"The Voice of Many Waters”

Stories, as we all know, are the life of Omega Mu, and they keep alive our Omega Mu spirit each time we see each other, and there is nothing wrong with feeling nostalgic and then saying to yourself: “Did I really say and do these interesting things while living in the house; did all those events occur in the RAM, and did I really look like that during my years in The Castle?” And the beautiful thing is that these events did occur, and you did look like that. The Castle has graced the ground of 79 College Avenue for generations of Omega Mu brothers, and our binding stories were framed within the distinctive walls of The Castle. The stories are delightful, poignant and filled with warm memories. Your stories provide a clear, significant lens in appreciating our long history; second, they provide a broad generational spectrum of our brotherhood and our shared home. That is the power of authentic storytelling, not shallow prattle. Anyway, to be clear, please send me more of your stories. Each story helps each of us to appreciate and love, in new yet familiar ways, our Omega Mu brotherhood and The Castle. Thank you.

Fraternally,

Chip Chapman, ‘82
​
​Perge!

First Story
1950’s

“It was a sunny Saturday in the spring of 1954 when a few of us with dates, went to sand beach at Arcadia National Park.  As I remember, the sand was warm and we spread out some towels and had a relaxing afternoon.  We had some coolers with beer which which made it even more relaxing.  After a while someone had the idea for us to  go into the ocean.  As you probably know, in the spring, at a beach on the coast of Maine, the shore might be warm but the ocean is still very cold.  The plan was for the guys to get in a line and go into the water at the same time.  A few could hardly stand much less run into the water because of the number of beers that they had.   Well, they made it  into the water even though it was very cold.  A minute later everyone struggled back onto the beach stone sober.”

Second Story
1960’s

​“I don’t recall what time of year the IFC sing was, but we participated in that too. Something I don’t think Phi Gam had done in ages. After a couple brief rehearsals, here’s what the performance went like. There was a pretty good sized audience in the gym with risers in front and a main a isle down the middle. Other competing greeks waited back stage for their turn. We waited in the lobby. When we were announced, we marched down the center aisle, dressed in white shirts, dark pants. We lined up on the risers with Mike in front as conductor. He raised his hands to begin, paused, and we all whipped out dark glassed and put them on. Then, in loud and not very melodic voice, we sang Country Joe’s “Vietnam Song” which I recall calling the “Vietnam Rag”. When we finished, we took off our glasses, put them in our pockets, and walked out the way we had come in. I think we got some enthusiastic cheers, but there were lots of stunned faces too. It was sweet!”

Third Story
1960’s

​“Suddenly a flourish of brain cells seem to have kicked in and I recall a bunch of stories that will take me a while to get down in writing: stealing a real pig for Pig Dinner, how to kill a pig (no one knew), the infamous Fiji Island fire on Baker Island (1968, I think), Freak-out parties.  How we pulled ourselves together to escape from social probation under the leadership of Michael O’Leary by suddenly cleaning up our act and participating in all the goody-goody activities that were expected of a “good” fraternity:  the snow sculpture of a drunk driving accident designed by “the spook”, our artistic brother, complete with red-dyed snow representing blood, participation in the IFC sing performing “The Vietnam Song” by Country Joe and the Fish:
 
“Well come on all of you big strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again,
he got himself in a terrible jam, way down yonder in Vietnam,
put down your books and pick up a gun, we're gunna have a whole lotta fun.
 
CHORUS
and its 1,2,3 what are we fightin' for?
don't ask me i don't give a dam, the next stop is Vietnam,
 
and its 5,6,7 open up the pearly gates. Well there ain’t no time to wonder why...WHOPEE we're all gunna die.
 
now come on wall street don't be slow, why man this's war a-go-go,
there's plenty good money to be made, supplyin' the army with the tools of the trade,
just hope and pray that when they drop the bomb, they drop it on the Vietcong.
 
CHORUS
 
now come on generals lets move fast, your big chance is here at last.
nite you go out and get those reds cuz the only good commie is one thats dead,
you know that peace can only be won, when you blow em all to kingdom come.
CHORUS
 
(spoken)- “Listen, people, I don’t know you expect to ever stop the war if you cant sing any better than that... theres about 300,000 of you fuc|ers out there.. I want you to start singing..’
 
CHORUS
 
now come on mothers throughout the land, pack your boys off to Vietnam,
come on fathers don't hesitate, send your sons off before its too late,
be the first one on your block, to have your boy come home in a box.”

Fourth Story
1960’s

​“I was in the pledge class of 1969 and one night after the library closed we abducted Van Dyke and his girlfriend as he was walking her back to her dorm up on the hill. The plan was to keep them hidden away until morning when they would be released and we, the Zobies, would be safe from paying any penalty for the act. 
 
We first took them to a summer camp located east of Brewer where we planned to hide out for the night. Unfortunately it was a bad plan because it was January and the place wasn't insulated and we couldn't get enough heat out for the stove to warm the place up. So then we decided to head back into Brewer and rent a room at a local motel. 
 
We picked Dick Stacy's Motel located on Route 1A at the edge of town in Brewer. Everything was good. We had heat and it was the middle of the night and we hadn't been discovered yet so we all thought we had it made. The next thing you know, the door explodes into the room followed by a bunch of shouting "Zobies, get back to the house right away!" as they grabbed VD and his girlfriend and sped off. 
 
We were so stunned that we didn't realize the there were only a couple of them and 15 of us and we could have just grabbed them if we had had our wits about us. The element of surprise did us in and we paid the price for the rest of the night. It was a zoo, if you know what I mean! ‘Thank you, Sir! May I have another?’”

Fifth Story
1980’s

​“No tale about life in the house would be complete without reminiscing about time spent in the Ram.  The Ram was one of the few spaces in the house that the general populace rarely saw or even knew about, yet it was a vital element of the overall house experience.  Remember the horror on your mother’s face as you showed your parents where you slept for that obligatory parents’ weekend tour?  “Why are the windows wide open?” “Would that ladder really work?” “Why are there no alarm clocks?” “Do boys bring girls up here?”  “It’s not really…….that clean.”  But to those of us that got to experience the privilege of spending most of our non-waking moments embraced by its exalted, dark wood partitioned, and often frigid walls, it was an experience like no other.”

Sixth Story
1980’s

​“Fresh air.  Up until more recently, in this energy conscious/climate change fake news, were the windows in the Ram ever closed?  Does anyone recall if there were even working windows?  No matter how cold, no matter what kind of weather, it didn’t matter and I suspect all would agree it was the best sleep you ever experienced to this day.  The more blankets and sleeping bags the merrier and who washed their sheets in the year. The cold took care of any critters.  I distinctly recall Brother Wallace snoring away in the Mental Ward, directly beneath the end window, as snow blew in and built up on his slumbering carcass.”

Seventh Story
1980’s

​“Psycho”.  Did you ever see the movie Psycho, are you a fan of movies that instill mental terror?  They had nothing on some of the pranks pulled by Brother Shaboski.  Shab rarely slept, he was too stressed out by schoolwork and a host of other mental quirks, so he’d perpetually be up into the wee hours, after we’d all retire to the Ram.  His favorite victims were Brother Hannan and Brother Emmons.  Of particular note, and his escapades were many, was when he waited patiently for hours underneath Hannan’s bed for Phil to come up and go to sleep.  Waiting even longer he then suddenly reached up from beneath the bed and grabbed Phil. Now Phil had his own late night demons so when he finally fell asleep and was grabbed, his screams of terror were enough to wake up the Zeroes next door.”

Eighth Story
1980’s

“Mysterium Tremendum”

​“The RAM is the
Territory of mystery in
Omega Mu, the place of
Fables and legendary 

Pranks, and not the 
Light fairy-
Tales of the brothers’
Grimm. Oh
 
No. “It was
No paradise
Of innocence”
Like Grimm’s
 
Fairy Tales
Because once
You put your name on
The desired time nail
 
To be waked up in the
Morning, you had to be
Philosophically,
Emotionally, and 

Psychologically
Alert when you
Opened the
Creaky door and felt the
 
Descending cold
Rush of air as you
Ascended, feeling the
Curious ethereal yet
 
Emotionally inert
Quality of the
Numinous realm of 
Static-un-time with
 
The guiding
Principle of
Unknowability in the
Mythological

Black Hole
“Singularity” of
Omega Mu’s
RAM when the 

Nocturnal tocsin of the
RAM sounded for
Simple and true
Terror and humor
 
Activities that would
Commence, with no
Program notes to prepare
The wary or unwary as to
 
What might happen on
Any given night in
Rooms filled with generational
Memory specters amidst the
 
Miscellany of broken
Furniture, RAM-
Shackled bed frames,
Mattresses, piled junk, and
 
Strewn clothes, and benefacted
Goods from previous
Generations of brothers,
Creating a brisk dynamic inter-
 
Generational commerce
Free of the dollar signs
When brothers would
Cometh to the RAM To
 
Receiveth, “Each according
To his needs” – Ah, Marx!

Papers, books, clothes,
Sporting equipment, and a
Farrago of didactic and
Erotic literature, 

A classic Stones album,
Sticky Fingers, a Woodstock
Ticket from a ’68 - ‘71
Brother, and a condom
 
Or two, but only
one brother was caught
Caught in flagrante
Delicto in the RAM
 
With his girlfriend,
Poor Paula.
But at night, after you
Ascended the stairs and
Opened the door and
 
Entered the woody, dusty,
Fibrous smelling
Darkness of the RAM,
Every clear-headed, no-
 
Nonsense nocturnal
Impulse was displayed by
Brothers full of complexities
And compulsions from placing
 
A dead bear in a brother’s bed in ’56
To Shab, mad craftsman and
Weaver of many RAM
Spells, putting Phil into
 
Spluttering anticipatory
Paroxysms of fear and
Trembling and years of
Psychoanalytical treatment
 
To cleanse his blighted,
Scarred subconscious
Soil of Shab to regain
Approximate human sensibility.
 
But it was the cheerful,
Unchecked verbal
Galaxy and rippling
Threads of humor of this

Mythically unique
Place because it induced
Amiably indulgent thought
And
 
Creativity in unfastened
Conversation of pure
Mysterium absurdum from
The “Mental Ward” –

With their Mao led
All-or-nothing magical
“Fantasia” of delicately
Complex theatre-stories,
 
His fictive personae,
Of high dramatic verse of
Romantic smuttiness and
Baroque emotionalism, a

Well-worn Mao track of
Habit, with the jesting
Echoing response of gentle-
Souled incredulous laughter
 
Of  Hicksy, Bart, Jughead,
Gar, and Rocky, echoing
Down the dusty
Corridor by the

Zobie room with their
Eyes half-closed-open,
Their onion pearl
Dangling around their
 
Neck, their tasty trademark,
Their troubles fully alive,
Waiting at the edge of their
Magical mystery,
​
Murmuring, nervously,
Wondering when
Molten-eyed brothers would
Descend upon them and hellish
 
Hopelessness would begin,
Stiffening their resolution of
Will to prevail and become
Brothers…”

Fraternally,
Chip Chapman. ‘82
Perge!