I hated the politics and the injustices, like gutting our student government to create a five-member handpicked squad of "candidates," one of whom would get to be "president" of our "service" organization, while the other four got to be vice-presidents.

I was there when the September Six got excommunicated and felt the chill that whipped through Happy Valley.

I didn't like how certain people, because of their association with high-ranking LDS leaders, were untouchable while others were nobodies.

But these were family feuds over ideals and the gap between them and practice.

My experience at BYU was largely wonderful.  I got a great education at the fraction of its worth.  Many of the Latter-day Saints I went to school with were great people, neither the ward nutjob nor the stake Nephi.  They were "normal" people who lived extraordinary lives, humbly trying to get somewhere with their lives, caught in that weird sandwich between a cynical, dirty world and the crazies who think it their destiny to rule over the rest of us.

I learned to ski at BYU.  I learned Latin, Hebrew and Greek.  I picked up dual degrees and married a fine woman.  We lived on nothing and enjoyed great happiness all the same.

BYU was good to us.