by Thomas M. Pender
College – or, as I’m apt to refer to it, “The Limbo of Life” – was a wonderful and magical sphere of being, where you get to be an adult, but you get to be a kid again, too! While you are working to better yourself, it’s also the first time you get to be on your own (assuming you go away to school, as I did) to really find out who you are. It’s also a great place to meet all kinds of people, and learn what kinds of friends you really wish to have!
To no one’s shock, my chosen friends were all loons.
My freshman year, while being incredibly challenging and lesson-teaching (mostly the outside-the-classroom-lessons-of-Life kind), was made up of nine straight months of laughter and adventure, centered around a goofy crew of a few close-knit men who made the most – and the most fun – of any and every situation.
Dating rituals, for example. While I have no doubt that those I met and chose as friends were polite gentlemen on their dates (although they’d never admit it back then, whilst trying to maintain their coolness), in our women-free zone of male bonding time, we had great fun discussing upcoming dates, successful dates, women of interest and certainly attractive complete strangers who passed our way. One ritual that just kind of “happened” was the sword brandishing.
On a random day when one of us in the group was discussing an upcoming date, a successful date or a woman of interest, someone . . . most likely Terry “Trigger” Thompson . . . pulled an invisible sword from an invisible sheath attached to his invisible belt, made the sound of a sword being drawn, held it invisibly aloft and made a sort of pirate-y cry of triumph.
Those of us in attendance proceeded to immediately bust our collective guts, love the action, and mimic the action. A tradition was born.
After that, whenever one of us had an upcoming date, a successful date or had met a woman of interest to talk about, however many of us in attendance would immediately draw our invisible swords (complete with sound effects, of course!), invisibly clang them together, and re-insert them.
Silly? Yes. Immature? Granted. Fun and memorable boy fun? Yar!
As is the case with everything that went on during that incredible year, the tradition has faded as friends have gone their ways. Still, I know for a fact that the men these kids have become have a silly and raucous side to them, hidden beneath their business neckties and barbecuing aprons. Should two or more of us meet up, and one have a piece of good news to share, I have no doubt that those in attendance will find that the swords of triumph, first wielded in the dormitories of Michigan State, are still firmly affixed.
Huzzah!
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