Dear Fraternity Row Residents,
I often enjoy my walk to work. It’s a quick 20 minute jaunt through family neighborhoods and, eventually, as I approach the campus of the University where I teach undergraduates such as yourself or, in all likelihood, some of you, I pass the huge mansions of Fraternity Row that you call home. As you know, most of these streets are quite old or even historical, so the roads are lined with picturesque Elms and Beech trees. I often am reminded of Dead Poet’s Society or A Separate Peace, but with more red cups strewn along the way. And sometimes, inevitably, a pile of vomit here or there.
But such detritus I can cope with. A quick side-step and I’m back on my way.
I don’t fault you your college antics.
Here’s what I’m pissed about. Walking to work after Snowmagedon / Snowzilla / Blizzardpalooza or whatever else Twitter might be calling it, I found my progress towards campus stifled.
What by? you cry out, aghast. What kept you from your destination?
Well, I’m sorry to say that it was you. Yes, all of you able-bodied young men ensconced in your mansions of brotherhood.
Apparently, you were so overcome by your friendship with each other that none of you could head outside to shovel the foot of snow that fell over the weekend. None of the 20 to 30 of you fraternal residents, currently pursuing the development of your worldviews as University Men, could take the time to come out and shovel the walkway in front of your looming monolith of a dwelling.
Given that there are at least 6 fraternities housed on Fraternity Row and none of them were shoveled (I can assure you, I did the field work on this) . . . doing the math. . . that means 120-180 of you found yourself irreconcilably occupied.
I know that you were outside this weekend. Carefully shuffling my feet over the crags and crevices created in walked-over snow that has thawed and frozen over 3 days (yes, you’ve had 3 days to take care of this!), I witnessed snowmen with jaunty caps and grilling-utensil arms, sleds askew in your vast lawns, and even a game of volleyball set out to defy the elements.
What didn’t I see?
You guessed it–not a single shovel scrape to be found.
I’ve created an instructional graphic (see above) for you to internalize before the next snowfall. I hope you take it to heart.
Otherwise, I might have to come shovel your walkways myself–and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
Dr. Sarah K. Stephens