Frankly, I think we should turn the house-that-once-was-a-Fraternity into a laundry. Not a Laundromat, mind you, but a pick-up and drop-off place, a classy business where you can get your shirts starched to order. I hate places that starch the hell out of your cuffs and collars so they chafe. We could put the equipment in the basement and put the cashier on the first floor, along with a sales area where we could sell unclaimed clothes to buy beer for Homecoming. Customers will attribute the noise to the washers in the basement.
Chuck and Jan Smith recently brought their son Trevor to my fair city for the traditional Spring College Tour Road Trip, during which parents sing the praises of state schools while children drool over private institutions with solid gold plumbing. Chuck's architecture business is picking up after a slight slow-down caused by the housing bust. If you're thinking of building a home or whatnot, give him a buzz, as Trevor is bright and isn't particularly interested in Eastern West Northville Technical Community College and Upholstery Shop. They spent the night in our guest room but didn't get any sleep, due to the wailing coming from the portrait of Hugh Gibbs that I keep in the hallway.
Donzo Wierbilis recently flew to Albany to join Monti and others for a reprise of Winter Camping in the Adirondacks. Winter Camping is an insane activity that involves hiking many miles into the howling wilderness, digging a hole in the snow in which to pitch a tent, and making sure you're bundled in before 4 pm, when it gets dark and the bears come out. In an ironic twist, winter is exactly what prevented the event, due to several feet of snow blocking all movement upstate. Donzo and Monti relived their childhoods by camping in the yard. A massive THUMP! woke them up, and Monti said it was snow dropping out of the trees, but Donzo pointed out that it was really 93 years of storied history coming to an end.
Donzo, in addition to Monti, me, Tom Berg, John Olsewski, Peter Aufrichtig, and possibly others, will be attending the Class of 1980's 30th Cornell Reunion June 10-13. We will likely go to a reception in a large, vacant building on South Avenue where drinks will be poured.
My wife and I recently took my aged mother to India to see the Taj Mahal. We made stops in Delhi and a few other places. I told Dreamgirl Lynda Hershey Spalding about our trip, and she said "did you visit Chris and Jill Klyne?" Several days later I talked to Tom Berg about our trip and he said "did you visit Chris and Jill Klyne?" Ditto the aforementioned Chuck Smith. Chris Klyne, apparently, lives in Delhi. This was news to me. Chris's naval duty, somehow, has taken him to the landlocked American embassy in Delhi, which we passed several times during our stay. This is an illustration of the deep brotherly love Chris and I share, stemming from a series of confrontations in 1977 between a profane and immature ne'er-do-well and, well, Chris Klyne. Chris, through blood and sweat, played a large part in stabilizing a struggling fraternity in the 1970s.
