AN ENORMOUS book sits on a shelf near my Rutgers-Camden diploma, just a few steps from the closet where my old black-and-red Rutgers wrestling singlet lies stuffed inside a duffel bag.
One of my semesters there was spent studying Milton's Paradise Lost, lugging that book around like a slab of granite. I never really gave Milton a chance and never won a wrestling match there, but eventually I forged a love for words and language in those Camden classrooms.
Yesterday hundreds of students, faculty and alums gathered inside the Walter K. Gordon Theater, most dressed in Rutgers scarlet, all concerned that their small campus, their paradise near the Ben Franklin Bridge, was being threatened by Gov. Christie and by South Jersey power broker George E. Norcross III.