But it wasn't the sight of his bodily injury that shocked me. It was the fact that he was directing rescuers to another individual trapped in the mass of wood beneath him, thinking of the life of another student in the midst of excruciating pain.

"All this for a football game, huh?" the pundits and talking heads wondered for the next few days. The losses were described as "senseless," and "in vain." A&M's Corps of Cadets (the largest ROTC unit in the United States) was described by Sports Illustrated as "a campus clique whose members shave their heads and wear military-style uniforms." The mass media dishonorably framed Bonfire as something akin to a fraternity prank.

But there is nothing "in vain" about Jerry Self's death; look around you, and you will notice why. Harvard has a lot to learn.

On your way to class today, observe the atomized "community" here at Harvard College. Look at that girl you see every day on the way to the Science Center who stares at the ground as if it were talking to her. You know the one I'm talking about. Or see if anyone holds the door open for you on the way into Sanders Theater.

The A&M/UT gameday lies somewhere on the Texas importance spectrum between one's wedding anniversary and Christmas. Gigantic flags fly from the homes of graduates as they watch the game from home or attend as one of the 86,000+ spectators. There is interest: a commodity that Harvard has been short on for a long time.

I will never expect to see the same kind of support for a Harvard-Yale football game anymore than you should expect me to come and see someone perform a chemistry experiment. We have different interests. Unfortunately, these interests are so diffuse that we often seem to be completely independent of each other. Some of this is our fault; however, some of it is not.

Who decided to have the parade for the parade for the women's ice hockey national championship team in the middle of the day when almost every student is in class? And where is our Student Center?