“Worst That Could Happen” – Brooklyn Bridge
The first half of January, the start of the new winter quarter of 1970, began with over two weeks of snow, ice, temperatures never above freezing and low temperatures below zero. The gloom of daily overcast conditions and winds of up to 20 mph quickly depressed even the heartiest, most fun-loving soul.
Barry slammed the door so hard on his VW Bug, the icicles that had formed on the sycamore tree above his car, cracked and rained down on him and the car. With the snow falling more heavily, the ruts in the fraternity parking lot were so deep that smaller cars had no steering capability at all. With drifts up to his knees, he stepped, slid, fell and staggered his way to the house. Nearly exhausted, he made it across the porch to the back door where he turned the knob, pushed the door open and stepped into the warmth and safety of the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you fall?” Alfonso said as he reached into his pocket and slapped a dollar on Frank’s outreached palm.
“Pay up brothers,” Frank commanded as he received a dollar each from Larry, Mike , Don and Stan. “See Barry, I’m the only one who had faith in you!”
“I didn’t bet.” Rick said proudly.
“Way to go pledge,” Larry remarked sarcastically.
“Thanks guys. If this is how my quarter is going to be, then I quit!” Barry said.
“It’s just some snow,” Frank remarked.
“I wish. That was the best part of my week.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and opened it. “Here are my next four days this week . . . Wednesday and Friday 7:45 a.m. classes, Thursday a 7:45 a.m. class, a 1 p.m. class and a 6 to 10 p.m. lab. And Tuesday, I get to drive to the west side of Cleveland to the Public Health Department . . . part of the practical experience I have to have to graduate. That’s about a fifteen hour day with only about five hours of sleep until my 7:45 a.m. on Wednesday.” He crumbled the paper up again and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I can’t do it.”
“We all have a tough quarter. All the professors are trying to make sure we’re ready to face the world,” Larry summarized.
“Why is it so cold in here?” Barry was just starting to feel his fingers again, but he was realizing that inside the house wasn’t as warm as it should be.
“Gas is up and down, so the boiler is not working too well,” Mike explained.
“Who’s got a cigarette?” Barry asked and Stan flipped him a pack of Marlboros. “Light?”
Stan shook his head.
Barry went to the gas range to get a light as everyone often did. He placed the cigarette in his mouth, bent down and positioned the end over the large burner. He slowly turned the burner on and the flame barely lit around the burner cover. Barry leaned in further to where the end of the cigarette just touched the tip of the erratic small flame. Suddenly, a large whooshing sound from the burner could be heard as the flame leaped up and singed his eyebrows in place. The lit cigarette fell to the linoleum floor as he rushed to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He grabbed a dish towel and wiped his eyes and then turned around to face the assembled amused crowd. Spontaneous applause broke out, and as it grew, he took several bows.
“Thanks guys . . . really supportive . . . ,” he said.
Mom came rushing out of her apartment to see what the commotion was about. “Is everyone okay in here?”
By now Barry was beginning to feel proud of his new hairless face. “I thought I’d do a little eyebrow plucking, Mom,” he answered as he walked over to her and showed her his new look. “See?”
“I see you also took some hair off . . . whew, that smells like you’re dead.”
“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
“What are you going to do with your schedule?” Don asked.
Barry opened the refrigerator and found a cola, took it out and opened it. After a brief drink, he answered, “I’m going to drop Dr. Wells’ health policy class next week.”
Mom shook her head. “Drop a class? Do you think that’s wise?”
“I can pick it up spring quarter and still graduate on time, Mom,” Barry said.
“I talk with all the other house mothers daily about this draft situation, and they have changed some things you may not know about,” she said frankly
“Like what?” Barry asked, but everyone in the room listened closely to the answer.
“Even if you drop classes to get a job so you can stay in school, if your remaining classes don’t make you a full time student, you will lose your student deferment!” she stated, matter-of-factly.
Barry wasn’t too worried. “They won’t find out for a few months, and by then I’ll be in spring quarter and full-time again.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said and walked back into her room, closing the door loudly behind her. Mabel was first and foremost a supporter of every one of her boys, and she hated to see them make rash decisions that would affect them later. But she knew that all she could offer was advice. It was up to them to listen . . . or not.
“Hey, who wants to play Spades?”
Spades was a game that had originated in nearby Cincinnati, Ohio and was played as a partnership by bidding and taking card tricks. When a player can follow suit but doesn’t, the penalty for reneging was severe at this house. Reneging in the selective service lottery game, however, could be deadly.