Right around a decade ago, a group of rag tag young fellows from all across the Midwest converged on a rickety old dwelling in the heart of Lawrence, Kansas. They arrived with cars filled with clothes, crappy hand-me-down furniture, and more than their fair share of posters featuring scantily clad women and/or beer puns. Beyond these physical possessions, they also brought along with them a sense of nervous wonder. Some of these gents had met each other prior to this fateful day, but for many of them, this would be their initial encounter with one another. “What will these other guys be like? Are they going to think I’m cool? Did I bring too many cargo shorts?” These questions and more had them more terrified than a teenage boy fearing his “hormones” might make an appearance during his first slow dance with a girl.
After everyone unloaded all their belongings and said goodbye to their parents, they all shuffled into the dining room so they could get to know one another. They sat in a circle and each young man introduced himself, said where he was from, and lied about how cool he was in high school. After an hour or so of chit chat and grab ass icebreaker games, the slightly-less-young man in charge told us all to take a good look at one another. “For the next four years and beyond, these guys will be your best friends.” Each one of the young men did as they were told and looked around at the mix of different faces that filled the room and thought to himself, “God, I hope not.”
Of course, I’m talking about a certain pledge class of a certain fraternity at a certain university in Kansas. For legal purposes, I cannot disclose the name of said fraternity (just know that I was in it, so it probably wasn’t all that exclusive). But I will disclose one truth. By golly, that slightly-less-young man in charge was absolutely right. Over the course of those four years (or more) of college, our class (and others) bonded like we were brothers. Really terrible and idiotic – but loyal – brothers.
We fought. We made up. We partied. We studied. We laughed. We cried. We succeeded. We failed. We tried to talk to girls. Girls didn’t try to talk to us. And anything and everything in between.
After college, each of us took his own path as adults are unfortunately supposed to do. We’ve worked jobs in a variety of industries, we’ve moved to new exciting places, some of us tricked girls into marrying us. Hell, one of us even flaked out and decided he wanted to become a writer…
But here we are, ten years later, converging on a new location to celebrate the end of bachelorhood for one of our own. (Personally, I don’t know what the bride-to-be sees in him). The point is that even though we’ve all gone on to live our lives as individuals, we always find a way to unite as brothers a few times a year and fuel that flame of friendship. We’ve built lasting relationships with one another that have transcended time and distance. Whenever we are fortunate enough to get together, it’s as if nothing’s changed. We are still those young dumb kids enjoying the goofy adventures in which we find ourselves. I hope that never changes.
However, reliving those ol’ glory days are getting harder and harder to recover from since all of us our now in our late twenties. In fact, this may also serve as my last will and testament in case those glory days get the best of me. In that case: Mom, make sure dad doesn’t throw away all my stuff. I would like to split my life savings ($14.87) amongst my niece and nephews. Get yourselves something really nice! Lastly, and I can’t stress this enough, Dad, please delete my Internet search history.
Here’s to another decade!
*Glasses clink