“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.
Chip Chapman, ‘82
“We were zobies in the middle of Hell Week ..... Down in the basement .... most of us were scared shitless...... Standing all in a line eating white bread from each others armpits .... Rodger Watson (USMC) was in line with us, fresh out of the military .... Big as a house ....6 ft 5 ...all muscle .......Then the brothers came out with their paddles ..... (that as tradition requires ....we had made for them ) any way.... The paddles being waved ...the screaming unbearable .... and there is Rodger standing up straight and laughing at all of them .................They left him alone that night! Smart move!”
When we walked into his office his six foot six or so lanky frame was slouched in one chair with one of his feet up on another chair and his hands were high-steepled in front of his non-smiling mouth. He managed to move just enough to shake hands with Barry, without rising.
Barry was filled with positivity and new-guy enthusiasm.The conversation, to the best of my memory went as follows:
Barry, "Hi President Libby it is a real honor to be visiting the U of Maine and its very historic chapter of Phi Gamma Delta. I am Barry Mees, Field Secretary for Phi Gamma Delta. I am a recent graduate of (I forget which school, but I believe it was the University of Western Ontario). So what do you think of Phi Gamma Delta at U Maine? Barry was as animated and leaning forward as Libby was leaning back and unresponsive in a manner that would do the Sphinx proud.
Libby, (through steepled hands and with no sign of warmth) "Well. Mistah Mees (pregnant pause)....... "That is a COMPLICATED question".......... pregnant pause as Barry leaned forward in positive anticipation)..........."On one hand, Mistah Mees".......... pregnant pause as Barry leans even more forward and Libby slumps even more backward........ as individuals, they ahhh the most TALENTED group of people I have ever seen on this campus…”
“Getting everyone and everything from the ferry to the shore was quite a feat because there was no pier and everything had to be shuttled from the ferry to the rocky shore of the island via the motor launch on the ferry. It took many trips and I think several folks ended up in the ocean but it was a sunny day and no one died. All the food and all the beer made it too. We spent the day cooking, eating, drinking, exploring, and farting around. We made driftwood fires over which we grilled the steaks, and set the metal tubs filled with seawater, seaweed, clams, lobsters, and
ears of corn in the husks. Tapped kegs and drained them quickly, too. It was an awesome day. I recall lying on my back in the sun with my head in my date’s lap, while she scooped the tamale out of a cooked lobster with her finger and placed it gently in my mouth.
When it came time to go, it was getting to be dusk and we were sun-baked and groggy with food and beer. We managed to reload all of our gear and debris, not drop our dates into the ocean, and get back on the ferry. As we motored back to Bar Harbor and the school buses, it was getting dark. We were motoring west, toward the setting sun, but there was this strange glow in the darkening sky behind us. Our fires were not completely extinguished and had flared up and spread to the woods on the island. We heard over the ferry’s radio that a fire suppression crew was heading out to the island to put out the fire.”
We carefully scouted out Buddy's activities for that Friday and decided the place to take him was the Student Union. We positioned ourselves such that when he got to a particular location, we could take him with the least amount of commotion. We were literally about to rush him, when another brother came out of nowhere and they stopped to talk. Chance foiled us.
Seconds later, Dave came rushing upstairs. Peter Berg had just entered the bookstore. Not allowing chance to deny us of a prize, we raced to the entrance of the bookstore and tried mightily to look innocent.
Peter came out of the bookstore and we overwhelmed him in a rush right out of the door to the rear parking lot. I don't think Pete knew what was happening until we starting stuffing him into the rear of Steve's Corolla. He begged us to let him go. He had a field geology prelim test the next day for a critical grade he required. We could have cared less.”
A few nights before the big Halloween party a group us piled into cars and went up Stillwater Avenue hunting for a pumpkin to bag. I remember Sean ‘Father’ Flathers, Richard ‘Buckwheat’ Banks and Joe ‘Mama’ Colluci were involved but there were a few others for sure. Sean had his pickup truck.
We passed up several candidate pumpkins until eventually we came up to a house on the right-hand side with a long drive way and there under a light on the porch was a pumpkin about three feet high. A couple of us ran up the drive way to grab it while others readied the pickup tailgate. But that plan was not happening so easily - this thing was a monster - and it took everybody to lumber it down the driveway and into the truck. Laughing our asses off we made it back to the house and delivered the pumpkin to Boo-Boo for carving. He did an amazing job getting it ready for the party - especially considering that at the time there was no such thing as a tracing template. We all thought it was great.”
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