If the church with its baptism and ordination rites failed to initiate me, the university did not. My alma maters caught and cradled me when the bough of fundamentalism broke. They relieved me of the burdens of clerical faith and suckled me with the sweet milk of truth. They enabled me to trade declaration for query and the interpretation of texts for the recitation of creeds. Baptized by exam and ordained by degree into its fold, my life cycles to the rhythm of the academic year. Outfitted with gold-tassled cap and emblazoned gown, I am a guardian of the thresholds of academe. I cling to its ivory towers with tenure. So decisively am I married to it, that it can divorce me only for incompetence or moral turpitude.