It was 1957, and I was on my way to college because
1. I wanted to get away from home.
2. I wanted to avoid adult responsibilities as long as possible.
3. I wanted some new fun experiences.
4. I wanted to learn about the world and myself.
5. I eventually needed to work and teaching seemed like a good idea.

Actually, it was all a good idea and I did get all of the things I wanted. I also got into a sorority — which was not something I ever even thought about. It just seemed like another one of those good ideas.

Actually, it was a good idea, and those “girls” became my good friends. We lived together both in the sorority house and in apartments. We TGIF-ed together, drank together, cried together over boyfriends gained and lost. We wore bermuda shorts and maroon and grey sweatshirts. Not only did I go through one of those traditional “hell nights,” but I and my best friend/roommate wound up being “Hell Captains” the next year.

I’m sure that I remember things about them that they’ve long forgotten. I wonder if my housemates still remember how, once a week, they would gather up all of the clothes I left around our room, bundle them in my quilt, and throw it all in the closet — forcing me to do the picking up I never bothered to do until I had nothing clean to wear. There were four of is in that room in the sorority house. I’ve seen two of them several times since we all graduated; the fourth I haven’t seen since she graduated, a year ahead of me.

More than forty years have gone by, and we’ve all moved away, moved on.
Tomorrow night, fifteen of us will be together again. Most of us haven’t seen each other in all that time, and we wouldn’t even be getting together now if it weren’t for the persistence of one of us who lives in Massachusetts. She’s another one I haven’t seen in forty years.

I can’t help wonder if we’ll even recognize each other. We’re going to meet by the hotel bar. Fifteen women in their 60s singing “Beta Zeta hats off to thee…”
I’m definitely bringing my camera. Who knows if we’ll ever do this again.

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