Ken Hull '13 BC and Dave Miles 1776 graciously sponsored a soiree at the Fraternity House during Reunions in June. Many alumni from 5 to 50+ years out dropped by to reminisce about those halcyon days of yore, minus the hangovers and humiliations. A quarter century after the fact it's easy to remember the joy of washing down peyote buttons with a quart of Night Train and snorkeling naked in the coed pool without having to summon up the dark specter of the attendant carpet mouth, coma, and heinous community service project. Hypothetically, I mean.
Homecoming was probably a blast, but I was unable to attend due to not having the bus fare. I did manage to slap together a boondoggle to Cuba, of all places. It was an officially sanctioned trip accompanied by a perfectly legit US Treasury license, but the folks I was travelling with thought that my problem lay on the other side, and before I knew it, there were bets on which day I would get tossed in the Cuban can. They all lost, although it was touch and go that first night in Old Havana, when I was in fine imperialist form with a fat Cohiba in my mouth and a sweet Chiquita's butt gracing my palm. My point was that Fidel was clearly a homosexual, which I didn't have a problem with, but he shouldn't be so hypocritical about it given his early views and actions against gays; I mentioned the cigar and beard combo, the flashy dress uniforms and campy fatigues, the hanging out in the Sierra Maestre with Che and the boys, the lack of a wife or lady friend, but it was all for naught. A Cuban professor in the crowd asked me if I was a Miami Herald reporter - they hate anything to do with Miami - but I told him I was a CIA agent. Exeunt Dik, destination Santiago, on the other side of the island.
Santiago de Cuba is where Teddy Roosevelt charged San Juan Hill, where the Spanish abandoned Cuba, and where Fidel declared the success of the Revolution. San Juan Hill still has the monuments commemorating American victory in the Spanish American war, but they're all offset by Cuban plaques giving the Revolutionary spin. This, of course, is communist revisionism, but, moreover, and I can't stress this enough, it has absolutely nothing to do with the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity, other than the fact that you have never been to Cuba and I have. Nanner nanner nanner.
Kurt Dodd '79 is happier in his new job with a House committee than he was in his old job with Senator Pork of West Virginia. Kurt never really cared that much about federally subsidized squirrel canneries, so he marched his butt to the other side of the (other) Hill.
Nate Rudgers '82 continues to accumulate honors and fame in his position as New York State's Commissioner of Agriculture, and frankly we're all quite sick of hearing about it. After all, it's just dirt and crops and such, kind of a neo-Green Acres without the saucy Hungarian and obnoxious pig.
Alan Hoffman '82 is a respected businessman in San Diego. He has a babely wife and two beautiful children. For those of you who remember the Angel Flight hippie of yesteryear, I must point out that his hair is not only short, but mostly hypothetical. He used to not cut it, now he can't find it.
Dreamgirl Leslie "Fritter" Dombrowski '80 and her husband Paul Weston '79 are professors in Cornell's Ag School. They live in a stunning 19th century farmhouse in Trumansburg. They and their pretty daughter Nicole keep show horses on their spacious property. They are within crawling distance of Mark and Mary Ochs '79, as well as the Rongovian Embassy. We should all tell them how much we love them, given their proximity to Ithaca and their abundance of bedrooms.
Chas Horvath '80 was at Reunions with his wife Mary and his two boys. Boys are definitely hard-wired for destruction. Ed Catto '85 and his wife Jann were there with their three girls, who relieved their boredom by giggling, singing, and coloring. Meanwhile, the Horvath boys dismantled the patio of Willard Straight Hall and devised a system of tactical warfare involving guacamole, maraschino cherries, and forks. Little Cassie Catto wanted to give Mark Martin '85 a picture of a rainbow she made, but Mark, who is still built like a gorilla and was last seen playing with the Horvath boys, was apparently tied up and tossed on a bus bound for Syracuse, according to the witnesses who didn't have guacamole in their eyes.
Paul Faber '85 was at Reunions with his wife, but she couldn't keep him from sucking the jelly out of the doughnuts at brunch. Jim Dake '80 was stag, as were, apparently, Monti '80 and Steve Bloom '85. Dave "Bloomer" Bloom '85 was there with wife and child, an odd sight for those of us who can't picture him as anything other than an unrepentant skirt-chaser. The most beautiful woman who never became Dreamgirl, Winnie Dunn '85, was there, and once again I failed to tell her about the torch I have carried for her 'lo! these many years.
By the time you read this Ralph Nader will have been elected president in a stunning upset, and I will be braving the elements in the woods with Monti, Taz, Nate, and others hoping to slaughter Bambi. Last year I took a combined 7 shots at two deer, one of whom was closer to me than this article is to your eyeballs - if you're over 50 - and I missed. I couldn't hit water if I fell out of a boat. Put on a brown coat and fake antlers and run through the woods in front of my tree - you'll see.