Hometown Boy Ben Fellers Returns to Happy Valley

03 31 2011_EMCKENNA-Ben Feller

By: Emily McKenna

           

Ben Feller grew up with University Park as his playground.

           

The Foster Conference of Distinguished Writers brought Feller, the chief White House correspondent for the Associated Press, downtown to the State Theatre on Tuesday night.

            “When you’re from here and then you go to school here, it really does become a part of you,” Feller said.

            The State Theatre was a packed house as Feller turned on his charm and offered the audience some sincere advice about life as a journalist.

            “My trick is that there isn’t a trick,” Feller said. “Writing is really a craft that you have to work at.”

            The room was silent as Feller read one of his own articles on President Barack Obama’s visit to the Dover Air Force Base where he greeted 18 fallen American soldiers in October of 2009.

            Feller spoke of the gravity of that moment for him as a journalist. As a correspondent in the press-pool of only a few individuals he was telling a story that no one else could see.

“For me that particular article was about capturing the imagination,” Feller explained.

He emphasized to the students that good stories are everywhere and that they should never overlook what is right in front of them.

After a few Bill Clinton impressions, and stories of his days covering bear hunting season, it was clear that Feller doesn’t save all his charisma for his writing.

Kate West, a communications major, asked Feller what he thinks of the future of the journalism field.

Feller responded, “The medium will change, but I think that journalism is as important as ever.”

Hobo the Bulldog

Hobo the English Bulldog, is 7-years-old and is being given away for free at a PETCO in NY. He was given away after his owner was diagnosed with cancer and could no longer take care of him.

Fifteen Minute Description

I am sitting in a chair and staring out a window with a wire mesh screen. I see a cloudy sky and everything has a gloomy, gray tint. I see four trees, each with its wirey limbs barren from the winter weather. On the tree closest tiny buds are just appearing almost ready to blossom for spring. Two people are walking quickly across from the archway on the other side, both have a folded umbrella hanging from their wrist. Another girl appears from inside the archway, she has on a raincoat and a pink backpack, she is holding a water bottle. From the right a boy in running clothes comes down the stairs on to the main level and jogs across cutting off the girl with the water bottle. Half the windows in the building across have their shades drawn, others windows are flung wide open. Two guys and another girl linger in front of the window I am sitting at slowly smoking their cigarettes. The smoke drifts up toward my window and mixes in with the humid air. The air is moist but the wind brings a familiar winter cold in to the room. The fan on the window sil is on because the heater is still blasting. The light on the archway across the way flickers on. The sky becomes a darker gray. I look down at the clock on my phone, its 5:50. Its almost time. Suddenly doors are opening and closing behind me, people are trickling out of the dorm building and hurrying across the quad. Some people are alone, others in twos or larger groups. They march across and then disappear into the building.  I am sitting in my dorm room in West Halls watching the dinner rush across the quad. Like clock work, every night at 6pm the flood gates open and like "Pavlov's dogs" students rush to the commons.