nccotus

I did something stupid when I returned to Harvard for my second semester as President of the Advocate in the fall of 1982.

I curled up in bed and hid. For a few days. And let everything slide.

the upshot was that everybody quit th e ir jobs and there was a skeleton crew, ultimately there came the time for the election of the new, incoming boardmembers and it was very encouraging, there was a huge turnout. But someone was very hurt by some commandeering I had done in my sheer ignorance and the upshot was that nobody bothered to get oil for the furnace; the pipes burst; and the beautiful special issue from two years earlier all in boxes in the basement ready to be shipped out was completely ruined, this had been the tender labor of love for a kind and lovely being who only asked that I had gotten the copies that he had earmarked for a few critical recipients. Obviously this was a disaster. I was so ill with acute paranoid stress psychosis that I couldn’t be called for comment in this regard at that time. Forty two years later I’m in. I understand now that the problem could gave been fixed at the time with money to reprint the magazine. I don’t know maybe he did. I never heard anything about it. I have had this guilt on my shoulders down all of these years, it was such a beautiful work and my malfeasance was so petty and ugly next to it.

I am praying right now that he did go ahead and fund a reprint of this issue, so much work had gone into it. That my power to do ill was less than I imagined.

kudos to the Advocate, God bless them and keep them

I got a kind word from one of the die hard old Advocate boardmembers that was supposed to close it out for me and cut me loose after the final executive board meeting but my asshole roommate blocked it and left me dangling in her clutches instead. Where I have been ever since.