It would be wrong of me, in my report on Pike Deer Camp '02, to toot my own horn and tell of the huge buck I shot - it had its own zip code - without mentioning that Paul Weston '79 also got a deer, albeit a doe. We field dressed our respective kills and, at least in my case, enlisted the help of many stout men to help drag said deer back to camp (Paul slung his doe over his shoulder.) I offered to let Paul hang his deer inside of mine for protection from carnivorous squirrels, but he was busy softly weeping and didn't hear me. Bob Montione '80 and Nate Rudgers '82 came up empty handed. Deer Camp host Taz Ochs '79 got his deer later in the season, as he likes his meat seasoned by a few extra weeks of fear.
Speaking of Nate Rudgers, he's having a huge party at his house this summer. Everybody's invited. There will be a band, free beer, and lots of wholesome New York State meat and produce. The party will likely be in June. The date isn't firm yet because, technically, he didn't know about the party until just now. His wife, Nancy Boyle '82, will be having fits as soon as she grabs this newsletter from Nate's clammy hands, but that's the price she has to pay for being married to Nate. The reason for the party is twofold: first, Nate showed up at my house for dinner a few weeks ago and brought 4 (yes, FOUR) uninvited guests, and second, I am a cruel bastard who likes a wild hootenanny. Email Nate for party particulars.
Bill Webster '79 and his wife, Ann Ruhman, brought their two future-Pike sons to the DC area this past winter for what was to be an educational tour of museums and monuments, but turned out to be a visit to the Asylum. Just as they arrived at their hotel for their 5 day vacation, it started to snow. It didn't stop for days. For the first time in recorded history, all of the Smithsonian museums were closed. The entire metro area was buried. Somehow the lads found out about the video games for rent at the front desk, and Bill's credit card suffered a meltdown. Local brother Kurt Dodd '79, full of brotherly concern for Bill's sanity, asked him if there were any stores near the hotel that he could get to despite the 4 feet of snow. Bill mentioned the Piggly Wiggly nearby, and Kurt said "Great! While you're there, I need a few things. I'll fax a list."
Brad Smith '80 is monstrously successful in the real estate business around Palo Alto, California. Property is dear out there, and Brad is massaging the market with both hands. (You know how people make fun of flaky Californians? "Palo Alto" is Navaho for "Dances with Fruitcakes." Their city council is voting this month on a code of conduct - this is the gospel truth - that discourages council members from non-verbal forms of disagreement, such as eye-rolling and frowning. They're trying to encourage civility and warm feelings toward all people. I'm thinking of applying to be their PR person.)
Paul Lego '80 got a nice write-up in the New York Times, based on his being a Silicon Valley bazillionaire CEO. A few of us mused over the "what if they knew what we know" possibilities - frat-boy hijinx! Drunkenness! Hooliganism! - but then we had a group epiphany: Paul is, and always was, a boy scout. He never did anything illegal or immoral. We don't think he ever even had an impure thought, even when that stripper approached him during an "event" in the fratlodge and asked him to "unwrap her presents." A Pike destined for sainthood. Seems impossible, but there it is. Boggles the mind.