May 22 and the Signs of Spring

One of the small oddities at Northwestern, and one that I have enjoyed through the cruel days of April, is the practice of using masking tape to adhere posters to the sidewalks. I don't know if this resulted from a ban on putting signs on walls or if it was simply the genius of one fraternity brother that became a Wildcat tradition. Whatever the origin, the paper signs are everywhere on campus.  They do not last long.  Rain and the wear of students' feet are hard on the posters. They rarely look fresh more than a day or so.

Signs and left over masking tape from poster are in the area in front of "The Rock." The Rock gets repainted every day or so by some organization.  Today it is promoting a volleyball marathon fundraiser. I walk past The Rock every day on my way to class and see the constantly changing coats of paint and promotions of different activities and causes.  I did a little research on this Northwestern tradition.  The rock itself is a purple and white quartzite boulder that was transplanted from Devil's Lake in Wisconsin as a gift to the college from the class of 1902.  In 1957, the first coat of paint was slapped on the rock.  If you or your organization would like to paint a slogan or message on The Rock, you must stand guard for 24 hours before applying pigment. You do not need to go to Evanston to see what is happening on The Rock.  There is a webcam that is focused on the old boulder (it is in fact hundreds of millions years old.)  You can see a live shot of The Rock here.

Northwestern is a very rigorous academic institution but it is still a college.  This is the kind of sign you are likely to find taped to the pavement.  It seems that the only appropriate way to affix the posters is using masking tape. If any of my Golden Apple classmates read this before Sunday, we may still have time to enter a team.

After weather and foot traffic have taken their toll on the notices, a masking tape shell remains.  You can see that several layers have built up here. I suppose someone comes and removes these but I have never seen that.

The announcement that "Thunk turns 21" has suffered through some bad Chicago weather.  At first, I thought THUNK might be a fraternity brother but it turns out to be a Northwestern co-ed a cappella singing group.  Happy 21st birthday, THUNK.

Theatrical events and concerts use the sidewalk posters to advertise events.  Friday night was an evening with the Iliad. Despite the Mud Olympics, Northwestern is a little geeky.

The Norris Center is the student union.  It is always a good place to catch up on coming events.

This caught my eye. It is a chance to become Willie the Wildcat. I wonder if a Visiting Scholar is eligible for this position.  I would love to be a Big Ten Mascot.

After the Mud Games, it might be worth swinging over to this frat house for what appears to be a watermelon party.  Nice.

Many signs promote campus activities.  This is an opportunity to join the Drumline.  Next to Willie the Wildcat, this is the coolest way to spend autumn afternoons.

A lot of signs are more commercial.  Why didn't I think of starting a storage company for students?

I don't care what Dr. Grandlin is talking about. I just want to know where he got that shirt.

Some signs are more permanent.  This plaque is set into a rock just about twenty yards past The Rock.

This plaque on a rock in the old part of campus commemorates a commencement address given by Theodore Roosevelt.  I assumed Teddy gave the talk on this spot but it was actually in the Auditorium Theater in downtown Chicago.  

I love class gifts.  The Class of 1896 gave this really lovely bench pavilion.  It is tucked away in the middle of some bushes. No one ever puts posters on it. Right after I took this picture, I sat down and read here for a while with gratitude to the Class of 1896.

Northwestern is, I think, one of the most beautiful college campuses in the nation. If you were making a movie set at a college, this seems like how you would want it to look.  Walking to class every day has been one of the great joys of sabbatical.