees, including admission and guided tour, are covered by ASIABU, though participants are responsible for travel and accommodation costs.

“Considering students may have difficulties getting to the museum by themselves, ASIABU will leave as a group at 8:45 A.M. from Barnes and Noble @ Boston University Bookstore at 660 Beacon Street in Boston, taking public transportation,” said Yi-An Chen, the organizer of the event at ASIABU. “The round-trip fare is estimated as $18.50.”

More information about the tour is available by emailing asiabu@bu.edu.

Established in 2007, Asian Studies Initiatives at Boston University (ASIABU) serves as a liaison between students and Asian Studies faculty at Boston University. In order to promote opportunities for students, regardless of ethnic backgrounds, to learn about Asia and to develop career goals related to Asia, each semester ASIABU hosts numerous lectures, tea talks, roundtable discussions, excursions, and other academic and social events related to the study of Asia, including the annual Asian Studies reception.

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Letter from Principal Huang

Dear alumni, families and friends,

Principal HuangIn 1994, a group of concerned parents decided to organize a Chinese school where children from every background could learn the language and more importantly, traditional culture of China. Twenty years later, with support from all of you, the Chinese Language Institute of Boston now stands as one of the largest Chinese schools in Greater Boston.

Since its establishment, the institute has devoted itself to raising public awareness of Chinese culture and heritage, enhancing the social well-being of Chinese Americans, and providing an environment for all people to learn Chinese language and culture.

On the eve of our 20th anniversary, the institute is looking ahead, seeking a new level of expansion that can only come from you. We appreciate gifts in all forms and sizes—including the contribution of your time and talent. Every gift makes a difference.

Thank you for your continued support.

Sincerely,

Yanqitian Huang, Principal

Upper Schoolmen Speeches on Thanksgiving Highlight Annual Contest

On the night of November 15th, Irene Wong, co-founder of the Chinese Language Institute of Boston, awarded Stanley Welch-Cheong the top prize in the annual Upper School Mandarin Speech Contest. This year’s contestants spoke on the theme of “Thanksgiving.” A Commonwealth High senior with plans to major in Chinese studies in college, Welch-Cheong will receive a $300 scholarship.

The winner of the contest Stanley Welch-Cheong (left) and the co-founder of the institute Irene Wong (right) Photo credit: Mike Chang

In his speech, Welch-Cheong spoke about how his mother has introduced him to Chinese language and culture and inspired him along the way. The judging panel of four co-founders ranked the speeches for content, organization, and delivery.

“I’m so proud of my son Stan,” said Lisa, the mother of Welch-Cheong. “And I was thrilled to hear the appreciation from him, in Mandarin. However, I think all the thanks should go to the institute, for it has aroused and kept Stan’s interest in his own heritage, and perfected his Mandarin.”

Joanne Ly, of St. Charles Academy, tied Ryan Teo, of Concord School, for second place. Each was awarded $200 for well-organized and -presented speeches—Ly praised Monica Jang, a faculty member at the institute, and Teo thanked opponents.

“Being thankful is one of the virtues that our ancestors have passed on from generation to generation, and this contest offers everyone opportunities to practice that,” said Wong. “It’s a great way to showcase the outcome of our education—in both language and culture—and I’m pleased.”

Twenty-­four

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Beijing Capital International Airport,” a female’s voice buzzed in my earbuds. “Local time is 11:45 P.M. December 12th, and the temperature is 36 degrees Fahrenheit and two degrees Celsius.”

I took off my eye mask and earbuds, wrapped them, put them in my pocket, and looked around—some people stood in the aisle, some tiptoed reaching their luggage in the overhead bin, and some queued a line snaking slowly to the exit. I knew I was here, a place I called home.

Sixteen hours in the air exhausted me, also washed away some of my excitement. I decided not to rush, but to take time enjoying the last moment away from home.

When the plane quieted, I dragged myself wearily to the front.

“Thank you for choosing Delta Air Lines, and we are looking forward to seeing you aboard again,” the aircrew said with passion as I passed by. “Have a great night!”

“Thanks,” I replied, mechanically.

As I walked on the jet bridge, one giant poster in Chinese after another jumped into my view. I suddenly realized that “thanks” might have been the only English I would speak the whole time. I turned back, hoping to say something more; however, what I saw was the closing door.

Then I sighed deeply and walked away languidly.

Everything else went smoothly—claiming my checked luggage, going through customs, catching a cab, heading to the hotel, and checking in. Sleepy and sluggish, I did not wait for another second to lie down. And I remembered clearly, it was almost three in the morning when I was setting up the alarm.

The next day, I woke up early. Not sure if that was from jet lag or anxiety, I still felt rested even though I only slept for less than five hours. After washing and changing, I sat down trying to write down tasks for the day. As I started listing, I found myself distracted— ideas such as reunions with friends and family, and enjoying missed delicacies occupied my mind, making me long for the coming weeks.

A long while later, I left the hotel room with my to-­‐dos. And it was half past ten. Walking on the street in Beijing really was an experience more similar to being in New York than Seattle—people seemed to walk in their own worlds. Though it was still different, for almost everyone had a facemask on. I couldn’t stop wondering if there was an influenza pandemic. Soon I was enlightened—while hearing two cleaning ladies talking about the smoggy weather that had been around lately, I noticed that the sky looked brown, and the floating dust blanketed the sun. Suddenly, the term “haze” from high school came into my mind, and I meantime felt the unexpected dizziness, which I knew from the past was a sign for me to puke.

A few deep breaths eventually calmed me down, though I was still gasping heavily. As I continued walking on the street to a crossroads, I lifted up my head only to see that all-­‐ too-­‐familiar green two-­‐tailed mermaid Starbucks logo across the street. At that very moment, I checked the time on my watch—only a quarter to noon—and decided to go get a sweet  treat.

The store was not big. With sets of tables and chairs huddled together, it somewhat seemed even tinier. I walked straight to the counter, and there was a Caucasian who looked like a businessman in front of me ordering. Shortly it was my turn, so I paused my Britney Spears, ready for my late morning caffeine.

“Hmm…. May I have a Grande White Chocolate Mocha with whip on top, please?” I asked, with a flow.

“Uh…,” the lady seemed shocked, with her eyes wide open.

At that moment, I was reminded that I was no longer in Seattle. As I was about to apologize and switch the conversation into Chinese, “Par… par… pardon?” she mumbled.

She spoke in such a low voice that no one could understand. But I read from her lips and I was sure that was what she said. I felt somewhat relieved. “She’s able to speak English, after all,” I said it to myself. In fact, I was worried about being laughed at for not knowing how to order a cup of coffee in Chinese since I hadn’t done so.

So I repeated myself as if how others did to me when I first arrived in the States, “I want a White Cho-­‐co-­‐late Mo-­‐cha, Gran-­‐de sized, with whip cream on top.”

“Yes, yes,” she said with her head nodding and one hand reaching to a pile of cups.

Thinking that she might have gotten what I meant, I reached to my back pocket, took out my wallet, looked down and tried to find cash to pay.

“You want… how… how big?” She raised her voice trying to get my attention. “What?” My mind was off for a second.

She hesitated, and said, “How… how big… [do] you want?” “Oh…, um… Grande, please.”

“The… the big one?”

I was dumbfounded—no one had ever use the word “big” with me. “Okay, I don’t care how you call it. But what I want is the 16-­‐ounce one. Got it?” I got a bit impatient.

“The…?”

“That one!” I pointed at the pile of Grande cups.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” She lowered her head, shyly reached for a cup and started making the drink.

After getting my coffee, I left 40 Yuan in cash on the counter and fled the store, even though the coffee cost only 32 and no one tipped in China.

Panting and sweating from fleeing, I slowed down and started to wonder what was wrong. And my phone rang.

It was one of my best friends from high school, Jimmy, who came to Beijing for college after graduation. Interestingly enough, if I didn’t choose to study abroad back then, we would have become schoolmates for at least another four years. He asked me if I would like to have a reunion dinner that night with a couple other good friends of us who were in town. I said yes, and we reserved a table at a well-­‐known steakhouse at seven.

As the night fell, all four of us—Jimmy and I, together with two other girls, Tracy and Emili—met in front of the restaurant. After short greetings, we went in, sat down, ordered and waited.

From the moment when we walked in, I began to consciously tell myself that I ought to do as Romans do when in Rome, while in this case, as Chinese. Fortunately, everything around kept reminding me that I was no longer in the States but China—even how silverwares were placed made no exception.

It was a bustling place that was crowded with people, and that was noisy with clanking and clatters—one fell as another rose. Rather than calling it a steakhouse, I would think that the name “food court” made a better sense.

Not to be outdone by the others, we began to talk. Or to be exact, they began to talk. “Are you guys watching the new TV series Empresses in the Palace?” Jimmy threw the question out. To be noted, the show later became so phenomenal in China that almost everyone watched it as if it was Friends in the US.

“Yes, I just started it!” Tracy screamed, as if she just met her long-­‐lost relative. Meanwhile, Emili seemed a bit more calmed, but her excitement couldn’t be hidden.

“So did I.” She responded.

“Have you?” Jimmy asked, looking at me. And suddenly, all eyes were on me. “Hmm… uh… no…, I haven’t yet.” I hesitated, although there was really nothing for

me to hesitate about for I simply hadn’t watched it. Though as I was saying the words, I could totally see their surprised looks on their faces. And I surely did know what was coming.

“How dare you!” said Tracy, with her brows knitted. Such reaction was exactly the same as how a friend of mine who was born and raised in the US reacted when knowing that I had never watched any of the Star Wars series.

I blushed, not knowing what else I could say.

Jimmy seemed to see my secret sorrow, and said, “So… let’s change the topic.” e paused, looked around and focused on me. “How was it, Sam?”

“What, how was what?” I was confused by his question from nowhere. “The US,” he explained, “How do you like it?”

“Oh,” I replied. “It is… nice. Oh well, hmm… decent.”

Emili really could hide her excitement no more. “Tell us about it!” she said. “Hmm… uh… ah…,” I was incoherent.

“Thank you for waiting,” said the waitress placing our salads on the table. “Enjoy.” As the waitress left, I felt that I freed myself a little from falter.

“Itadakimasu!” said Tracy, with both her hands together. She then picked up the entrée fork and started working on her salad.

“You ought to start with the fork from the far left!” My heart cried out, though I didn’t say a word. Instead, I comforted myself, “Probably… nobody cares.”

As we were all focusing on our plates, Jimmy, again, ended the silence. “So… did you know that Christine Fan had come to Beijing weeks ago and had a concert?”

Alas!  I  took  a  heavy  sigh  and  I  felt  relieved—I  no  longer  had  to  continue  answering the question that I had no idea how to anyways. However, I didn’t know, Jimmy’s topic-­‐ switching question eventually led to a non-­‐stop talk among us, as a matter of fact, among them.

From day to day life to public affairs, from latest movies to future lectures, from celebrity tidbits to classmate gossip, there was nothing that they left out for the night. I was listening to them, hoping to get a couple of words in, but I simply couldn’t. Maybe I was too afraid of leading the conversation back to how I liked or disliked about the US, though.

As their endless talk was going, I couldn’t help but think about the last year in high school that we spent together—we four were placed in a study group in which we bonded as brothers and sisters who went to classes together, went for meals together, and even

went back to the dorm together. But now, things were not the same—I was excluded as an outsider.

We stayed in that steakhouse until the waitress came and informed us that they were about to close at ten over and over.

When it came to the time of parting, I lied, “The food was great, and you all were amazing!” In fact, I didn’t quite lie. The meal was all right, the company was fine; however, I was just in low spirits.

After that thirty-­‐minute farewell in front of the door, I was on my way back to my hotel, deep in thought.

That night I couldn’t sleep, and I was sure it was not because of jet lag this time. In bed, I thought a lot about home. I had always considered Guilin, in which I was born and raised, as my home. I also considered Beijing my home—not for the amount of time that I spent there, but for the welcoming feeling that the city had given me. Because of that, I had always thought that was part of home, but it was clear that things had changed.

Somehow, I simply felt that there was nowhere I belonged—not China, not any more, nor the States, at least not yet. After a year and half away, setting feet on a place I used to call home made me like a visitor. And that somewhat gave me the insights into how the rest of the trip would be and what the meaning of it was. Suddenly, my excitement had gone away completely; instead, I had fear—fear of seeing family and friends.

I didn’t know what to do, but to fall asleep. It was almost midnight, as the iPod dock said. People say, there is nowhere like home. Though in my dream, I told myself, home might not always be like home.

Ashley Adamson (COM ’07) Returned as a Jack Falla Speaker Series Presenter

Sharing praise for her former professor and passing on his wisdom to aspiring sports journalists, Ashley Adamson (COM ‘07) returned to Boston University on the evening of February 6 as a presenter for a newly established speaker series.

“This is an unbelievable career that you are pursuing,” Adamson said to more than 60 students in the audience. “It’s hard to remind yourself that when you are eating Lean Cuisine at 2 o’clock in the morning, and you know, you are shooting high school football in a snowy field in Syracuse when your best friend is having her rehearsal dinner in Florida.”

A studio host for the Pac-12 Network, Adamson was the fourth speaker of the Jack Falla Speaker Series. As a former student of Prof. Falla, in whose memory the series was founded, Adamson recalled him as “the most humble and sincere person” in an industry where “people with huge egos” are dominant. She encouraged her audience to embrace his values as they enter the workforce, giving extra care to those who don’t get the recognition they deserve.

“What goes around comes around,” she said. “Your career satisfaction is directly related to how you treat your co-workers.”

Referring to her personal experience, Adamson wished she had known earlier that there was no set path to success in journalism. She advised all potential journalists to be true to themselves and to be open to possibilities.

Adamson closed her speech by emphasizing the importance of building connections. Calling Prof. Falla a “mafia” because of his network of former students in various fields and locations, she said that “it meant the whole world” to her that he stayed in touch.  Falla was “the only one” she wanted to see when coming to Boston.

Zijun “Betty” Huang, 20, a sophomore studying journalism, said after the speech that all the advice that Adamson gave was helpful for her future career. “[What] I found most intriguing is her easy and positive attitude towards work,” said Huang. “It seems like she got some good fortune, but what helped her the most is her attitude.” Huang also expressed her desire to participate in future events.

Dean Micha Sabovic, who manages the Jack Falla Speaker Series, expressed joy at seeing the purpose of the series fulfilled. Most events have sold out, and additional seats were added. Dean Sabovic said that students enjoy the speakers.

Dean Sabovic’s latest newsletter introduced Ben Sturner (COM ’99), a sports business owner, as the speaker on March 5. More detailed information is available on COM’s Twitter account: @comugrad.

The college founded the series in Fall 2012 in order to continue Prof. Falla’s tradition of bringing guest speakers, especially COM alumni in the field of sports journalism, to campus to share career insights and advice, and to network. Past presenters include Peter Stringer (COM ’98), the Senior Director of Interactive Media for the Boston Celtics, John Buccigross, a sports anchor for ESPN, and Justin Kutcher (COM ’02), a broadcaster for Fox Sports.