Harvard, Schmarvard
When sorting through holiday party invitations, you know you’re in for a real treat if the venue is a house with its own name. You know, as in “The White House.” The soiree I attended last night was in a house perhaps less well-known, but no less glamorous.
Specifically, it was at the “Gough House,” which sits directly across the street from Lafayette Park in Pacific Heights. San Francisco abounds with parks; but what sets this one apart is the fact that one General Gough apparently drank himself insensate there, and was subsequently brought up on charges relating to his debauchery. Or at least that’s what the placard inside the Gough House says, but the source is somewhat suspect – It was written by my friend and party host John Newmeyer, who is trustworthy in every respect except one: He took one of his degrees from Harvard. As a Yale man myself, I’m naturally suspicious of folks from the Crimson Tide.
Those suspicions were reinforced by some of the bizarre events that took place at the party: Shortly after my arrival, a plum pudding emerged from the kitchen, whereupon it was promptly set ablaze. This was announced by the ringing of a bell, and there ensued a ritualistic march around the house accompanied by some mysterious Harvardian chant that was recited in severe tones. It seemed like some kind of conjuring ritual, and I half expected the ghost of Christmas past to appear . . . wearing crimson robes, no less. Everyone seemed grimly satisfied by this custom, as though they had just witnessed a virgin sacrifice.
What’s wrong with you Harvard people? At Yale, we have more practical, sensible rituals . . . like chugging booze from a chalice whilst our fellow Yalies cheer us on. Or running naked through libraries in the dead of winter. Or going to football games in a drunken stupor, all painted up like a tribal warrier. Now that’s tradition!
I tried to initiate a modified version of some Yale customs with the eggnog and mulled cider, but my fellow party-goers didn’t go for it. Not sure whether it was the chalice-chugging, the nudity, or the warrior paint that did it, but somehow it just didn’t take. Guess I’ll have to find a Yale party for that.
Posted on December 21st, 2007 by Thomas
Filed under: Uncategorized
Actually I don’t recall ever singing this song, but I wanted to invoke it since the fair name of Harvard has graced your blog:
Fair Harvard! we join in thy Jubilee throng,
And with blessings surrender thee o’er
By these Festival-rites, from the Age that is past,
To the Age that is waiting before.
O Relic and Type of our ancestors’ worth,
That hast long kept their memory warm,
First flow’r of their wilderness! Star of their night!
Calm rising thro’ change and thro’ storm.
Farewell! be thy destinies onward and bright!
To thy children the lesson still give,
With freedom to think, and with patience to bear,
And for Right ever bravely to live.
Let not moss-covered Error moor thee at its side,
As the world on Truth’s current glides by,
Be the herald of Light, and the bearer of Love,
Till the stock of the Puritans die.
Lux Et Veritas? Isn’t that just a bit derivative? Well can we at least join together in being superior to that lower (but wealthier) form of life called the Stanford Cardinals?
And you never sang this? Perhaps one has to be eating a booze-soaked plum pudding to be properly “inspired.”
And as for your “derivative” allegation, I have this response: “Veritas” sucks . . . ‘cuz it ain’t got Lux!!!
Heheheheh…
Ok, so I went to a state school.
San Jose State University to be precise. We had the lovely tradition of commuting. Which basically meant there isn’t any extreme school spirit, but a bunch of rich techno-geeks.
**important note** Participate in school activities, whatever they be, when you’re in school. I didn’t participate in the Commuting tradition of SJSU and as a result have not become a rich techno-geek. Serves me right…