It's Greek To Me

Over the weekend I visited The Frat. The one I belonged to when I was an undergraduate at the University of Toronto. I never thought I would ever be considered frat material. To me, the quintessential frat member had Hollywood looks, was captain of the football team, and his girlfriend was the head cheerleader. In school I was clumsy at any and all athletics, only average-looking and extremely shy with the opposite sex. Nevertheless, I was "rushed" by my classmate John, accepted by the guys and endured an "initiation" during which I pretty much had to check my pride at the door.

The frat experience was mostly a positive one. I rose in ranks on the executive and served as chapter president in my final school year. I overcame my fear of speaking in public. But as the years went by, I felt it was time to put away the interests from my past and move on. Life in a student frat chapter has always been, and still is, based on partying until sun-up and chasing skirts.
Still, I felt compelled to accept an email invitation and meet the new members who had just been "initiated." There has been a renewal of interest in the frat recently. The house has been spruced up with an influx of donations of time and dollars from alumni. The student chapter has a good number of members who all seem quite keen. The new members are very nice, polite and intelligent. But they're so YOUNG looking. Either they keep getting younger or I'm getting older with every passing year. I'd like to think it's the former.

The Frat circa 1971. I am in the front row third from the right (wearing glasses).

John, the classmate who brough me in, is in the middle row 3rd from the left.