After my last exam, I took my usual walk home down Commonwealth Avenue, past Boston College’s main campus toward the quiet rows of Evergreen Cemetery. Winter had settled in, that strange season in Boston when night seems to arrive by three in the afternoon. The air had turned sharp, the kind of cold that still surprises a Floridian like myself, no matter how many winters I spend here. Out of the corner of my eye, a tall stone building caught the light of the moon and stood illuminated in the distance. I recognized it as Boston College’s McMullen Museum.