Men of the Skull Interlude XI: Fingernails

 Second to last of the interludes for Men of the Skull.  This one is about Linda Lewis.

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Interlude XI: Fingernails

Saturday December 28, 2013  Judge Upholds N.S.A.’s Bulk Collection of Data on Calls

Well, I guess it should start back when I found out about her.  My femme side resurfaced in 2008- that is true- but I knew about trans sites before that.  Around 2001, I was doing an internet search for fiction sites so I could post my work, and Fictionmania came up: a transgender story site.  I remember starting to read a story there and I was hooked.  I couldn't believe that there was a site that had stories such as these- stories that spoke to something that I had long buried.  From there, I started looking up other transgender sites, and very quickly after I found Linda.

Linda ran a website at the time, with pictures and her interviews from various magazines like Ladylike and such.  She also has a Flickr page, where she has thousands of fans. She was amazing, gorgeous, and untouchable: an Icon.  And she still is.

Heck she even appeared in ads!  When I re-awakened in 2008, I started looking for things that would improve my figure etc.  One of the places I found made scientifically designed hip pads for Trans people.   A new one had just come out and there, on the ad, was Linda- sitting on a stool in a red dress looking absolutely stunning.  Later in my search, I found a site that sold breast prosthetics, and there she was again- modeling the breast prosthetics.  I was like "this woman is everywhere!" and again I thought she was some kind of Royalty.  In addition, she did transformation makeup in Hollywood at Jim Bridges’ salon near a place called the Queen Mary.

In 2009, that I sent Linda a Flickr message, asking her about the breast and hip prosthetics.  She kindly responded, and I felt I'd been touched by the hand of God. 

Years later, Linda posted something on social media.  I forget exactly what it was, but she seemed very down.  She had a health scare of some kind, which I later found out was a collapsed lung.  She needed financial help, so I sent what I could.  It was then that she and I started chatting online.  I found out that we had a lot of movies and music in common.  A tenuous friendship began.

I decided that I was going to go to the Southern Comfort Conference.  A few of us wanted to help Linda attend as well.  Now this is saying something because Linda is a very proud person and doesn't like asking for help.  We figured out a way to get her a hotel room- she would room with a friend I knew, and between us we paid for her transportation.  I didn't realize when this started that by the time Southern Comfort came around, my life would have completely turned upside down.

At a mall in Atlanta, SCC 2013

And it was there I met Linda, and we became friends… when I wasn’t making her angry.

A couple months later, she was supposed to move down to Florida.  The details there are personal, I’ll skip them.  However, she was delayed- she couldn't move down to Florida, but her lease was up in Michigan.  She had nowhere to go.  I asked my dear friend M, with whom I was staying, if she could put Linda up for a couple weeks.  She readily agreed, because she is the kind of person who Helps.  So it was that in late December 2013, I met Linda in her drab mode at State College, Pennsylvania, where we had agreed to meet. (Only a week before, I was headed this way during a snowstorm to blow my head off, but I turned around.)  It was a rainy, snowy, messy day, and she followed me from there back to the house where we would both stay for another six months.  I lived on the second floor, while she lived in the basement, but it was during that time that I got to know the woman behind the Legend. 

Tuesday, December 31, 2013.  Bomb Attacks in Russia Echo Threats by Chechen Insurgent

Sandy Empanada was coming north to go to the Raven on New Years Eve.   I didn’t want to go as my knee still hurt from a bone bruise suffered in a workplace accident a couple of weeks before.  But I wanted to be there for Sandy, as this would be her first New Years without Lisa.  Linda had settled into the house and was willing to go out.  I wanted to introduce her around to the Trans Community here.  That's one thing she didn't have in Saginaw, Michigan: a community.  So, I went. 

I wanted to impress her with my makeup skills, so I tried a few things I’d learned here and there.  I then waited in the kitchen for Linda to emerge.  She took one look at me and said “Oh HELL NO!  Sit DOWN!”  My heart sank!  She pulled a chair from the dining room as I went to get my makeup per her demand.  She completely redid my look while teaching me some techniques I never knew.  M teased out my wig.  Not just teased- she got absolutely sadistic with it!  And it looked great!  I received so many compliments all night.  Linda met many people of the Philly Trans scene.  And she danced the night away while getting rather tipsy.  I didn’t drink, as I was worried about all the other drivers and police.

Raven NYE 2013

I thought Linda would just be there for a few weeks.  However, she kept getting delayed through no fault of her own.  Eventually she gave up on Florida, found a job, and we decided to get an apartment in Pennsylvania.  We moved out, found a third roommate Zoey (without whom we would have been on the street- and we will be forever in her debt.)  We lived there for a year, then moved from place to place, hanging on by our fingernails as jobs for me were sporadic.  As of this writing, she is my roomie in State College.  No one will ever replace Lisa, but Linda has helped my soul heal.  And hopefully, I’ve been able to help her as well.

Solstice Scribblings

As I type this, the sun has set on the shortest day of the year.  This entry will be a mish mash of bits I've written over the past few months, some stuff I'm just typing in randomly, and whatever I feel like.  Call it a "clip show" if you will, but without Commander Riker.  

Bonus tribbles for anyone who gets that reference.

I dolled up last weekend.

Anyway, as I mentioned, today is the winter solstice, also known as Hibernal solstice, and, to my friends of the Goddess: Yule.  The Yule celebration is where we in the US get most of our Xmas traditions.  I think I wrote about that once.  Oh yeah- HERE it is!  As to those friends:

"Wishing you blessings this yuletide and every day. This Yule, may you and yours enjoy the blessings of the season and the joy of rebirth. As the light is reborn this winter solstice, may your heart lift with the joy of new beginnings and nature's blessings."

I forget where I dug that up, but I like it.  I didn't write it.  Cut and Paste is your friend.

I'd love to report incredible progress on my PhD but nope.  Still stalled.  Still my fault.  Same reasons, really.  Depression.  Imposter syndrome.  In an effort to kick my ass into gear, I decided to apply for a post doc kinda thing.  

The good news is that I had a class with Dr. Hil Malatino, who is in charge of this.  The bad news is that I also had a class with one of the other professors on the team during my first semester of my PhD studies, and, well, we didn't see eye-to eye.  In any case, I spent several days updating my CV, filled out the application (which included two essay questions of at least 500 words) and submitted it last night.  Do I have a prayer of getting it?  Doubtful- especially since I don't have my PhD yet.  But I COULD have it by August if I get my ass in gear.  So there's that.

As I showed above, I dolled up a few times this month.  I guess I just wanted to feel something.  Maybe it was because it felt so good dressing up for the reunion.  A big reason was that I've lost a lot of weight due to Ozempic and diet change (diabetes sucks), and I was going through my closet trying on things I stopped wearing because I was too fat.  I found several including my jeans!  Another reason I dolled up was because I kept practicing with false eyelashes.  Again and again.  Eventually, I was successful.  So, I dolled up to celebrate.

Look at what I did!

Another piece I fit into was my fave purple sweater.  

Bathroom selfie!

So that was a good thing since my last blog entry.  

Xmas is next week.  Wednesday in fact.  I won't see Wife or Daughter that day, but I may see them on Monday.  I hope so. 

What else is going on?  The usual end of semester money woes which mean trips to the food bank.  Added to that was the fact that my roomie/bestie Linda was sick for 5 weeks and out of work.  My income barely cuts it when both of us work, so that was crippling.  To distract myself from concentrating on that and spiraling deeper into my usual holiday depression, I decided to help a Vampire bride.  She was in a nasty car accident, which totaled her car.  As she ran her own driving business, this is devastating.  Add to that her injuries and broken glasses... it was a stake to her heart.  Like me, she is too proud to ask for help, so I started a GoFundMe for her.  

Hopefully this link works.

Oh, why am I calling her a Vampire bride?  Because we met when we were both in Dracula together at the Forge Theatre.    (Hmmm I thought I had a pic of all four brides, but I don't.)

Two of the four Brides rehearse getting Harker all "bloody."

She has it worse than me.

Penn State won its first playoff football game at Beaver Stadium today against SMU.  It was 25 deg F with a windchill of 10 deg, which I'm guessing was far too cold for those Texans.  Also, it was a "White Out" so it was LOUD.  I didn't score tickets in the student lottery, so I watched it from my couch.  Oh, here's a bit of trivia: at PSU we say "WE ARE PENN STATE!"  This started because of our last game against SMU in 1948.  

Oh, back in July I wrote a blog entry wondering what I would do if fascism won the election.  It did.  And they've already started clamping down of TG people.  In any case, I decided what I'm going to do.  I'm staying here.  There are a few reasons.  The first is that Linda doesn't have a passport, and I won't leave without her.  Second is that I simply don't have the money to leave.  Third is that if I left, I'd feel guilty for leaving.  I can't leave and let my transgender sisters fight on without me.  I've fought all my life (and have the scars to prove it), and I won't stop now.  Fascists need to be fought.  To do any less is to dishonor everyone who fought it last time- in the 40s.  

In any case, that's all I have.  Enjoy whatever holidays you observe.  Be well.

Christmas Night '21

So Christmas is over, thank God.  This tale begins on my last day of work at the LGBT Center for the semester.  As a thank you for volunteering to speak to classes, they gave me a $20 Starbucks gift card.  I don't drink coffee.  All of us working there got a small bag full of stickers and glitter pens and such.  A couple of days ago, my friend Aimee gave me a Christmas ball she knitted, which promptly went on the tree.

I've had insomnia the past few nights (what else is new?)  This morning, I woke up around 7, coughing my head off from this cold I can't kick.  It isn't Covid- I was checked.  I had a bowl of cereal, and went back to bed, having had only four hours of sleep.  Besides, Linda wasn't up yet, so...

I crawled out of bed again around 11:30.  Plopped on the couch until Linda was ready to open her gifts.  I bought her a book.  Linda's sister generously sent me a bag of small things, and my dear friend Jenny North sent me a DVD, an ornament, as well as a Disney + subscription.  She's far too kind.  In any case, that was my Christmas.  

Linda and I played a couple of games during the day.  I made dinner: ham and mashed potatoes.  We watched a movie.

11:30 and I still wasn't tired.  I took melatonin, but knew from experience that it would take time to hit. (it's 1:06 as I type this and I'm still wide awake).  I decided to take a drive downtown, so Linda wouldn't have to listen to me cry.  

And cry I did.  For the past few Christmases, all I've asked for from Wife for Xmas was for her and Daughter to come visit me for the day.  Hasn't happened.  Still.  I barely spoke to either of them, as while they returned one call briefly (as they were going to Wawa), the second call wasn't returned.  Guess they had better things to do.  I texted with Daughter a bit though.

Christmas Tree, College and Allen

I'm tired of the fact that they are Top Priority for me while I'm merely and inconvenience or obligation to them.  It's tearing me apart.  So, I cried like the weak little useless child that I am.  (Got a bloody nose out of nowhere as well.)  

I arrived at the main intersection in State College: Allen St and College Ave.  That's where the "gateway to the University" stands, as well as the Christmas tree.  I took pictures.  Downtown was empty.  No one on the roads, and maybe three people walking.  I walked half a block to take more pictures, and as I walked back to my car, I heard music coming from Zeno's, a basement bar I frequented back in the day.  It was open!  So I walked down the stairs, and had a beer.

Alone at Zeno's

There were a few Asian women at the bar wearing very short dresses as well as maybe six other people, plus staff.  I sat at a small round table, and quietly drank the beer.  Around 12:05, they started kicking people out.  I finished my beer, and walked over to the bar to pay my tab.  It was free- the bartender wrote "Merry Christmas" on the charge slip.  I had no cash to tip him.

I left him the Starbucks gift card, and went back to my car.

I hate Christmas, almost as much as I hate my life.

Stopped to see an old friend on the way home.

Holidazed

I've written many times here, on TG Forum, and on social media about my feelings about the Christmas holiday.  I hate it.  Absolutely and thoroughly.

Yes, I know- stop whining.

Like me, so many transgender people lose their families when they come out.  In my case, I lost my marriage as well.  My daughter was five when I was thrown out.  During the few years before that, I tolerated the holidays, because of the magic I saw in her eyes, especially on Christmas morning.  She loved Christmas and everything that came with it.  Does she still?  I have no idea.  I never see her on Christmas anymore- not in years.  

I just asked her via text.  She said "Yeah, kinda.  I like giving gifts."  

One of the major reasons I hate Xmas is all those years in the service industry: bartending, serving, wholesale, and the worst: retail.  Any of you who have worked retail during the holidays know how horrific people can be during that time.  During the last few years at the book store, working Xmas eve left me actively looking for ways to die after work.  People were that bad.  I would drive home sobbing and hating every breath and heartbeat.  Sleep couldn't come fast enough.  One year, my friend Katie insisted on coming over with bottles of wine.  She literally kept me alive that night.  

I used to enjoy Christmas when I was young.  Gifts from Santa were great.  Also, the whole family (dad's side) would get together.  I used to get along well with many of my cousins.  That kinda ended when we all started hitting our teens, and the oldest of the cousins married, etc.  When I hit my teens, I felt more isolated, because teen, but also because of my Dark Secret I needed to hide- that I was trans.  

In very late 1989, I met someone who loves Christmas.  We dated through spring and summer 1990, and she kept telling me that she was going to teach me to love the holiday, as her family was REALLY into it.  But she cheated, and by October it was over.  Then my first suicide attempt.  Thing is- I was really looking forward to seeing why her family loved it so much.  That added to the bitterness of the breakup and the holiday. That was over thirty years ago.  Yes, it takes me forever to get over some things.

Yesterday

For a few years, I did "Orphan's Christmas Eve" at my house in Baltimore and then when I moved back to PA.  That ended when I was thrown out.  I enjoyed that bit.  I think I already wrote about it somewhere.

Since coming back to PSU, it hasn't been as bad as that.  My roomie/bestie Linda and I watch TV Christmas eve.  Next morning she opens the gifts I give her as well as the ones from her sister.  The past few years, a dear friend has sent me a gift which I open Xmas morning.  That done, it becomes just another day.

Just another day.

But it's a day where everything is closed, everyone is busy (not that I have many friends around here- I don't), and there's nothing good on TV.  Some bars and such open that night, but by then I'm not in the mood for being social.  Maybe I will afford a decent thing to make for dinner, like a turkey or ham.  (Who am I kidding? It'll be Hamburger Helper.)

Thing is- I have it SO much better than so many people, especially trans women.  So many of us are homeless or worse.  In my case, at least I have Linda here, and maybe I'll be able to speak to Wife and daughter if they're not too busy.  Usually her brothers come over with their many kids (ten between them.)  So many of us have absolutely no one.

Maybe I'll have the money to buy a bottle or two and drink myself into oblivion.  Been a while since I've done that.  Besides, it's not like I'm doing anything the next day or so after.  I don't recover as well as when I was younger.  But Drinking, I'd go to sleep, and the day would be over.  

Face it, the only three spirits helping me with Christmas will be liquid, not Dickens-esque.

In any case, I know many of you enjoy the holidays, and for that I am grateful.  Enjoy them for me too, please.  

Be well.

The Magic and Missing.

Thanksgiving break here at Penn State, and all but the international students have left campus.  It's like a ghost town here- even the traffic is manageable!  For the freshmen, this is their first "real" break since arriving.  They get a whole week these days, while we only got Thursday- Sunday.

As the break began, my thoughts went back to my first semester at PSU, fall 1986.  Thanksgiving break was short, and yes, I went home.  I rode home on the bus, one of many with a trash bag full of dirty clothes in their laps.  The bus took me to the King of Prussia station, where my friend Mike picked me up in his brother's Camaro.

Me, Christmas break 86-87.  I'm wearing my Drexel fraternity jacket.

That whole break I was worried about a situation out of my control.  I detailed this situation in my book.  I was sort of seeing a girl I'd met up there, "Judy," but she had a boyfriend who'd graduated the previous spring.  She was seeing him over the break, when she was going to tell him about me.  We'd met already, but now she was telling him that we were fooling around.

Looking back, that semester was a magic time.  Penn State was new to me, and every day I discovered something new: a new building, a new friend, a new experience.  There were football games which were a vast party- a celebration of one thing I'd never seen nor had: school spirit.  Blue and white were everywhere, and we were all so proud.

It wasn't until Christmas break a few weeks later that I learned something.  I was at a New Years party thrown by a few of my friends from home.  There were only four of us.  We played drinking games, but by then my alcohol tolerance had grown substantially, and I was still awake after the others passed out.  I realized how much I missed being up at college.  I'd only been there for three and a half months, but I'd changed.  A lot.  And no one at home had.

I wonder if others reach the same conclusion I did.  Do they do so on their Thanksgiving break now? Do they even feel the same way we did thirty years ago?  After all, things are so very different now, with internet and cell phones.  They aren't as "isolated" as we were.  Back then, long distance calls were pricey, so we made few.  Now a person could call the call the other side of the globe without thinking twice.  We don't get as much snow now as we did then, and the snow also served to isolate us on campus.  The bone chilling cold kept us indoors some nights, and some of those nights are my most treasured memories- memories of just talking with people and learning a little more about their stories.

Floor plan, Beaver Hill apartments, 86-87.  My home that year.

When I returned to PSU after Christmas break, things changed.  One of my roommates didn't return from break; he'd dropped out of school.  However, he continued to pay rent, so that helped.  That left two of us in the tiny apartment.

Also, within a month, I started dating "Judy's" roommate, "Virginia."  Yes, it was a mess.  Looking back, I think one of the reasons I dated her was that I wanted to hold onto that "magic" any way I could.  We broke up a little over a year later, and part of the Pain I felt was because that relationship was, in a way, the last vestige of that "magic."

I remained friends with "Judy," and we are still friends all these years later.  I'd hoped to rekindle something with her, but I burned that bridge when I started with her roommate.  I fell into a deep depression during my last semester on campus, from which, in many ways, I never recovered.  When I left PSU for student teaching in December 1988, I was very ready to go.

I've spent the next few decades wishing it never ended, and trying to understand what happened.  That's why I wrote the aforementioned book.  I also wrote it trying to find the source of the deep Pain I felt in my soul. 

A few months after I finished writing the book, I found that source- the secret I'd buried for 25 years: that I was really female.  Transgender. 

It's been 30 years since I graduated from PSU with my bachelor's degree; eleven since re-discovering my Truth. 

First semester PSU fraternity photo- earlier this year

Now I'm back at Penn State: back in State College; a lifetime later.  I'm a very different person from the emotional wreck who received that diploma.  I'm not just 30 years older, I'd like to think I'm wiser.  Since graduation, I travelled extensively, married, had a daughter, buried several friends, and released my darkest secret- that I am Sophie.  I no longer have anything to prove to anyone, except myself.  One of the "benefits" of transition is learning who your True Friends are- and they are my support now.  I rarely go downtown to the bars since returning.  I can count the times I've done that on my fingers and have some left over.

I've met some wonderful new people, most of them far younger than me.  However, the Magic is still gone, never to return.  Penn State will never really be new for me like it was in 1986.  The people I knew are my age and parents.  Some are even grandparents.  Both "Judy" and "Virginia" are married and have wonderful families.  The Penn State we knew lives only in our memories, as it should be. 

Everything changes with time.  I certainly have.  While I am again a PSU student, this time for a doctorate, I know that this isn't "my" campus.  It belongs to those undergrads, who are making their own magic and memories, upholding traditions and making new ones.  I'm in a strange place- a part of Penn State's past AND present.  And, like all living alumni and students- part of its future.

Still, I miss the Magic.


Be well.

Men of the Skull Chapter 35: Winter Break

This is the second to last chapter of the fall 1986 semester.  The last one concerns a Rescue Squad call during break, just before coming back to PSU.  It has nothing to do with PSU or the fraternity at all, so I wasn't going to post it.  Let me know if you think I should post it.

In any case, this is the longest chapter of the book.  A lot of it has nothing to do with Penn State, with people who are from the first part of the book (Drexel) so this is an edited version.  I'm leaving in just the Penn State parts.

I was only going to post my first Penn State semester in my blog.  I've received TONS of hits on the chapters, and received some wonderful comments, both public and private.  I'm glad that I've been able to help fellow alumni remember happy times from their days at PSU.  Maybe I'll post the Spring 1987 semester as well.  Please let me know what you think.  And comments are always appreciated!

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Chapter 35: Winter Break

Saturday, December 20, 1986 Sakharov freed from Gorky exile

            First Dave went home, Then Virginia, Then, eventually, Judy.  I took the TV exam then walked to the bus terminal over on Atherton Street, from which I rode the Greyhound bus back to the King of Prussia bus terminal, maybe ten miles from home.  After four and a half hours, I arrived to dull grey skies and flurries.  The whole world seemed stripped of color.

            I was home, as it was.

            Mike Joy waited in his beat up grey camaro.

            “You’re late, Kandler!”

            “Take it up with the driver.  I think he aimed for every pothole he could hit,” I said while loading my laundry and book bag into the small back seat.  When that was done, I plopped down into the passenger seat.

            “Welcome home, asshole!”  Joy said, offering his hand.

            “Fuck off, shithead,” I said, shaking it.

            We made some small talk as he drove me past the mall and back to Spring City.

            Christmas break meant work: I went back to Wee Three Records as planned.  I wanted as many hours as possible.  I needed the money and I needed to be out of the house as much as I could.  Dave worked too, over at Diamond Glass.  I probably wouldn’t see him at all.  So it meant more time for work.

 [edit]

Friday, December 26, 1986 62 die on jet as hijack try causes crash

            [After playing hours of drinking games at the house of a friend's grandfather, which said friend was house sitting.]

After a few hours more of Three Man, Mexican, and Ace Face, I sat alone at the table.  Joy was passed out on the couch, Harry upstairs in a bed, and Chuck was face down on the table.  Even passed out, Chuck’s hat remained sideways on his head.  It was like a scene from a movie.  I was really drunk, but not so bad that I didn’t want to drink more, play more, or whatever.  Maybe I’d walk to the Wawa.  How did I manage to be the one still up?  Practice?

Then it struck me.  In my two years at Drexel, I came home most weekends.  I never let the “Drexel Experience” sink in- probably because I was afraid what would happen.  But now…

Now…

Now I knew that I didn’t belong here.  I didn’t want to just hang out at the mall, or go to Sensations hoping maybe to meet someone so I could stop thinking about the girl who just left me, or cruise my nights away on High Street.  I looked at my friends passed out and thought about them.  They were good people- I certainly was no better than them.  Chuck worked hard at the Mrs. Smith’s Pie factory.  Harry worked at another factory.  Joy worked two different retail jobs trying to afford school.  I was no better, but much as I denied it, I had changed.  I wanted a different life.  I was beginning to see things differently.  I met and studied with people from all over the country.  I drank in all Penn State had to offer.  Pardon the pun.  I really was, finally, a college man.  My path was diverging from theirs and was leading away.

Taken Winter Break '86.  My Letters are redacted.

So now what?  Having admitted that to myself, what’s the next step?  Be a snob?  Not associate with my friends?  No, can’t do that. 

Fuck, all I knew for sure was that I missed Penn State.  I missed the energy, the fun, the the…  I missed Judy.  I saw Virginia, but it was different here.  At Penn State, it was both of them.  Here, Judy was a voice on the phone.  A Memory.  Like Penn State.

I had another two weeks, or maybe my whole life, to wait until returning to school.

I knew this: I was tired of being different.

[edit]

Friday, January 2, 1987 Students rally again in Peking

            “Intercepted, Giftopoulos!”  the announcer Charlie Jones said.

            Penn State had intercepted Miami’s Vinnie Testaverde AGAIN!  Gifto caught it on the one yard line, ran out to the eleven, and dropped to his knees, covering the ball.  Eight seconds left.  Vinnie threw five interceptions.  This one sealed the win!  Penn State beat Miami 14-10! 

            Penn State was National Champions!

            Virginia and I hugged and then I ran out into the snowy night, barefoot, jumping and cheering!  I could hear cheering from a couple of the houses.  WE WON!

Interception Giftopoulos!  Freeze frame capture from You Tube

            Ok, back up.  The Crew gathered at Joy’s parent’s place to watch the game.  I picked up Virginia because I said we needed “more Penn State representation.”  I just wanted someone who Knew.  Who was from There.  Virginia wore her green sweater.  I wore my bumblebee FKS shirt.  You’d figure one of us would wear something Penn State, but we didn’t.  My only Penn State shirt was at school.

            Anyway, no beer, no pretzels or anything.  Just the game with Chuck and Harry’s smart ass remarks.  But not Joy- he was from Florida, and said he was rooting for Miami, but he didn’t say shit.

At one point he mentioned that the Penn State defensive backs and linebackers were punishing the Miami receivers whenever they came near the ball- especially Michael Irvin (he’d eventually make the Pro Football Hall of Fame). 

            It was a battle between philosophies: flash and brash vs. class.  The Miami guys always wore sunglasses and combat fatigues.  Our guys wore jackets and ties.  This time, class won.

           

            I came back inside quickly after I realized I had bare feet.  Virginia hugged me again.

            The time ran out.  Coach Paterno was hoisted onto his players’ shoulders.  Charlie Jones said “And there it is- its official.  The Penn State Nittany Lions are the National Champions.”

            Joy stoically shook my hand.  He paid me the ten bucks he bet a couple days later.

            We were Champions!  I had nothing to do with it, but it somehow validated my choice of school- my very existence.  It was the cap to a magical time.

            Penn Staters didn’t stop celebrating until early the next season.

            Penn State: 14  Miami: 10.  Fuck you, Jimmy Johnson.  Up yours, Jerome Brown!  After all your posing, we won!

            I hugged Virginia again, and she kissed my cheek.

Tuesday, January 6, 1987 Budget Totals $1.024 Trillion

  

It took hours to drive back to Spring City, as the Rabbit kept stalling.  Add that to the fact the Schuylkill Expressway was still under construction, and I arrived at sunset.  The mail was waiting on the kitchen table, including an envelope from Penn State: opened.

What the fuck!

Well the paper was still in it.

HIST 107: Medieval Europe…..  C    I expected that

ENGL 133: Modern American Lit to WWII….C   Not unexpected.

STAT 200: Elementary Statistics….C    I’m glad I passed!

THEA 109 Drama in Mass media….C     What happened?  I expected a B.

EDPSY 014: Learning for Instruction….D   WHAT???  I expected an A here!

Overall GPA for the term: 1.81

            I felt sick.

            “LANCE!” my dad’s angry voice echoed off every wall.

            Run?  Join the military?  Become a hermit? 

            “Yeah?”  I answered the echoes.

            “Outside!  Now!” the angry voice said.

I walked out to the back yard where he was stacking firewood.  With the sun going down, it was becoming really fucking cold.

“What’s your problem, boy?”

[I'll end it here.  The rest of the chapter concerns a nasty argument with my dad, a trip to Philadelphia, and making arrangements for a ride back to PSU.  The chapter ends with...]

While we ate, we made arraignments for the trip back up to State College.  I couldn’t fucking wait.

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Men of the Skull Chapter 34: Sahn-Tah

As the semester neared its end, students' minds filled with Final exams, the Holidays (how to get home,) and, of course, getting in those last parties at PSU before break.

And so it was at Skull.  And like everything else, Skull had a Tradition to follow.

Sahn-Tah.  That's not how it was spelled- that's how it was pronounced.  Accent on the first syllable.

The way this works is explained in the chapter, so I won't spoil it.  Sahn-tah was always a graduating senior.

This was another day where I didn't know what to expect.  I would participate in three Sahn-tahs in my time at Skullhouse.  However, this was the only time I received a "gift."  I have mixed feelings about that.  In one way, it showed me that there were still people who didn't accept me.  In another, I was sort of thinking that may not be a bad thing.

Oh, and Sahn-Tah?  Usually ended up on the Campus Loop, going around and around and around.

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Chapter 34: Sahn-tah

Friday, December 12, 1986 South Africa moves to silence dissent

            Like many large groups, the Skulls had a “Pollyanna” for Christmas.  Several of the guys were Jewish or whatever, but it didn’t matter- the Skull celebration had nothing to do with religion and everything to do with busting each others balls!

            Garbo filled me in after it was mentioned at chapter.  The gift could be as mean as you want it to be- or not.  The hat passed around, and I drew Chumpy.

            As I mentioned before, Chumpy was powerfully built, but short- five foot five at most.  He’d been dating Becky, the Zeta he met at Homecoming, since October.  Chumpy was the Gamma, which meant he was house handyman.  That was everything I knew about Chumpy.  Hell, I don’t think I knew his given name at that point.

Club Room: Post Sahn-Tah 1988.  I know I took more pictures, but they are lost to time.

            Judy and Virginia helped me shop.  I didn’t know nasty I should be with my gift- I mean after all I was still trying to be accepted by these guys.  Still, part of me just wanted to be mean: fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.

            Eventually I settled on my first idea.  We shuffled through the falling snow to the Hardware store at the corner of Allen St and Highland Alley where I bought a metal step stool.  It was small, maybe a foot or so high.

            I didn’t know how seriously the brothers took this event, so I didn’t know how to wrap it.  Marni suggested the house colors, so off we went through the light snow to McClanahans.  There we found shiny gold wrapping paper and Melissa found black ribbon.  Figured I’d write a short verse to explain the gift, and this was done on my old Skull stationary.

            I wrapped the box an hour before heading over to the house for dinner.  I didn’t know that as I wrapped, Sahn-ta was also getting ready.

            The event started at seven, and was held in the Club Room.  We all finished dinner and most helped clean up!  After all, we needed the chairs.  A few guys had dinner brought upstairs to them, among them was King.  King was Sahn-tah this year.  The others were Flounder and Sauce- they were Sahn-tah’s elves.

            In front of the blazing fire was placed one of the large black leather high backed chairs- for Sahn-tah.  A dining room chair flanked either side for his elves.  All of the gifts were piled on the piano side of the room.  Most of them were wrapped shabbily in newspaper.  My gold and black box stood out- and everyone wondered about it.  What the fuck was Chumpy getting that rated such a wrap job?

            Someone put Christmas music on the house speakers and Sahn-tah made his appearance- staggering badly and supported by his elves.

            “You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout I’m tellin’ you why- Santa Claus is comin’ to town!”

            King was dressed in a red sweatshirt, fake beard, and a Santa hat.  He was so drunk it was a wonder he was upright.  His elves, dressed in green with red Santa hats, steered him to the large black chair.  “HO HO FUCKIN’ HO!”  Sahn-tah yelled, holding his arms up in a V, then he chugged the remaining beer from the bottle in his right hand and threw it to the floor.

            Everyone chanted “Sahn-tah!  Sahn-tah!”

            Flounder Elf handed Sahn-tah another beer, and Sahn-tah chugged that one as well.  The elves then pushed him into his chair, and the gift giving began.

            Ok, when your name was called, you came forward, drank the shot handed to you by an elf (cheap whiskey) then took your gift.  If there was something written attached, you read it out loud, then you opened the gift and held it up for all to see. 

            I figured that all out while watching everyone else.

            We were on tap of course.  I stood in the back by the keg, where I filled the occasional stray pitcher handed back to me.  I knew I didn’t need nor want to be sober for this. 

            I watched as the elves handed boxes to Sahn-tah, who read the names as best he could.  He was slurring and drooling drunk.  Every so often, an elf would declare “SOCIAL!” and we’d all drink- including Sahn-tah.

            After maybe ten others, my name was called.  King was surprised as I was- he called “Lance?”

            I walked around the gathered brothers to Sahn-tah and accepted a shot from Flounder elf.  Gulp!  Down it went, burning all the way to my stomach to the cheers of the assembled brothers.

            There was no card or written piece to accompany the flimsy item wrapped with that day’s Daily Collegian.  I opened the package and found a battered old white t-shirt.  I held it up and saw that someone wrote FSK on the front with red magic maker.  (FSK’s colors are red and silver.)  The brothers screamed and laughed.  High fives through the crowd.  Someone shouted “SOCIAL!”  I had no beer, so I turned and gestured to Flounder Elf for the whiskey bottle, which he gave me.  I gulped a big mouthful of whiskey, trying to drown the humiliation.  A couple of brothers cheered “Go Lance!”  After finishing, I shook my head, twirled the shirt around over my head and went back to the keg.  I needed a chaser.

            I tapped myself a beer, then another one.  Sahn-tah passed out, his chin resting on his chest, drooling into the now disgusting yellowish beard. 

            Finally, Chumpy was called.  By that point, he was fairly drunk.  He’d torn off his t-shirt and was wearing just khaki shorts.  When his name was called he walked over to the elves with an exaggerated strut that reminded me of a cross between John Wayne and Grape Ape.  He drank his shot, burped loudly into Sahn-tah’s face (Sahn-tah didn’t wake up) and accepted the gaudy gold box with black ribbon.

            Chumpy opened the envelope taped to the top and opened the paper inside.  “This must fuckin’ be from fuckin’ Lance.  Who fuckin’ else has Skull paper?”  He held up the paper for all to see.  Some people shouted and mocked, but not many.  I guess I wasn’t the only one who had that stationary. 

            He then started to read.

“Chumpy,

It’s amazing to all the respect you’ve found.

In fact, you’re known in the house all around.

Your ability to fix things is without a match.

It’s almost as bad as the way you get snatch.

We’re glad you found Becky so you can finally get laid.

We wonder sometimes how much she is paid.

In fact we’d salute you, yes we would,

If only we could see you when you stood.

So accept this help so thoughtfully given

It should help in this short life you’re livin’

A giant like you sometimes needs a hand

So enjoy this stool on which you can stand!”

Hey, I never claimed to be a poet. 

            Brothers were laughing their asses off as Chumpy unwrapped the gift to reveal the stool.  I guess I did all right. 

            The brothers were still laughing as the next name was called.  Chumpy stomped back to the keg and looked up at me with an angry look.  He then softened and started laughing and shook my hand.

            “Drink, you asshole!” he said, smiling.

            We toasted and drank.

            Now, the deltas never put away dinner.  Turkey, mashed potatoes and all that were sitting out in the kitchen as we all drank and laughed.  Nine o’clock rolled around and Delta Gamma (DG) showed up for the social we all forgot.  The House was a mess- paper everywhere- nothing was ready.  A bunch of guys helped King upstairs while the rest of us did our best to clean the house. 

The DGs thought it was really fucking funny.  We got them beers and they kicked in to help clean the club room.  We had a wrapping paper fight that ended up in one of the girls having the whole trash can dumped over her.  (She started it!)

While we worked(?) in the Club room, some of the sisters helped in the kitchen.  They helped put the food in the fridge and the pantry.  However, no one locked the pantry.

With the house in passable shape we started the social “officially.”  Groups sat at tables in the dining room talking or playing Thumper or Quarters.  I joined in a Quarters game called Chandeliers. 

In Chandeliers, you have a central cup filled to the top with beer.  Each player places their full beer cup around that central cup in a circle, rims touching.  The player with the quarter bounces it as normal.  If it lands in someone’s cup, they drink their beer and it becomes their turn.  They don’t have to chug, but don’t take all fucking night either.  If the shooter misses, they drink.  If the shooter gets the quarter in the center cup, everyone shouts “Light bulb!” and chugs down their beer as fast as possible.  Last cup on the table loses and chugs the central cup as well. 

Yeah, it got ugly in a hurry. 

So I’m dead last and chugging for like the third time when Chumpy came over with the whiskey bottle, his stool and two empty plastic cups.  He slapped me on the back, put down the stool and stepped up on it.  Smiling, he looked down at me (barely), poured two shots and handed one to me. 

“This fuckin’ rules” he said, toasting.  Down they went, burning as only whiskey could do.  I winced.  My stomach started to toss.  The other players “smelled blood” and Bix called a social.  Drink more!

I don’t know how I made it to the bathroom behind the kitchen in time, but I did.  I think I puked up everything I’d eaten since 1981.  After I finished, I staggered through the kitchen, where all these sisters were eating.  Turkey, potatoes, they were having a grand old feast.  I could care less.  I had to get back to the apartment.

What I didn’t know, is that the meal was supposed to be our lunch the next day as well.  DG completely finished it all off.  Not a scrap was left.  It was a great social…

Especially if you were a hungry DG.

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