I love Boston University as much as the next guy, but there’s one thing our school’s missing. It’s not something we once had but then lost. It’s not something that we can go out and buy at your friendly, local Target. What I’m thinking of exists only after years of storytelling and tradition passed on from generation to generation of BU alumni. What I’m thinking of would be sweeter than candy canes or gum drops or, dare I say, lemon squares.
I’m talking about a legend. There’s nothing like a good legend, is there? Except maybe a lemon square. If Boston University had its own legend, it would create a mystique about the school that would complement its prestige. The question is: What should the legend be?
Well, look no further fellow students. It just so happened that I’ve found the perfect place to build into a legend and turn this university into the mythological fairy tale land we all dream for it to be.
While on a run through the pleasant streets of Brookline, I stumbled upon a little gem in a residential neighborhood with the mark of our university on it. What I saw before me was a luxurious looking house with a stone wall and gate in front of it. On the wall was a Boston University plaque that read, “Sloan House.”
I was confused. Not so much confused as perplexed. Not so much perplexed as befuddled. Not so much befuddled as stupefied. Not so much stupefied as confused. It was a vicious cycle.
Here was this house, basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by houses filled with families playing Life and old couples cutting baked bean coupons out of the newspaper fliers, and for some reason, Boston University had its mark on this random building. And that, my friends, is where legends are made.
Before I go any further, I want it to be known that I tried giving truth a chance in this situation. Unfortunately, a Google search turned up nothing pertinent so it’s all up for grabs according to the Constitution. Want to prove me wrong? Read the entire thing. It’s in there.
That’s what I thought.
First we need to create background information about the history of the house leading up to the momentous event that caused it to be so legendary:
Sloan House was built in the late 8th century by Moorish invaders who needed to set up a radio tower so they could stay in contact with troops in the Far East. It wasn’t until the turn of the 18th century that Tippecanoe and Tyler, also claimed Sloan House in the name of the United States. During the Civil War, a critical battle was fought at the gates and victory was near for the Confederates until Chuck Norris came out the front door with a scolding hot pot of coffee and tossed it in the faces of all the Southern soldiers. Finally, BU President William Seward purchased Sloan House from a Caribbean gang of pickpockets in 1932 and it’s been in our possession ever since.
(Note: If any history majors could be so kind as to check my historical accuracy, I would be much obliged.)
We have some history, but we still need the story that makes Sloan House legendary:
There was a time (we’ll call it “the Sixties”) when college students weren’t as well behaved as they are today. Some even indulged in alcoholic beverages. It was a crazy world. One night, on the eve of the all-important holiday Grandparent’s Day, a group of students drunkenly stumbled to the front door of Sloan House and knocked five times. When nobody came to the door, witnesses say the young men went around the house to find another way inside. That was the last anyone ever saw of them. A sweep of the house a few days later turned up nothing more than a can of tuna fish (Chicken of the Sea) and a tube sock (blue stripes).
Finally, the legacy to complete our legend:
Now every year when Grandparent’s Day nears, a throng of BU students gathers across the street from Sloan House with six freshmen wrapped in aluminum foil. The six freshmen are thrown over the stone wall into the yard and left until the morning. If the freshmen are gone the next day, there will be a bad crop of corn during the harvest. If all six are still there in the morning, a Boston College hockey player will come down with West Nile Virus.
So there’s Boston University’s very own legend. You can thank me later for coming up with one for us. First, it’s up to all of you to spread the word to help make this story the monster it needs to be. Always remember this bit of advice: “Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. Follow your heart, kid, and you’ll never go wrong.”
San-lot! San-lot! San-lot!