Friends

Lambda Omicron Lambda

Jeanna GLeave a comment

I didn’t know much about sororities before entering college, but I always assumed they weren’t for me. I had some idea that they were exclusionary on purpose and that they were for girly girls, and I was neither of those things. But as my time in college went on, I realized there were benefits to being in a sorority that I was missing out on. For one, they got to be involved in homecoming and other big events, just because they were a sorority. But the biggest thing was that they were a group of friends, and they had each other when they needed each other. So, for a number of years after college, I regretted not pledging.

But, like I usually do, I found a solution; I joined a sisterhood. We’re not an official sorority, but we have a lot of similar characteristics. I basically had to pledge and get voted in. Our “founder” reached out to me and asked if I wanted to meet up for a play date. That went well, so she introduced me to our “treasurer.” I passed that interview, so I was invited on a big trip, where I was essentially hazed for the weekend, but I survived and made the cut. There’s a core group of us, and we all rotate through positions, like social, public relations, and recruitment chairs.

Aside from the technicalities, the best similarity is that we are a group of friends who support each other. We share our ups and downs together. We travel, celebrate, and adventure together. We also cry, complain, and do nothing together. But the best thing about us is that we’re always laughing together, sometimes at each other, but usually with each other. There’s nothing we can’t turn into a joke, and that makes living this crazy life tolerable.

We’ve referred to ourselves as a tribe, posse, core, mountain bitches, lake-lovin’ ladies, winos, and hockey hoes. None of them know that I also think of our group like it’s a sorority, so maybe I’ll just surprise them with t-shirts one day. I’ll get the Greek letters Λ Ο Λ printed on them (that’s LOL in English).

Everybody Loves A Parade

Jeanna GLeave a comment

Memorial Day is, of course, a time to reflect and mourn the loss of our fallen heroes, but to also celebrate what we have gained as a result of their service and sacrifices. Memorial Day has become the unofficial kickoff to summer with all of the cookouts, pool openings, and parades.

Throughout my childhood, on Memorial Day, my family and I would walk down our road to the town center to watch the annual parade. Most years, at least one of us was in the parade. Whether it was the marching band or the fyfe and drum corps, we’d meet with our group in the Geissler’s parking lot to warm up and line up.

That parade would always march to the town cemetery for the playing of Taps, the flag ceremony, and the gun salute, then on to the old middle school for speeches, and then back to the town center for the laying of the wreaths. It was a long, hot morning for those of us who marched, but we always felt proud to be a part of the day.

Actually, I always felt proud to be a part of any parade while marching with the fyfe and drum corps. We were the Marquis of Granby, and we were really good. We were known for our crisp uniforms and precise and serious presentations. We were also probably considered the ‘snobby’ fyfe and drum corps at musters, but we embraced it because we knew we were good, and that made us feel good and want to be even better. It’s laughable to think of a group of kids dressed in revolutionary war-time garb marching down the street as snobby when, in fact, we were actually a very silly group of kids. We just knew when to act right.

Marquis of Granby marching through the town center on Memorial Day

I loved being a part of that organization. We traveled all over the Northeast for parades and musters. Our leaders were great at supplementing our trips with other learning experiences, like whale watches, dinner theaters, and touring museums and churches. And even without the extras, it was a learning experience just to visit other places and witness the townsfolk celebrating whatever that particular parade was about. One of my favorites was the Blessing of the Fleet in Gloucester, MA. It was a very long parade, but it was along the coastline, and we stopped for a break at just about every church in town while the priests gave their blessings. At the end we’d get to witness the spectacle of the Greasy Pole contest, while costumed contestants would attempt to make their way to the end of a 45-foot telephone pole to grab a flag before falling into the water. Memorable, for sure.

If I had to guess, I’d say I marched in close to 100 parades with the corps over the few years I was a member. I’m not sure if that equals the 10,000 hours of practice that is required to achieve mastery, but I know that at 30 years later, I can still pick up my fyfe and play many of our songs by memory. I don’t march anymore, and maybe I just haven’t been looking close enough, but fife and drum corps don’t seem to be as popular down here in the south. Either way, I still love a parade, so I’m always up for going and watching all of the groups show what they know, as silly or as serious as they may be.

The Ties That Bind

Jeanna GLeave a comment

I went to the Pickle Festival in Mt. Olive, NC today. It was good old-fashioned fun, complete with a car show, funnel cakes, kiddie rides, a petting zoo, live music, and a pickle eating contest. There were tons of people there, which was great to see, and something I haven’t been a part of for a few years.

There were two main strips of vendor tents and food trucks that ran along either side of train tracks. Rather than walking the pace of turtles within the crowds, my friends and I chose to walk down the middle of the tracks. Walking down railroad ties always reminds me of two things: 1) the movie Stand by Me (and if you’ve seen it, you know why), and 2) my dear friend, Lori.

My family members who immigrated to the US settled in Centre County, Pennsylvania. Growing up, we drove out from Connecticut for the family reunion just about every July. We always stayed at Twila’s (my first cousin once removed) duplex. In the home upstairs lived a girl my age who became my pen pal after we met the summer before 5th grade. We kept in touch all year, and then hung out just about the whole time I was in PA, year after year. We always had so much to talk about. So much so, that one day we got to walking and talking, ended up on a train track, and kept going until we finally realized we might have been gone long enough to get in trouble.

I remember we drew train tracks on our letters to each other a few times after that. There’s something so comforting in being able to walk alongside and talk with someone, for however long, about anything. Lori and I took the time to open up to and listen to each other, and it laid the foundation for a lifelong friendship. I was her Maid of Honor, and attended her baby showers. We still send birthday and holiday cards to each other. Our letters have shortened to texts and checking in on social media, but we’re in touch. After 30-something years, it’s safe to say those ties will continue to the horizon. Blest be the ties that bind.