ON THE CUT


maybe even cutting class.

Bare legs, bare feet, big smiles. Soccer balls, footballs, frisbees. Baseballs, bats, and gloves. Wooden rackets, metal rackets, tennis balls. Singles and doubles and random hackers. Hackeysacks. Soda bottles, water bottles, picnic lunches. Chairs and blankets and skateboards and bicycles. Even a tent.

People running and lounging and laughing. Walking and dancing. Some skipping. Small groups, big groups, solo acts, lounging on hills, sitting on ledges, jumping and tossing and catching and playing. Reading or typing, with open books or open laptops. Two radios -- one hip-hop, one reggae -- blaring across a field and meeting in the middle, grooving two different dancers who, each oblivious to the other, form an unlikely couple and beat a charming, chiming time on the lawn.

Two flags fluttering in the breeze. Two gatherings on either side of The Fence, with plastic cups and beaming smiles and laughter I can't hear but sure can feel. Two guys with guitars walking and strumming, knocking out a couple of good G chords, maybe an Em or two, perfectly in tune if not perfectly in step.

And so, like just about everything else today, perfectly imperfect on an impossibly perfect early afternoon in late March, when Carnegie Mellon looks and feels and smells and almost tastes like a place where work is good but play is better and fun, at least on warm sunny days, is always, truly best.

Posted: Wed - March 30, 2005 at 03:57 PM          

©