In the sometimes difficult (and oftentimes, frustrating) business of living the collegiate life, I can easily let stress get the better of me. I can begin to blow things out of proportion, so that my mid-terms turn into life-or-death gladiatorial games or the fact that I need to go to Walmart becomes a daunting journey into the deepest, darkest jungle. Yet, every day, right as I step off the bus in front of the Union, I am reminded that my problems-- no matter how awful they may seem-- are not as bad as the fate that this poor lady must endure forever.
She sits majestically atop her fountain, which someone engineered and designed so that the main water feature blasts her right in the--well, you can see. I don't know whose idea it was to make the fountain do this, but I think its hilarious; I can hardly walk by without at least grinning a little bit. One day, my curiosity drove me to read the hefty copper sign that lay in one of the flower beds surrounding this lady's domain. I discovered that, originally, this fountain (which was designed by a Swede named Carl Milles) stood in downtown Chicago at 540 N. Michigan Ave, and was given to the school as a gift presented by Time Inc. on behalf of the class of 1921. The unfortunate woman at its top is none other than the Roman goddess of the hunt, Diana (Greek: Artemis). This would explain the bronze animals that adorn the other tiers of the fountain, as well as account for the bow (that looks suspiciously like a stick) in her left hand. As for the reason why she must be subjected to a perpetual heavy crotch-dousing, I can't definitively say. However, I can say that, as well as being goddess of the hunt, Diana represented chastity, and, in myth, remained a virgin for all eternity.
Oh, you funny little Swedes.
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