Friday, 14 September 2001
Where’s the Beef?
Joey becomes a grill-seeker after Kimball cuts on weekend brunch.

Friday, 21 September 2001
The Campus Reconnected
Joey celebrates the real benefit of construction's end.

Friday, 28 September 2001
God’s on Our Side
Joey explains why the Cross is a safe bet against Yale this weekend.

Friday, 5 October 2001
The Good Old Days
Joey waxes nostalgic, pining for the halcyon days of 2000.

Friday, 19 October 2001
Holy Cross: Gotta Love It
Joey reveals his love-hate relationship with Holy Cross.

Friday, 26 October 2001
Making Up the Grade
Joey investigates the History Dept.'s weird grading scale.

Friday, 2 November 2001
The Suite Life
Joey blames his laziness and other faults on environment.

Friday, 7 December 2001
Where the Heart Is
Joey will yearn for home especially hard this month.

Friday, 25 January 2002
Chill on the Hill
Joey is not the only one surprised when winter comes to Woo.

Friday, 1 March 2002
Living Dangerously
Joey reflects on the fragility of life while riding Red Cab.

Friday, 12 April 2002
The Naked Campus
Joey is frightened by the re-emergence of the female form this spring.

Friday, 19 April 2002
The Man, the Legend
Joey tells his life story, as if you cared.

Friday, 26 April 2002
Passing On
Joey says goodbye to Holy Cross campus life forever.

What was it that Lord Tennyson said about spring? "In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love"? And right he was. It was just the other day, walking from lunch after an 11:00 in O'Neil, that your studious correspondent met up with his Kimball-patron compadre, decked out in shorts and a t-shirt.

"Ho boy," he said, gesturing toward Stein Hall, where students were filing out of class. "Get a load of that. It seems like every year they're wearing less. I tell you, this has got to be my favorite season of the year. No doubt about it. Don't walk so fast. Slow down and appreciate the fine ladies."

Yes, Joseph Brocklesby '03, rakishly handsome half-wit, often surreptitiously stalks the "fine ladies" (also "fly honeys," "hot chicks," and, if he's got a few drinks in him, "foxy broads"), even though we at The Crusader do not necessarily condone such actions.

It may shock you, Holy Cross, that in this enlightened age all it takes is a tank top and track shorts for bad-boy Joey to go on an ill-conceived pursuit that even his closest friends can't stop. I only mention this because I know that a lot of enlightened people read this paper, who wouldn't want to see the objectification of women belittled or joked about in this column. Plus I don't want to ruin Joey's chances of hooking up with the fly honeys in his History seminar.

"I swear, they're wearing less this year than they did last year," he said approvingly. "Ye gods, man, you can practically see everything! What's the story there? Am I right about this year being more or have they always shown this much?"

It had become too much for a simple newspaperman raised in the Midwestern heartland. "Hold on," he said, "don't leave. I asked you a question. Have those statues always been naked?"

Oh. Well, yes, Joey, they always have been. The mighty Science Complex has since time immemorial been guarded by imposing stone figures in their birthday suits. Courthouses may display the figure of blind Justice with her balanced scales; town halls trot out Columbia, the personification of American democracy, tolerance, and courage; but Holy Cross follows suit with statuary revealing the great ideal that our Jesuit fathers of yore wished their students to hold as the guiding light of their education: naked chicks.

The melting of the snow has afforded us all the chance to finally appreciate these inanimate temptresses once again, and not a moment too soon. What with the pressures of that 12-page Sociology paper, or that big French test, or the "daily journal" for which you need to make up 23 entries in time for Monday's deadline, we need these statues.

It's necessary to have this sort of security in our world of uncertainties, where today's stable energy conglomerate is tomorrow's flaming corporate wreckage, or today's shaky Red Sox closer is tomorrow's (allegedly) reliable starting pitcher, or today's unappetizing Kimball dinner is tomorrow's rehashed, reheated, and still unappetizing Kimball lunch.

And what of the other changes in the air, brought to us by the end of winter? The same warmth that melted the snow on our exhibitionist sculptures has uncovered the rest of the campus, from Freshman Field to Wheeler Beach. All manners of men and women for others have, no doubt, bemoaned this seasonal change, which has taken from us the joy of the snowball fight, the excitement of the Kimball-tray sled, the unintentional comedy of Physical Plant's little mini-dump-truck clearing snow on the sidewalks.

Perhaps nowhere, though, is the snow missed as much as it is on the Kimball Quad. There, in the southeast corner, once stood a bright, shining testament to the ingenuity and enterprise of Holy Cross students, a clear sign of the sort of moxie that makes a school No. 32 in the U.S. News & World Report rankings: a giant igloo.

The Igloo, which by many accounts was the largest inhabitable, freestanding snow structure in New England, stood as an enigma to some but an inspiration to others. Critics may choose to deny the genius of its creation or its worth on the Holy Cross campus. They may say its form was primitive, its materials common, its purpose ... questionable. Truly, though, the demise of The Igloo was a loss for Holy Cross, the loss of a trusted friend and valuable campus asset.

"Many a time, it gave me the confidence that I needed to succeed in class and in life," revealed Joey while munching on his Lower Kimball Eskimo pie. "When I was afraid that my Socs ("sosh") professor wouldn't give me an extension on my paper without a good reason, I just looked at The Igloo and realized: with faith, any snow job is possible. When I fretted about the steam rising from the hood of my car -- unaccustomed to winter driving, I thought it was overheating -- I thought of The Igloo and remembered: hey, just because it's giving off smoke doesn't mean it's too warm. And its very being was an inspiration, a memorial to our ability to better our campus by building a public sculpture that is beautiful, non-offensive, and useful."

Just like those naked women.

This article appeared in the 12 April 2002 edition of The Crusader, on pages 12 (second page of Features section) and 13. In ran under my original title, "The Naked Campus," but I like the editors' inside headline, "Spring Weather Exposes Campus," just as much.