mattlawyue
Currently in Tanzania, Africa doing media relations for the School of St Jude in Arusha.
Spent some time in public relations in NYC, and have written for SLAM Magazine, ESPN NewYork, the Boston Herald and BusinessWeek.
The College of New Jersey, '10.
The girl to my left was a stranger. The guy to my right was a stranger. Not one word was spoken between any of us for 20 minutes. Our elbows touched a couple of times, but that was about it. Our triumvirate was connected only by what stood in front of us. Food has this odd effect where you feel an immensely personal bond with the people who prepared your meal and the ones you share it with. If every family cooked good food on Thanksgiving there would be less talking, less arguing, and a stronger sense of kinship. Good food - the kind that becomes more than sustenance, the kind that pokes at your moral heartstrings, the kind that can turn a cynic into a believer - has this magical ability unlike any in the universe. For 20 minutes this afternoon, over a bowl of noodles, I got to know the strangers next to me, our slurping content to do all the talking.
(Image: Fernando Medina/NBAE via Getty Images)
