Go team! GO!

Boston University was a cesspool of apathy. Now wait one second before you go poo-pooing all the Eurotrash and rich kids. I loved attending BU. Everything from hearing an incredibly moving speech by Elie Wiesel, a visiting professor at the time, my freshman year and realizing I was going to have a lot of great opportunities in college, to drinking cold ones with the shirtless, angry Red Sox fans. But when our equally hated and respected chancellor, John Silber, woke up cranky one morning in 1997 and decided to scrap the BU football team in one fell swoop, well, who could blame him? I mean, except for the football players who where there on scholarship and suddenly had no reason to live. Our team a) wasn't good and b) was very bad. Besides hockey - which I still bring up everyone talks about college (We RULED at ice hockey, we RUULLLLLLEEEDDDDD!") - we BU kids weren't much in it for the sport. In fact, the school was so big and so varied (one of the things I loved about being there) that it was pretty hard for any passionate soul to generate enthusiasm for any cause, great or small. I remember once watching a group of about 15 admirable protesters marching in the light rain one morning, their cause: sweat shops. Their plan: to get everybody roused about the horrors going on in sweatshops around the world. People, for the most part, unfortunately, took one look at this group, this sad, wet little group, and turned back to their friends and their raspberry mochas without so much as a thought about inequity in the world.

Hockey. I'm telling you, that's all we cared about. And how much Boston College sucked at everything.

So today, friends, is going to be pretty neat. I'm headed out to watch the UNC/Maryland game on Franklin Street, and then will meet my friend at his old fraternity for some beer and rejoicing. Or sadness, whatever. My guess is it will still be a party. I'm going to summon the part of myself that always hurt, like an injured bird, at not being able to get into college sport, and I'm going to yell for the team when they make a touchdown! Or, when they do other important football maneuvers.

Yeah. We sleep in the same bed, suckers!

This morning Josephine and I were engaging in our routine chit chat - "It's windy!" "It's a beautiful fall day!" "It's so windy!" - when all of a sudden I heard myself utter the words, "Yeah, this morning Justin said it rained a little last night..." before I caught myself and with a slight gasp got ready to add the qualifying "I mean, I called him and he said," or "he dropped by and told me," in order to, well, not really lie, but make it seem at least a little possible that the two of us aren't living in sin outright. I like to let whoever it is - the religious or elderly or judgmental person - decide for themselves whether or not we deserve to go right to Hell. But then I remembered we got married. Ha! Married! And I continued on confidently with our always stimulating conversation, "but when I got up, well, it was sunny." And Josephine said, "Yup! I didn't hear the rain!" Two married ladies talkin' 'bout the weather.