The Republic of Cambridge

Life in B’ham was like life in a bubble. If I were Mormon, I’d say it was like life on a star, which sounds more poetic. It was too good and still true.

Once again, I find myself in a town that is a bubble. A star bubble. The only difference is I’m not a student this time. Oh yeah, and I have a husband and a kid. Oh yeah, and rent is exactly 8 times what it was in the republic of B’ham. I’m not kidding. Oh yeah, and rumors of winter weather and wind chill are beginning to make me a bit shifty. Oh yeah, and everybody in this town goes to Harvard. Or MIT. And one person I met, both.

Before our move east I wondered if we would meet a few pretentious academics out here. We’ve all met that kind of jerk who, by opening his/her mouth, so easily spoils business meetings, Q and A’s, lunch... When your education takes you to such lofty heights you cannot relate to the rest of the world, you not only do yourself a grave disservice, you make the whole world have to deal with yet another intellectual prick. And it’s not a real education you’re getting if you think what school you go to or what you learned makes you any more special than the guy sitting next to you on the metro. I mean, we just want to know - can you, or can't you, break it down on the dance floor.

What I have found to be true is that few people actually give a rat’s tail what school you go to out here. Everybody and their uncle is or knows somebody at a big named school - either here, or NY, or the other Cambridge or somewhere else.

Imagine: every single person in your apt is getting an $80,000 degree from Harvard. Every kid in the building across the street, and the building behind you, and the building behind that one, and the one across the street from the building behind the one behind you as well. Everybody goes to Harvard here, everybody has the sweatshirt to prove it. However, what does seem to be important is the brand of shoe you are wearing. Aren't those what really make the man? Shoes and overcoats. You definately need a good overcoat. Some days Mike and I must look like a pair of homeless bums walking around with a beautiful baby we must have kidnapped or something.

Life in the republic of Cambridge is a bit rediculous, but we do enjoy it here. Meantime I'm trying to convince Mike to get a pair of winter shoes, something pretty and warm to keep his feet from falling off in the cold.