"I held the elevator in Claverly Hall for an old man one day during my sophomore year. We were both headed for the fifth floor, though we didn't converse on the way up. But as I pulled out the key to my room, he raised his fist to knock - and this is how I met the man who occupied my room fifty years ago. And as this man paced my common room and described how the floors actually used to be level fifty years ago, how he and his roommates had strategically placed their desks facing opposite walls so they wouldn’t distract each other as they studied, how he had snuck his now-wife-of-fifty-four-years in through the back door because opposite genders hadn’t been allowed in the same room then, I saw what it meant to come home to Harvard."