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So it's midterm time, and you say you don't have time to read the sports page because you've got a Gov 20 exam at noon. Just for a minute, though, forget about those last 200 unread pages of "The Civic Culture"--it won't be on the test anyway--and read this column. It's a test too, and it may help get you into the mood.
About 25 years ago, when Harvard students still held pep rallies instead of protests on the steps of Widener (or have things changed again?), the banks of the Charles were like the hills of Hanover. Bonfires, effigies, the whole shot. Even the House intramural teams had official nicknames. And therein lies the test.
Match the House to the correct nickname, and no peeking at 1956 Crimsons. Answers explained below. The tradition waned throughout the '60s, so Qunicy, Mather, South, North and Currier Houses--relative newcomers to the intramural circuit--lack official monikers. Now for the answers. Adams House: If you ever seriously considered this House as the place to live, this one should be easy. Here's a hint. The Gold Coast Cleaners used to be right next to Harvard Pizza, and the building with the best rooms in the House is called the Gold Coast. Get it? Dunster House: I don't know what happened to the reputation, but this House used to be known as Harvard's party central. It was a real fun place to live. The Dunster Funsters. Eliot House: Nobody but Eliot family historians and poets with a feel for alliteration will get this one, but it turns out that the elephant was a central theme on the family crest. As for poetics, it's the Eliot Elephants. Dudley House: People affiliated with this House don't like here, but they come to school every day. They walk, they ride bikes, they drive, and they come by subway. In short, they Commute. I bet you feel silly if you didn't get this one. Kirkland House: This nickname is as obscure as Eliot's, and you've got to go back to the early 19th century to find the key. Anyway, John Kirkland (Harvard President 1810-1828) was a minister. Also, the old Kirkland yearbook was called the Deacon's Notebook. Another word for minister, sort of, is Deacon. Leverett House: Things should get easier at the tail end of a matching test, but this is a real stickler. Leverett House resident and soccer captain Michael Smith (Leicester, England) might be able to figure it out, though, because leverett is a British word for a rabbit. Rabbits, Bunnies, they're all the same. Lowell House: Some people say the Lowell bell tower is the most beautiful or at least the most Harvardian piece of architecture in Cambridge. Everyone agrees that the Sunday afternoon concerts are among the worst sounds this side of Khorramshahr. Good or bad, the bells dominate Lowell House. The men of Lowell are really boys, Bell Boys, that is. Winthrop House: Remember fifth grade history? You studied the American colonies, and although you got an unfortunately biased version, you did learn that Massachusetts Bay colony was settled by the Puritans. Does the name John Winthrop ring a bell? Original Puritan, and Harvard president. It's all starting to fit. If you got all eight, you should win the Straus Cup. Four through six means you'll probably flunk that Gov 20 midterm, since your biorhythms are at an all-time low. Less than four? You must be a freshman.
The tradition waned throughout the '60s, so Qunicy, Mather, South, North and Currier Houses--relative newcomers to the intramural circuit--lack official monikers.
Now for the answers.
Adams House: If you ever seriously considered this House as the place to live, this one should be easy. Here's a hint. The Gold Coast Cleaners used to be right next to Harvard Pizza, and the building with the best rooms in the House is called the Gold Coast. Get it?
Dunster House: I don't know what happened to the reputation, but this House used to be known as Harvard's party central. It was a real fun place to live. The Dunster Funsters.
Eliot House: Nobody but Eliot family historians and poets with a feel for alliteration will get this one, but it turns out that the elephant was a central theme on the family crest. As for poetics, it's the Eliot Elephants.
Dudley House: People affiliated with this House don't like here, but they come to school every day. They walk, they ride bikes, they drive, and they come by subway. In short, they Commute. I bet you feel silly if you didn't get this one.
Kirkland House: This nickname is as obscure as Eliot's, and you've got to go back to the early 19th century to find the key. Anyway, John Kirkland (Harvard President 1810-1828) was a minister. Also, the old Kirkland yearbook was called the Deacon's Notebook. Another word for minister, sort of, is Deacon.
Leverett House: Things should get easier at the tail end of a matching test, but this is a real stickler. Leverett House resident and soccer captain Michael Smith (Leicester, England) might be able to figure it out, though, because leverett is a British word for a rabbit. Rabbits, Bunnies, they're all the same.
Lowell House: Some people say the Lowell bell tower is the most beautiful or at least the most Harvardian piece of architecture in Cambridge. Everyone agrees that the Sunday afternoon concerts are among the worst sounds this side of Khorramshahr. Good or bad, the bells dominate Lowell House. The men of Lowell are really boys, Bell Boys, that is.
Winthrop House: Remember fifth grade history? You studied the American colonies, and although you got an unfortunately biased version, you did learn that Massachusetts Bay colony was settled by the Puritans. Does the name John Winthrop ring a bell? Original Puritan, and Harvard president. It's all starting to fit.
If you got all eight, you should win the Straus Cup. Four through six means you'll probably flunk that Gov 20 midterm, since your biorhythms are at an all-time low. Less than four? You must be a freshman.
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