Cambridge full of ghosts.
Solvitur ambulando
In June of 2024, Cambridge sizzled during summer’s first heatwave. Coming from the sweltering northeast Florida, I had hoped for a reprieve in the Northeast. Instead, after the first full day of summer residency, during my twenty-minute walk to my room, the heat that seemed to emanate from a clay oven singed me in my business casual clothes.
Few people out on the street hurried as if to get inside. A couple walked two dogs—party-colored cocker spaniels—who trotted briskly as if to avoid prolonged contact with the asphalt. I walked past a few hardy souls who were out for a jog. An elderly lady, using a hiking stick for a cane, slowly walked hunched forward, carrying a verdant green Whole Foods Market bag. A bicycle was parked beside a pole with a “no parking” sign. As I walked past a blooming bush, the air briefly became fragrant and returned to its musty self. I almost twisted my ankle as I navigated the uneven sidewalks that would abruptly change their height, especially in the areas where tree roots heaved and cracked the asphalt. I lowered my gaze and scanned the path ahead more carefully. It paid off as I avoided stepping into a dog poop once.
Beads of sweat had gotten into my eyes, and they burned. I removed my glasses, pressed my eyes into my shirt sleeve to get the sweat out, and wiped off the sweat from my forehead. I moved my light coat jacket from one folded arm to the other to give my inner elbow some breathing room. I had not anticipated the challenge of temperature variation between airconditioned rooms and outside, especially when walking a mile in a full-sleeve shirt with a spread collar and lined dark blue dress trousers, coat, or no coat. I needed new clothes.
Now, I could see the wisdom in my son’s choice of attire when attending classes in Tampa. After a brief pit stop in my room to hydrate and a cold shower, I followed Google’s directions to board an MBTA bus to the local Arcteryx store. I purchased shorts with a 9” inseam and a few ultralight merino shirts for the next two weeks. I was now ready to navigate the walk to and from my classes. The urgency of the matter meant breaking my rule of not buying such clothing items at full price!
That night, during Facetime, when they learned about my day, my wife and younger son chuckled, and my older son (who does not like to wear shorts) smiled. “This means you will not use any of the clothes you packed, right?” Her observation held. The heat wave did not abate during my stay, and I relied on my newly acquired wardrobe. However, I never became comfortable with wearing shorts to classes. It was reassuring that a few students in my class were wearing shorts. Walks became enjoyable. No longer distracted by the discomfort, my attention was directed outwards, and I resumed my habit of scanning the environment for compositions and making mental notes of places to photograph.
One glorious morning, I decided to go for a photo walk and headed out towards the University’s historic Harvard Yard—the oldest part of the University.
At the crossroads in Cambridge. Many paths present themselves to each of us. Pause, reflect, and chose your own path, be it well-traveled or not.
The forecast predicted a sunny and sweaty day. Low-angle luminous morning light created dark and defined shadows and bright highlights. Such conditions render exposure calculation tricky and test most cameras’ dynamic range. I usually opt for black and white in such light, but I changed my mind when I noticed a few clouds that softened the light just a smidgen, and colors glowed in the warm light.
The chiaroscuro the light created, especially on the sides of buildings with varying textures, elegant arches, repeating columns, and hard shadows, would have wetted Edward Hopper and Giorgio de Chirico’s appetite as they have masterfully painted scenes in such light.
The architecture changes as soon as one enters the campus.
University has excelled in creating spaces that foster opportunities for shared learning and prompts to nudge beahviors—to read, live, and laugh.
Read | Live | Laugh
"Sticky spaces"—where people naturally gather and linger—are commonplace.
I slowly made my way to one of the twenty-seven gates of Harvard. The route in my mind was to get to the Yard, walk around, and then return using a different streets, creating a loop.
Jenny M. Lu wrote an insightful column in the Harvard Crimson, Thank You, Tourists, After describing her daily encounters with the tourists, she mentions something that deeply resonated with me:
“We become desensitized to “normal” sights such as Memorial Hall and Annenberg. We spend countless hours in Widener Library staring at our laptop screens, failing to become entranced in the 3.5 million books surrounding us. What we consider our monotonous and unchanging daily routine is viewed as exceptionally unique to those outside of the Harvard bubble.”
I have had the good fortune to study at other premier institutions before enrolling in the master's program at Harvard. For years, I have worked at the world-famous Mayo Clinic, consistently ranked the number one hospital in the US. The feeling of becoming desensitized to one's surroundings and losing the sense of wonder and awe in such settings is common. It's important to periodically remind ourselves of our good fortune and focus on fulfilling the expectations many have of us. Those of us who are blessed with privileged access to such institutions must make good use of the knowledge and skills we acquire for the betterment of others.
The Harry Elkins Widener Memorial Library
The Memorial Church of Harvard University
The Luxembourg Chairs on the Harvard University Campus.
I recently wrote a blog post about how these chairs create sticky social situation.
Buildings & Halls
Old and new buildings sit next to each other.
Meyer Gate connects the Yard to the Science Center Plaza. Next to it on the wall is a plaque with an excerpt from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journals for 1836.
“I went to the College Jubillee on the 8th instant. A noble & well thought of anniversary. The pathos of the occasion was extreme & not much noted by the speakers. Cambridge at any time is full of ghosts; but on that day the anointed eye saw the crowd of spirits that mingled with the procession in the vacant spaces, year by year, as the classes proceeded; and then the far longer train of ghosts that followed the Company, of the men that wore before us the college honors & the laurels of the state – the long winding train reaching back into eternity.”
This image captured for me typifies a space that catalyzes interactions among people who look, learn, think, and lead different lives yet are part of the same community.
Given that Cambridge is full of ghosts, I wonder what their favorite haunts would be? The library? The Church? The cafes and bakeries around the campus? Or the Yard? I tread the same paths where millions over centuries have walked. They all left this place and moved on but likely took memories of the setting and people, vivid and faint, with them. Relocating many times, I have realized that one is bound to leave people and places behind, yet part of them stays with you while you leave some of yourself behind. For the caterpillar, one life ends, yet another, far more beautiful, though short-lived, begins.
