During the last few weeks, it seems we've been inundated by the tradition of Harvard. Last weekend, the Head of the Charles Regatta graced the river for its 35th year. Crowds gathered at Weeks footbridge, as they do every October.

They watched sculls slip by seemingly without effort in the sport that has demanded so much time through the decades from Harvard men and, lately, from Harvard women. As befits a traditional race, the spectators basked in the sun and munched on fried dough, hot dogs and junk food of unknown origin.

Earlier this month, Harvard announced to a crowd of administrators and what it euphemistically calls "friends" that the University had, once again, filled its coffers higher than any other university in history. The $2.325 billion Harvard raised in its capital campaign, mostly from alums, served to underscore the economic power of its tradition.

But, to make certain no one missed that point, the University made its announcement from the Manhattan Harvard Club, a bastion of the old guard with worn red carpets, dark wood panelling, deep leather chairs and dim lighting.

The Club is redolent with the atmosphere of Harvard as it was before any of us, or many of our parents, were even born.

Last month, we all arrived on campus to find the physical restoration of tradition. Construction workers were scaling Memorial Hall to erect the new tower at its top. This $4 million project is designed to restore the architecturally grand building to its old glory.

And we are, of course, inescapably surrounded by reminders that we are students at the oldest university in the United States, whether we are criss-crossing the Yard or relaxing in the courtyards of the many red-brick Houses.

But, despite all this emphasis on tradition, Harvard has shifted decidedly away from the traditional in its approach to the intellectual side of life.