TODAY BEGINS Commencement Week.

Thirty thousand chairs will appear out of nowhere and the Yard's grass will be trimmed with nail scissors.

Despotic dorm crew supervisors will make their workers lick the shower stalls clean (three times). Loose floor tiles in the houses will be repaired overnight and daffodils will suddenly appear in every patch where Facility Maintenance's Fast-Gro grass seed failed.

Isn't it nice that Harvard puts on such a lovely show for its graduating students? You can tell a university really cares about its progeny when its goes to such lengths.

Illusions, illusions.

You realize what it's all about when the alumni start to arrive. They are the ones for whom the lawns are clipped, showers licked, tiles glued and flowers grown. They are the ones Harvard is trying desperately to schmooze. They are the ones who return with the knowledge that Harvard will put on a good show for them.

EVERY YEAR Harvard holds the same party for its returning graduates. Alumni events are much like car washes. The process stays the same--only the customers change. The clients are stroked and doused with cold liquids, and then expected to cough up some cash.

And the customers don't really even change. Take, for example, a conversation between oldtimers Sedgwick Witherspoon III '41 and former college sweetheart Candice Houghton Smith '41:

"Where's the booze, Skipper?"

"Eh?"

"Where's the booze, Skipper?"

"Oh, about 6:30. Where's the booze, Muffy?"

"Who are all these people making noise outside? Agitators? Pass me another martini, if you will."

"They're students. Probably taking drugs. I'll take one too, a double. Damn kids today, probably all addicts."

Lloyd Wentworth Chesterton '66 spots Sarah Parker '66 across the room: