After waking up feeling a little bit groggy and a lot dehydrated, I quickly showered and dressed before either of my compatriots could arise. Then it was off to the Alumni choir rehearsal, which was actually being held at the same time as a classic car show was being held in the parking lot. The alumni "choir" turned out to be about 10 alumni and about 100 Hillsdale choir students. After catching up with Jim Holleman, the director, I entered the room feeling just as itimidated as I did when I entered the room as a student. I don't consider myself a singer, or a musical person, really, and it's hard to shake the feeling that everyone in the room is not only a better singer than I am, but that the person sitting next to me (whoever that person is) is probably a singer on par with Pavoratti or Kelly Clarkston. Thankfully, smoking the one cigarette last night had left me hoarser than the Simpson house mother, and so I had no problem singing bass.
After the choir rehearsal, I felt a bit at loose ends, until I realized that I was supposed to meet my wife and daughter 10 minutes earlier at Central Hall. I dashed from the music building (I always forget its new name) to Central Hall, only to discover that the quad was deserted--it seemed as though they were running late.
Next time: A Day at the Game continued and further thoughts
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Five seconds of Fury . . . continued
After arriving at the de-facto Phi Mu Alpha house (not the renegade Mu Alpha house--I can't emphasize that enough), things settled down considerably. The remaining folks that were up--Jacob, me, Tony, J, Jason, and Carl--made for a pretty quiet bunch, sitting around playing on Jacob's ukelele and guitar, talking, and basically enjoying each other's company. Then, the unthinkable happened.
For a reason that defies my memory to this day, one of the members of our little group took offense at something another member of the group said, did--something. I wasn't privy to everything that happened before hand, but the results of this person's five seconds of fury were a veritable explosion of Coca-Cola all over our guests' couch, other people's pants, and naturally, the floor as well. Though apologies were quickly uttered, and the incident never progressed beyond the "pouring drinks on one another" stage, it still sits uneasily in my memory, like a fat man on a unicycle.
The incident drained what little spirit was left out of our little band, and we retired to a cold night and a warm bed in Simpson. Actually, it was more like a warm air mattress for me.
Next: A Day at the Game and Further Thoughts
For a reason that defies my memory to this day, one of the members of our little group took offense at something another member of the group said, did--something. I wasn't privy to everything that happened before hand, but the results of this person's five seconds of fury were a veritable explosion of Coca-Cola all over our guests' couch, other people's pants, and naturally, the floor as well. Though apologies were quickly uttered, and the incident never progressed beyond the "pouring drinks on one another" stage, it still sits uneasily in my memory, like a fat man on a unicycle.
The incident drained what little spirit was left out of our little band, and we retired to a cold night and a warm bed in Simpson. Actually, it was more like a warm air mattress for me.
Next: A Day at the Game and Further Thoughts
Monday, January 29, 2007
Five seconds of fury
After thouroughly saturating our clothes with the delightful smell of woodsmoke, Lucas, Tony and I returned to our apartment in Simpson, a squat, concrete block structure built sometime in the mid-1950s. Tony and I felt right at home in Simpson, and Lucas quickly made himself at home, declaring that he was "done" for the night. He promptly got ready and went to bed--a wise move on his part, but one that left Tony and me at loose ends.
We eventually decided to try to find the Phi Mu Alpha (NOT the squatters Mu Alpha house, frickin' renegades) house and see what we could see. Here I have to digress down memory lane a bit. On one of my first nights at Hillsdale college, as a wide-eyed freshman, I remember wandering the streets of Hillsdale late at night, trying to find a means to extend my evening with seven or eight guys I hardly knew, several of which were falling down drunk. One of the strongest impressions of that night for me was the curious sense of bootless freedom that pervaded the air, as if anything and everything could happen on a fall night like this one.
Fast forward seven years, where Tony and I were in the same state, minus the inebriation, natch, but wandering the streets of Hillsdale looking to see what the town had to offer us. Unfortunately for us, and for you, my readers, we didn't find anything exciting, or even very interesting. After drifiting vaguely south, we located the house with little difficulty, entered, and were shown around by an extremely polite young man, one of the new Phi Mu Alpha brothers whose name escapes me.
And, since I'm at the limit of time, this "five seconds of fury" will have to be continued tomorrow!
Next: Five Seconds of Fury . . . Continued and A Day at the Game
We eventually decided to try to find the Phi Mu Alpha (NOT the squatters Mu Alpha house, frickin' renegades) house and see what we could see. Here I have to digress down memory lane a bit. On one of my first nights at Hillsdale college, as a wide-eyed freshman, I remember wandering the streets of Hillsdale late at night, trying to find a means to extend my evening with seven or eight guys I hardly knew, several of which were falling down drunk. One of the strongest impressions of that night for me was the curious sense of bootless freedom that pervaded the air, as if anything and everything could happen on a fall night like this one.
Fast forward seven years, where Tony and I were in the same state, minus the inebriation, natch, but wandering the streets of Hillsdale looking to see what the town had to offer us. Unfortunately for us, and for you, my readers, we didn't find anything exciting, or even very interesting. After drifiting vaguely south, we located the house with little difficulty, entered, and were shown around by an extremely polite young man, one of the new Phi Mu Alpha brothers whose name escapes me.
And, since I'm at the limit of time, this "five seconds of fury" will have to be continued tomorrow!
Next: Five Seconds of Fury . . . Continued and A Day at the Game
Friday, January 26, 2007
A Ten-Foot Tall Fire
Apologies for the lateness of this post . . .
After dropping off our baggage at Simpson, with Lucas claiming the bed furthest from the door and me claiming the floor, we headed over to Whitley to pick up the rest of our entourage, only to be faced with the new house mother of Whitley, one Judith S., and her rapidly shrinking patience with her son, the Hon. J. We sorted out the fracas, and were greeted upon our exit with a vision--fireworks that were visible over the top of the Sage Center for the Arts. Hillsdale had certainly changed in the time I had been gone--they had never, ever had the wherewithal to launch fireworks before, not even when Arrrrrrn became pres. Surf and Turf in a giant tent on the quad, yes, but fireworks, no.
Instead of trying to get over to the field and see the 'works, we simply watched them from the lawn, then headed over when they were complete. What greeted us was a scene of well-organized chaos, with a crowd of folks who seemed like little children milling around a blaze that reached far up into the heavens. I could tell that I was getting old--the whole thing seemed loud and hot to me, rather than exciting and intimidating. After milling through the crowd several times, J and I managed to locate a cotton candy vendor, a young man who seemed more interested in chatting up the ladies at the popcorn next to us than getting us our free pink stuff.
After handing me a small stick, he turned once again to the popcorn ladies, putting the empty stick in his mouth in an attempt, no doubt, to look "cool." When J asked him for some cotton candy of his own, the young man took the stick out of his mouth , ran it around the inside of the machine several times, and handed it to J , never once stopping to look at us, acknowledge us--indeed, to even think about what he was doing.
J and I loooked at each other. "I can't believe I just saw that," I said. "Me either," said J , delicately taking a bite out of his candy. "I'll just eat the outside of this," J continued.
Re-rendesvouing with the group, Jacob decided that he wanted to sumo wrestle one of us. Always up to the challenge, I stepped into the dewey circle, only to be unceremoniously dumped on my kiester for the first fall. Must be that Samoan blood in Jacob--he was a deceptively strong wrestler! In the interests of full disclosure, I managed to take him down once or twice at the end, when he was tired--always a good strategy.
The party ended when the fire attendants began blasting the blaze with water, resulting in a pillar of smoke that would do the LORD proud. Tony finished up his interview with the Collegian, and we all headed back to our respective places, wondering what would happen next. Little did we realize the fury that awaited us. . .
Next: Five Seconds of Fury and A Day at the Game
After dropping off our baggage at Simpson, with Lucas claiming the bed furthest from the door and me claiming the floor, we headed over to Whitley to pick up the rest of our entourage, only to be faced with the new house mother of Whitley, one Judith S., and her rapidly shrinking patience with her son, the Hon. J. We sorted out the fracas, and were greeted upon our exit with a vision--fireworks that were visible over the top of the Sage Center for the Arts. Hillsdale had certainly changed in the time I had been gone--they had never, ever had the wherewithal to launch fireworks before, not even when Arrrrrrn became pres. Surf and Turf in a giant tent on the quad, yes, but fireworks, no.
Instead of trying to get over to the field and see the 'works, we simply watched them from the lawn, then headed over when they were complete. What greeted us was a scene of well-organized chaos, with a crowd of folks who seemed like little children milling around a blaze that reached far up into the heavens. I could tell that I was getting old--the whole thing seemed loud and hot to me, rather than exciting and intimidating. After milling through the crowd several times, J and I managed to locate a cotton candy vendor, a young man who seemed more interested in chatting up the ladies at the popcorn next to us than getting us our free pink stuff.
After handing me a small stick, he turned once again to the popcorn ladies, putting the empty stick in his mouth in an attempt, no doubt, to look "cool." When J asked him for some cotton candy of his own, the young man took the stick out of his mouth , ran it around the inside of the machine several times, and handed it to J , never once stopping to look at us, acknowledge us--indeed, to even think about what he was doing.
J and I loooked at each other. "I can't believe I just saw that," I said. "Me either," said J , delicately taking a bite out of his candy. "I'll just eat the outside of this," J continued.
Re-rendesvouing with the group, Jacob decided that he wanted to sumo wrestle one of us. Always up to the challenge, I stepped into the dewey circle, only to be unceremoniously dumped on my kiester for the first fall. Must be that Samoan blood in Jacob--he was a deceptively strong wrestler! In the interests of full disclosure, I managed to take him down once or twice at the end, when he was tired--always a good strategy.
The party ended when the fire attendants began blasting the blaze with water, resulting in a pillar of smoke that would do the LORD proud. Tony finished up his interview with the Collegian, and we all headed back to our respective places, wondering what would happen next. Little did we realize the fury that awaited us. . .
Next: Five Seconds of Fury and A Day at the Game
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Rolled Cigarettes
After a satisfying meal, and a couple of even more satisfying games of pool, slight confusion ensued as to what would be happening next. Things get a little fuzzy for me at this point--we ended up heading over to the local market in order to get refreshments for our night on the town, but Lucas, Kim and many of the other folks from the Hunt Club headed somewhere else, leaving me, Tony, J and Allie to pick through the offerings at Broad Street Market.
Feeling curiously overdressed in the market, I settled for a SoBe and a small bottle of Bicardi, as well as 2-liter of Coke (a decision that would later prove disatarous for Tony) and the others got their beverages of choice. The SoBe was a classic choice, recommended by J --I had to wipe a tear of nostalgia from my eye as we paid for our purchases. Oh, and after I expressed to Tony the fact that I had never seen a rolled cigarette before, he immediately picked up a pack of what looked like chewing tobacco and some papers. Of course, we both didn't think to pick up any filters, the end result of which when I woke the next morning, I ended up sounding like a scratchier, hoarser version of James Earl Jones--perfect for singing bass in the alumni choir the next day. Yikes.
Thus fortified, we headed over to Niedfelt and Simpson to continue our journey back in time, and to see if Lucas would be joining us on our "fogies night out."
Next time: A Ten-Foot Tall Bonfire and Five Seconds . . . of Fury
Feeling curiously overdressed in the market, I settled for a SoBe and a small bottle of Bicardi, as well as 2-liter of Coke (a decision that would later prove disatarous for Tony) and the others got their beverages of choice. The SoBe was a classic choice, recommended by J --I had to wipe a tear of nostalgia from my eye as we paid for our purchases. Oh, and after I expressed to Tony the fact that I had never seen a rolled cigarette before, he immediately picked up a pack of what looked like chewing tobacco and some papers. Of course, we both didn't think to pick up any filters, the end result of which when I woke the next morning, I ended up sounding like a scratchier, hoarser version of James Earl Jones--perfect for singing bass in the alumni choir the next day. Yikes.
Thus fortified, we headed over to Niedfelt and Simpson to continue our journey back in time, and to see if Lucas would be joining us on our "fogies night out."
Next time: A Ten-Foot Tall Bonfire and Five Seconds . . . of Fury
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Hunt Club Memories
After a short journey through the rolling fields of Angola ("I promise guys, this way is faster than going through Coldwater!"), we arrived at downtown Hillsdale, ready to tuck in and enjoy a nice meal with other alums at the Hunt Club, a lcoal bar and grill. Actually, I've probably seen at least six or seven other Hunt Clubs since my time at Hillsdale (no affiliation with the Hillsdale one, by the way), and every time, I want to go into it and see if they have a giant stuffed fox over the bar and a sandwich called "The Dagwood."
Our little soiree turned out to be quite an affair. Lucas had managed to secure the entire upstairs of the little bar and grill for Hillsdale alumni, setting up two long tables facing the windows which looked out over the city square. Presiding at one of the tables was none other than the Reverend Dr. Reist, a character if I've ever met one and someone whom I wish had a blog of his own, even if it would primarily consist of weird quacks, photos of the various weddings he's attended/presided at, and serious discussion on the merits of Catholic theology and the evils of Catholic priestly celibacy. But I digress . . .
Fantastic as it was to see the good Doctor, because of our late arrival, Jacob, Tony and I were placed at the foot of the table in our own little corner. Various other Hillsdale alumni were there--if you want names and faces, you'll have to visit my good friend Lucas' blog. After ordering a pitcher of beer or two, our little group turned quite merry, eventually ending up with Tony, J, Jacob, and I playing pool while Lucas tried hard to stay awake and keep his supper down. The man did not look well, and he blamed it all on no sleep and a spotty cappucino. (Sorry for the bad spelling, but hey, I've only got five minutes to do this thing).
Next time: Rolled Cigarettes and a Ten-Foot Tall Bonfire
Our little soiree turned out to be quite an affair. Lucas had managed to secure the entire upstairs of the little bar and grill for Hillsdale alumni, setting up two long tables facing the windows which looked out over the city square. Presiding at one of the tables was none other than the Reverend Dr. Reist, a character if I've ever met one and someone whom I wish had a blog of his own, even if it would primarily consist of weird quacks, photos of the various weddings he's attended/presided at, and serious discussion on the merits of Catholic theology and the evils of Catholic priestly celibacy. But I digress . . .
Fantastic as it was to see the good Doctor, because of our late arrival, Jacob, Tony and I were placed at the foot of the table in our own little corner. Various other Hillsdale alumni were there--if you want names and faces, you'll have to visit my good friend Lucas' blog. After ordering a pitcher of beer or two, our little group turned quite merry, eventually ending up with Tony, J, Jacob, and I playing pool while Lucas tried hard to stay awake and keep his supper down. The man did not look well, and he blamed it all on no sleep and a spotty cappucino. (Sorry for the bad spelling, but hey, I've only got five minutes to do this thing).
Next time: Rolled Cigarettes and a Ten-Foot Tall Bonfire
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Five minutes of fame
Ok, I've promised myself I'll spend five minutes a day updating this little blog, and see where it gets me. The clock is ticking . . .
Hope you like the new look. I've had to upgrade to keep up with the "Tonys" and "Lucases" of the world. If you don't like it, drop me a comment or something and I'll get busy ignoring you right away! Seriously though, if you see something egregious on this site (besides the delay in posting!) let me know and I'll try to make it better.
Ok, when I left you last year, I was promising an update about the Homecoming experience, version 2006. Well, after I eagerly packed up all of the stuff I would need for Homecoming (read: an extra shirt and pants, because you never know what Tony's going to borrow), I waited on the front porch to see which of my friends would be picking me up to cart me up to Hillsdale. Lo and behold, a battered little car with Massachusetts plates pulled up, carrying not one, not two, but three very good friends from college--albeit one of them was laying down in the back seat so I couldn't see him.
Yep, J, Tony and Jacob had arrived. After a quick tour of our house (still new to us, at that point), and after Tony made instant friends with my daughter by making weird faces at her and being really loud (little girls love Tony--insert your own joke here), we were off on a funky adventure, one that promised to be interesting, at worst, and downright criminal, at best.
Of course, as the people in the car had collectively already driven for the equivalent of at least 24 hours straight, I drove.
Next time: Hunt Club Memories and Rolled Cigarettes
Hope you like the new look. I've had to upgrade to keep up with the "Tonys" and "Lucases" of the world. If you don't like it, drop me a comment or something and I'll get busy ignoring you right away! Seriously though, if you see something egregious on this site (besides the delay in posting!) let me know and I'll try to make it better.
Ok, when I left you last year, I was promising an update about the Homecoming experience, version 2006. Well, after I eagerly packed up all of the stuff I would need for Homecoming (read: an extra shirt and pants, because you never know what Tony's going to borrow), I waited on the front porch to see which of my friends would be picking me up to cart me up to Hillsdale. Lo and behold, a battered little car with Massachusetts plates pulled up, carrying not one, not two, but three very good friends from college--albeit one of them was laying down in the back seat so I couldn't see him.
Yep, J, Tony and Jacob had arrived. After a quick tour of our house (still new to us, at that point), and after Tony made instant friends with my daughter by making weird faces at her and being really loud (little girls love Tony--insert your own joke here), we were off on a funky adventure, one that promised to be interesting, at worst, and downright criminal, at best.
Of course, as the people in the car had collectively already driven for the equivalent of at least 24 hours straight, I drove.
Next time: Hunt Club Memories and Rolled Cigarettes
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