The Secret Garden

I was in Washington, D.C. last month with some European relatives who were sightseeing. Lo and behold, one of the major attractions my French relatives wanted to see was Dumbarton Oaks, the beautiful gardens and research library owned by Harvard.

According to the website, "The name combines a reference to the original great oaks on the site, several of which are still standing, with the eighteenth-century name 'Dumbarton,' taken from the Rock of Dumbarton in Scotland." Harvard has owned the property since 1940. Scholars use Dumbarton Oaks resources for Byzantine studies, landscape architecture studies and Pre-Columbian studies. The public has access to some of the resources, including the gardens. And the gardens are famous. Created by landscape gardener Beatrix Jones Farrand, they are probably among the most beautiful in the world.

So my aunt, uncle, cousins and father walked with me through Georgetown in search of this Harvard-owned Eden. We strolled through the streets of old and posh Georgetown, past graveyards and row upon row of brick homes, hunting for the famous flowers. When we reached the high black gate, there was already a crowd gathering for its opening. We lined up in front of a window to pay for admission. I noticed that the pricing sign didn't list any special favors for those with Harvard ID, but I was almost certain I wouldn't have to pay a dollar.

"Can I get in free with a Harvard ID?" I asked the cashier. She shook her head. I was stunned. But I wasn't about to give Harvard any money--even if it was $5--to get into the garden. I watched my aunt and cousins file past me into the green.

Over $35,000 a year, and I couldn't get into the garden with my Harvard ID. What is a Harvard ID worth? It's not like it would cost the University a tremendous amount to allow Harvard College or even Harvard University ID holders into Dumbarton Oaks for free. Harvard students in D.C. are unlikely to put a serious dent in Dumbarton Oaks' coffers. I don't need to spend money to get onto property that my university owns. So I waited outside the gates until they were done. When they came out, they said it was one of the most amazing gardens they'd ever seen.

I went home and took the Web tour. Not quite the same thing, somehow. But considering the fat check my family writes this school every year, I should have gotten into Dumbarton Oaks for free. Who is Harvard catering to, if not its students?

--Vasugi V. Ganeshananthan

You Dirty...Mouse?

As prominent politicians exchange bitter words over the appearance of "rats" in a G.O.P. campaign ad, we at Dartboard would like to remind our peers of a Rodentia problem of a different nature: Dirty mice.

Not the furry type, mind you. We're talking about computer mice. The white, plastic type who reside in labs like Maxwell Dworkin and the Science Center. Each day, they bolt across their pads, from one corner to the other, dragging, dropping, zooming, clicking, clicking, never resting.

All is well and good until they start to get dirty. Rather, until their balls start to get dirty. You see, in the midst of all that scampering and clicking, all sorts of rubbish gets sucked up into the ball area. This is a bad thing. Many mice rely on their balls for agility, speed and overall vitality. As rubbish and grime builds up in the ball area, our little friends suffer from symptoms ranging from sluggishness, jumpiness, paralysis and even chronic depression. Millions of mice each year are killed or severely crippled by Dirty Mouseball Syndrome (DMS). Here at Harvard, almost every mouse in every public-use computer lab has been afflicted by DMS in some way.

But, there is hope.

All we need to do is take better care of our mice. Specifically, we need to clean them. Even mice already afflicted with DMS can be cured by one simple cleaning.

It is not a terribly complicated procedure. First, anesthetize the mouse. Then gently turn it over on its back and carefully remove the protective ring surrounding the mouseball. Remove the ball and, with a sterile object (or finger), scrape away any visible dirt or grime. Replace the ball and cover. The surgery takes a little less than a minute, and recovery time is virtually negligible. And, more importantly, our little friends will be literally scampering with joy.

--Richard S. Lee