Grasshopper (2.0)
Oh, what the heck. I have the time and I'm on a roll. Be sure and read 1.0 which is right below this post first, but here goes. It's really cool that I just was contacted by an old AGO'er and sent him this link. Howdy to the Webhead.
The other great AGO story which involves Paul (and yes, I admit, involves me) was when Paul was notified, after he had been activated, he would be getting a swirlie. Am I sharing some secret stuff here? I don't think so. Swirlies aren't in the book which has all the secret stuff in it. I know this because my pledge class took the hinges off the ritual closet door and memorized the secret stuff we weren't supposed to know. We slipped each other the grip and the password and whistle all the time. If that had been known, we would surely have all been dinged. But back to Paul.
A swirlie is where a bunch of guys pick you up, carry you to the bathroom, and stick your head in the toilet, say about brow level, then flush it. After this they set you down and scatter while you try to dry your toilet water hair on their clothes. I got a swirlie. Lots of guys did. I don't remember why Paul was destined, but for some reason or other, in true Paul fashion, he wanted to be the one guy ever to escape the swirlie. How could one guy get away from thirty other guys? This, like the great Alpha caper, was when I was living at home and not active in the house or in school. So Paul and I had a plan.
At the end of every Monday night meeting there is circle up in the front yard. You put arms around each other, sing the AGO song, and then pray (truly, I miss circle up; I hope to do it again someday, and 'chug' Mountain Dew for my marriage or a child). Right after this is when the swirlies, rare phenomenon that they are, come. Paul got together some other non AGO guys he knew (and this prank kind of breaks the prank rules because we used non-AGO guys and a non-AGO truck) and here's what we did:
A crew of us waited down the street with water pistols and firecrackers in the back of a pickup; I had binoculars (if we did this today in that neighborhood we'd be shot by gangsters and then the police). When I saw Paul begin to pray through my binoculars (wearing his scuba hood as a decoy to the plan) we drove slowly up the street. When we got to the circle up, all those guys with their heads down and eyes closed!, we lit and threw some firecracker strings into the group and fired the water pistols. This was Paul's signal. He leaped into the back of the truck and we were gone. I think I had a mask on so I wouldn't get recognized.
A few tried to follow us in cars or motocycles, but they were so caught off guard, so dazed, there was no way.
Paul did get his swirlie, at retreat that same semester, a true serial swirlie, where they flushed him from toilet to toilet throughout a two story house. But he had scrubbed all the toilets beforehand real well, and I think he felt kind of proud at all the attention.
Well, I've shared two stories now (as much about me as Grasshopper!) but the fact is he was a unique person. For one thing he was constantly self-improving. He took classes in horsemanship, scuba to the rescue level, karate, sailing, he lifted weights to put muscle on, and he must have read the entire Bible more than once. He'd crouch in the back row at Bethany, Dennis or Matt up there preaching away, head down, immersed in Ezekiel or Hosea. I don't know if he understood all he was reading back then, but that was just Paul. He needed love and attention as we all do, only more than most of us, and he never quit pushing ahead, hoping always I think, to find it.
Except once, but I've shared enough about him already without his knowledge.
And there are other stories I just can't fit here: how he managed to get an internship with Duncan Hunter in D.C. (an entire blog in itself), a library of Congress card, a reader's card at the Huntington, a role as an extra (standing there, holding a spear) in a Barishnakov (sp?) ballet. Nothing could stop that guy. When he got the D.C. job he had no suit clothes, so he had everyone in the fraternity donate stuff, no matter what size we were, as long as it was something from C and R. This was when C & R had that policy of free lifetime alterations ('in case you add an inch here...lose an inch there'). They tailored all that stuff, for free, onto Grasshopper's narrow frame. Amazing. Some of those clothes were enormous. I don't know how he convinved them. Paul also used to carry with him, since he was a teenager, what he called his 'book of records.' It had every certificate he ever earned from every place he had ever lived; it was like a sixty page organic resume. He used that many times I know to do things he wanted to do, go places he wanted to go.
Another old high school friend, a guy from that same creative writing class, got in touch with me via one of those reunion boards just about a month ago and told me Paul was married last summer to a Japanese woman (he would be 41 I think, maybe 40 then). Apparently he lives in Japan and teaches English and has some kind of radio show on the Bible.
The last time I saw him I was teaching as a lecturer at CSULB, probably seven years ago, and Paul came to my office and talked, and talked, and talked, about himself. And I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't mirror him or meet his needs and had felt that way for a while. Perhaps I should have worked on it more; the relationship just didn't feel two-sided. But I truly am glad to hear he's doing well, is alive and married and living abroad where he probably belongs.
So there you go. Grasshopper lives. Knows Jesus. Has a spouse. Even a radio show. Incredible when I think of all he's been through. Thanks, guys, for bringing me back into some memories I enjoyed retelling. It reminds me the darkest times are not all dark.
t
The other great AGO story which involves Paul (and yes, I admit, involves me) was when Paul was notified, after he had been activated, he would be getting a swirlie. Am I sharing some secret stuff here? I don't think so. Swirlies aren't in the book which has all the secret stuff in it. I know this because my pledge class took the hinges off the ritual closet door and memorized the secret stuff we weren't supposed to know. We slipped each other the grip and the password and whistle all the time. If that had been known, we would surely have all been dinged. But back to Paul.
A swirlie is where a bunch of guys pick you up, carry you to the bathroom, and stick your head in the toilet, say about brow level, then flush it. After this they set you down and scatter while you try to dry your toilet water hair on their clothes. I got a swirlie. Lots of guys did. I don't remember why Paul was destined, but for some reason or other, in true Paul fashion, he wanted to be the one guy ever to escape the swirlie. How could one guy get away from thirty other guys? This, like the great Alpha caper, was when I was living at home and not active in the house or in school. So Paul and I had a plan.
At the end of every Monday night meeting there is circle up in the front yard. You put arms around each other, sing the AGO song, and then pray (truly, I miss circle up; I hope to do it again someday, and 'chug' Mountain Dew for my marriage or a child). Right after this is when the swirlies, rare phenomenon that they are, come. Paul got together some other non AGO guys he knew (and this prank kind of breaks the prank rules because we used non-AGO guys and a non-AGO truck) and here's what we did:
A crew of us waited down the street with water pistols and firecrackers in the back of a pickup; I had binoculars (if we did this today in that neighborhood we'd be shot by gangsters and then the police). When I saw Paul begin to pray through my binoculars (wearing his scuba hood as a decoy to the plan) we drove slowly up the street. When we got to the circle up, all those guys with their heads down and eyes closed!, we lit and threw some firecracker strings into the group and fired the water pistols. This was Paul's signal. He leaped into the back of the truck and we were gone. I think I had a mask on so I wouldn't get recognized.
A few tried to follow us in cars or motocycles, but they were so caught off guard, so dazed, there was no way.
Paul did get his swirlie, at retreat that same semester, a true serial swirlie, where they flushed him from toilet to toilet throughout a two story house. But he had scrubbed all the toilets beforehand real well, and I think he felt kind of proud at all the attention.
Well, I've shared two stories now (as much about me as Grasshopper!) but the fact is he was a unique person. For one thing he was constantly self-improving. He took classes in horsemanship, scuba to the rescue level, karate, sailing, he lifted weights to put muscle on, and he must have read the entire Bible more than once. He'd crouch in the back row at Bethany, Dennis or Matt up there preaching away, head down, immersed in Ezekiel or Hosea. I don't know if he understood all he was reading back then, but that was just Paul. He needed love and attention as we all do, only more than most of us, and he never quit pushing ahead, hoping always I think, to find it.
Except once, but I've shared enough about him already without his knowledge.
And there are other stories I just can't fit here: how he managed to get an internship with Duncan Hunter in D.C. (an entire blog in itself), a library of Congress card, a reader's card at the Huntington, a role as an extra (standing there, holding a spear) in a Barishnakov (sp?) ballet. Nothing could stop that guy. When he got the D.C. job he had no suit clothes, so he had everyone in the fraternity donate stuff, no matter what size we were, as long as it was something from C and R. This was when C & R had that policy of free lifetime alterations ('in case you add an inch here...lose an inch there'). They tailored all that stuff, for free, onto Grasshopper's narrow frame. Amazing. Some of those clothes were enormous. I don't know how he convinved them. Paul also used to carry with him, since he was a teenager, what he called his 'book of records.' It had every certificate he ever earned from every place he had ever lived; it was like a sixty page organic resume. He used that many times I know to do things he wanted to do, go places he wanted to go.
Another old high school friend, a guy from that same creative writing class, got in touch with me via one of those reunion boards just about a month ago and told me Paul was married last summer to a Japanese woman (he would be 41 I think, maybe 40 then). Apparently he lives in Japan and teaches English and has some kind of radio show on the Bible.
The last time I saw him I was teaching as a lecturer at CSULB, probably seven years ago, and Paul came to my office and talked, and talked, and talked, about himself. And I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't mirror him or meet his needs and had felt that way for a while. Perhaps I should have worked on it more; the relationship just didn't feel two-sided. But I truly am glad to hear he's doing well, is alive and married and living abroad where he probably belongs.
So there you go. Grasshopper lives. Knows Jesus. Has a spouse. Even a radio show. Incredible when I think of all he's been through. Thanks, guys, for bringing me back into some memories I enjoyed retelling. It reminds me the darkest times are not all dark.
t
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