Loyal Brothers We

My dear friend Kat sent me an invite to an application on Facebook for Alpha Phi Omega. Of course I added it. As I browsed through the application, I got all nostalgic. Nostalgia seems to be a theme for me these days.

It's hard to believe that it was nearly 10 years ago that I stumbled upon that humble table set up in the campus center. I was a freshman coming to the end of my first semester and feeling rather underwhelmed with the whole campus experience. Where were the parties? Where were the guys? Where was the beer, damn it? I had barely ventured past my own dorm hallway and I knew there was more to college than this!

So I signed up for this co-ed service fraternity. I went to a meeting that following Sunday at Amigos. A few weeks later, I was spilling my 18 year old guts to a bunch of stranger-friends at a campout at Camp Luther. Steck and Palisch put dish soap and coffee grounds in my hair while I slept. I had been initiated. I was a Brother.

Soon I was promoted to Secretary, then to Membership Vice President. I belonged to something. It was a wonderful feeling.

Leadership. Fellowship. Service. It seems like a lifetime ago, yet it also seems that no time has passed at all. I can't remember my family tree of Littles beyond Kim and Lisa. I can't remember all the words to the last verse of the Toast Song (I just tried to sing it in my head!). I can't remember who the founding president was. What I do remember is the hours of meetings in the smoking room at Cafe Latte. I do remember the "unofficial events" at Sarah and Cindy's house. I remember moving the crosses at Camp Luther, driving to Oklahoma City with Kim, Cara and Matt in his Chrysler Le Baron and laughing hysterically (why?) at a sign that said "Froz Yog." I remember the battles we went through to become an official Chapter. I remember that it was us against the world...or at least the school. Was there a world outside of Concordia? Yes, there was...and it was called "The Well."

I miss it all now. I miss wandering up to the Dorcas Stoop. I miss covering the campus sidewalks with chalk to advertise during recruitment week. I miss the meetings, the late nights, the sense of purpose. The camaraderie.

I miss the people. I miss my Brothers.

Sure, we drove each other mad at times. It seemed like at least once a week, one of us had some degree of a mental meltdown. I was usually the one having the meltdown. We had ridiculous fights. We had not so ridiculous fights. We loved, we loathed, we laughed. They say that the mind doesn't remember pain. I would have to agree, for the most part. What I remember is good. Why focus on the bad?

Five years ago, I graduated from college. On that last day, I sat at the Well with my pitcher of Amberbock and my acquired family of Brother-friends for the last time. We laughed, we cried, we wished each other well. We hugged and danced along to "You Never Even Called Me By My Name" by David Allan Coe and "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, just as we had hundreds of times before.

And then it was all over. We've scattered all over the country and the planet. I'm fairly confident that every time one of us finds another on Facebook or Myspace, we experience the same little "WooHoo!" moment, even after all these years.

Sometimes, this little country at the bottom of the South Pacific just seems too damn far away.

Invaded

It was a good weekend.

On Friday night, I went to see Bob's band play a gig. It was his first gig since he hurt his knee in January and then had surgery in May. We were both excited for him to play again. I had a fantastic time cheering him on and singing along to the songs. I love watching Bob play his drums.

Then on Saturday, I met up with Katie and Sarah for a girl's night in the city. Katie had arranged for us to stay at her hotel and eat dinner at the hotel restaurant on staff rates...a bargain night at only $60 each! Plus, we went shopping and I scored 3-yes, 3!-pairs of shoes for the grand total of $27!!!! Rock! I love bargains! After dinner, we went back up to the hotel room and spent the evening reminiscing about our lives before boyfriends. Entertainingly enough, I had some of the best stories. I don't know what that says about me...

This morning, we checked out of the hotel and went to lunch. Somehow we got on the topic of having things stolen from us and we all told tales of people breaking into our cars.

Sarah dropped me off at home. I juggled my shopping bags as I walked in through the already open front door. Matt was working on Linda's car out front in the driveway. Lucy, Linda's dog, was playing with a stick. Bob and Isaac were out on the back porch. I put down my bags, showed off my new shoes to the boys who genuinely pretended to give a toss about them, and put the jug on for a cup of tea.

I got my cook books and sat on the couch, ready to make up a menu and shopping list for the week. Bob was playing Battlefield on his computer. Matt and Linda were outside working on the car. Isaac was here, there and everywhere in the house, as usual.

Then I hear Isaac shout. "No man. No."

"My laptop is gone!"

No. He must have put it somewhere. It couldn't have disappeared into nowhere.

Could it?

We looked all over his room. He had used it a few hours earlier and left it on his bedside table.

The power cord was still there.

We were all home.

Someone walked into our house, stole his computer, and walked out.

And we were all at home.

We promptly called the police and reported a robbery. Robbery!

WE WERE ALL AT HOME WHEN THIS HAPPENED.

We went to the neighbor's in the house behind us and asked them if they had seen anything strange. They said that about an hour ago, they saw a young man walk down our driveway and over to our house. A few minutes later, he walked from our house to theirs, knocked on the door, and asked for money for a Polynesian charity fun walk. He had a satchel type bag.

We never saw this man.

Bob and Isaac went for a drive around our neighborhood and asked people if they saw anything similar. Nearly everyone said they had been approached by a man of the same description asking for money for a Polynesian charity fun walk.

Is anything safe anymore?

Ode To Central Heating (or Lack Thereof): A Haiku

Phalanges are numb
Summer's six long months away
Furnace, I miss you!