2008 Woodie Awards
The tale of Verlin the Greek elf
Josh Anderson
Issue date: 9/12/07 Section: Opinion
- Page 1 of 1
Folks, there is no longer any use in denying the fact: the gale of Rush is blowing at full force. The fake laughter and bright smiles will cast a fascinating glow upon our glorious campus, a glow familiar to many and daunting to you, our welcomed freshmen.
Several hapless pedestrians will unfortunately be trampled by the gaggles of girls who will groove a trail in the sidewalks of West Campus. As we upperclassmen remember, Rush seems quite important at the time, and some will make choices that will indeed impact the course of their life. My own experience with the Greeks is unique… therefore, I will share it here.
In the fall of 2004, I visited the hallowed houses of the fraternities and shook hands firmly with various and sundry fellahs. I ate the obligatory grilled meat (except at one house, where red meat was served raw on plates of steel, and no utensil other than a knife was to be found). After the first night, I was tentatively impressed by some but was still indecisive.
As I walked to class the next morning, I fell in step with a character possessed of a certain oddity: his boots were curled at the toe, his thick beard braided. He smelled faintly of Christmas and with twinkling eyes introduced himself as Verlin. Having known only one other Verlin, I was intrigued as to his country of origin.
"Greek elves we be, sent by the Titans to enforce their decree. Bound not by time, we guide the uncertain to the thinking tree. This ancient cedar clears the mist of indecision, and shows the path of Greekhood only to the ones who have the deep, thorough and abiding desire. For this is the demand of the gods: that only those who wish it choose it."
Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. Nevertheless, I climbed the sweet-smelling branches of this majestic cedar, and as I looked out for thousands of miles in all directions, I could not help but contemplate. Surely this choice is important, and I don't want to forgo all the dances and cool T-shirts. But signing on with one group seems like a limitation, and I can always find live music and like-minded merry-makers. I desire it not, and therefore I shall forgo the path of the Greeks, carving out instead my own trail through this wilderness we call college (while in the thinking tree, all of your thoughts are worded in a most profound manner).
I found a nest of peregrine falcons in the uppermost branches of the thinking tree, and took a pinion feather that was lying beside the dusty domicile. With the feather in my belt and my decision made, I made my way down.
Verlin was finishing his pipe at the base of the cedar, and he had sprinkled his Yachtsman liberally with a mixture of cinnamon and cloves. I started to thank him, and he just smiled a smile that told me words were not required. To this day, I stand firmly by my decision, and my only advice to you wide-eyed greenhorns is that you find your own thinking tree and make a decision you can stand by.
Several hapless pedestrians will unfortunately be trampled by the gaggles of girls who will groove a trail in the sidewalks of West Campus. As we upperclassmen remember, Rush seems quite important at the time, and some will make choices that will indeed impact the course of their life. My own experience with the Greeks is unique… therefore, I will share it here.
In the fall of 2004, I visited the hallowed houses of the fraternities and shook hands firmly with various and sundry fellahs. I ate the obligatory grilled meat (except at one house, where red meat was served raw on plates of steel, and no utensil other than a knife was to be found). After the first night, I was tentatively impressed by some but was still indecisive.
As I walked to class the next morning, I fell in step with a character possessed of a certain oddity: his boots were curled at the toe, his thick beard braided. He smelled faintly of Christmas and with twinkling eyes introduced himself as Verlin. Having known only one other Verlin, I was intrigued as to his country of origin.
"Greek elves we be, sent by the Titans to enforce their decree. Bound not by time, we guide the uncertain to the thinking tree. This ancient cedar clears the mist of indecision, and shows the path of Greekhood only to the ones who have the deep, thorough and abiding desire. For this is the demand of the gods: that only those who wish it choose it."
Needless to say, I was overwhelmed. Nevertheless, I climbed the sweet-smelling branches of this majestic cedar, and as I looked out for thousands of miles in all directions, I could not help but contemplate. Surely this choice is important, and I don't want to forgo all the dances and cool T-shirts. But signing on with one group seems like a limitation, and I can always find live music and like-minded merry-makers. I desire it not, and therefore I shall forgo the path of the Greeks, carving out instead my own trail through this wilderness we call college (while in the thinking tree, all of your thoughts are worded in a most profound manner).
I found a nest of peregrine falcons in the uppermost branches of the thinking tree, and took a pinion feather that was lying beside the dusty domicile. With the feather in my belt and my decision made, I made my way down.
Verlin was finishing his pipe at the base of the cedar, and he had sprinkled his Yachtsman liberally with a mixture of cinnamon and cloves. I started to thank him, and he just smiled a smile that told me words were not required. To this day, I stand firmly by my decision, and my only advice to you wide-eyed greenhorns is that you find your own thinking tree and make a decision you can stand by.
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