Monday, March 23, 2015

I was the dandy of Gamma Chi

I recently remarked on Facebook that it’s never good when you see a college fraternity on the six o’clock news.

And, sure enough, it isn’t. Fraternities have been in the news for all the wrong reasons lately, ranging from videos of racist songs to posting nude pictures of women on the internet.

After the story about the infamous SAE song broke, I read a thoughtful Facebook discussion about diversity and racism in college. It may surprise some that this discussion took place on a fraternity’s page—the page of my fraternity, Pi Beta Sigma.



That’s me, third from left in the top row, in Pi Sig’s 1986 composite picture. Pi Sig, AKA The Bulls, was founded in 1908 and is not only the oldest fraternity at Otterbein College, but the oldest fraternity in America without a national affiliation. 

The story of how I came to pledge Pi Sig is, in itself, strange. When I was looking at a college, the thought of joining a fraternity was far from my mind. What I knew about frats came from watching “Animal House,” although I knew the film was not a documentary. I’d heard that frats were expensive and, generally speaking, an indulgence for rich kids. 

During my senior year, a high school friend was attending Otterbein. While I had committed to going to Otterbein (as it was the only college to offer me a scholarship), I still had some misgivings about what the social life was like. I knew that it was a Methodist school with a dry campus and limits on opposite-sex visitation in the dorms, and I had the slight suspicion that I was being shipped off to Bob Jones University. 

My friend reassured me that this was far from the case. One of the things he talked about was the Greek system, especially the frat he was pledging—Pi Sig. He talked about all the frats, what campus cliques each tended to draw from--and how they were often used as a way to bend campus rules. 

Right away, I liked the idea of Pi Sig (even though I had not yet even visited the campus). I guess it was the sense of belonging to something that attracted me. While my friend left Otterbein soon after pledging, I was still determined to check out Pi Sig once I got there. 

Something about the place clicked with me, and I’m still not sure what. Several other Otterbein frats attracted athletes and were very much part of the jock culture, which did not appeal to me. But Pi Sig was more of a mixture. There were members who studied theater, music, English and journalism, among many other majors. The atmosphere was more bohemian than one might associate with a fraternity. If Jack Kerouac had started a fraternity, it would have looked like Pi Sig.

The frat’s culture was also more diverse than some frats that have been in the news lately. While I was there, Pi Sig pledged students from several different countries—South Korea, Japan, England, Germany, Syria, and Thailand, among others. And we managed to do this on a campus where "diversity" usually meant your roommate was Catholic. I recall a song that was written during pledging one year—a parody of CCR’s “Down On The Corner”:

You don’t need a ticket
To the universal frat
Eight countries holding,
Ronald Reagan can’t stop that
So if you think of England,
Japan or Germany
The Bulls are who to talk to 
And the only place to be

That’s a far cry from “There will never be a n***** SAE”!

I recognize that Pi Sig is not a typical fraternity. I suspect that Otterbein’s Greek culture, in general, is a bit different from that at most other colleges because the organizations are local, rather than national, and the dues are much lower, which makes them more accessible to the average student. From what I’ve seen, fraternities at most other colleges are the province of the privileged and bring with them many associated problems. If I had gone to a major university, a fraternity would not have interested me. 

Maybe it's just because I'm older, but I now think of fraternities, in general, as a bit antiquated and immature. By definition, they are sexist in that they do not admit women—no way to get around that. And it's hard to think of a good thing you can get from a fraternity that you can’t get elsewhere in college. Learning to work with people? Male bonding? There are many other activities that foster those things. 

When I see news stories such as the SAE controversy or read about fraternities being involved in sexual assaults, I start to think that maybe the time has come for frats to go the way of panty raids and freshman beanies. 

But when I catch up with Pi Sig on Facebook and see that many of its members are good, decent people, I can say that I am still proud to be a member of the organization. If I had to join a fraternity, I picked the right one. 

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well

Three years ago, I found out something about me that made much of my life make sense. 

I was diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome.

For those who do not know what Asperger Syndrome is, it is a form of high-functioning autism. If you asked someone what an autistic person is like, they would probably say Dustin Hoffman’s character in Rain Man. (While that character was based on someone who was not autistic, there are some similarities.) Autism actually varies widely and affects people in different ways. Most autistics are not afraid of flying, nor are they especially adept at counting cards. 

Some of the characteristics of AS include difficulties in basic elements of social interaction, restricted and repetitive interests and behavior, speech and language abnormalities, and problems with motor skills. I have all of these characteristics.

It is hard for me to write this, but I think it is important to try, because I feel that my experiences are things that people can learn from—Aspies, their families, and perhaps even myself. 

I could spend a month of blog entries on each of the Aspie characteristics and how they have impacted my life. The most prominent one is the inability to read people. It has been only recently—since my diagnosis—that I discovered that I have a big problem understanding people and their motivations. I tend to take things people say literally, which often gets me into trouble. Case in point: I was in law school for a year—the mistake of my life. At the beginning of the year, one of the officers of the student bar association spoke to the first-year students. Among the things he told us was, “Don’t worry about your grades. They’re like the lottery.” I took this to mean that your grades somehow did not matter. I’m still not sure what he really meant—maybe that you can work your butt off and still get a C. Regardless, it’s way too late to figure out that statement. 

One might look at my Facebook profile and wonder how I can have a problem with people. My college major was, of all things, public relations. But I saw PR as more of a writing job, and it appeared to be a way to write that promised more job opportunities (or so I was told) than majoring in journalism or English.

The irony is that I actually thought I was good at working with people back then. The reason I thought this seems silly in retrospect. I figured I was good with people because—are you ready?—math and science were my worst subjects in high school (and I think that might have had more to do with how those subjects were taught than any lack of ability on my part). I’m bad at math, so that means I’m good with people, right? There’s a lesson in that. As I learned, in rather humiliating fashion, during a seventh-grade field day, just because you can’t hit doesn’t mean you can pitch.


Saturday, January 31, 2015

Words are all I have

Why do people blog? I think it’s because it gives them an opportunity to make a difference. Blog and you could end up on the news or make a difference in some way. And we all want to make a difference. Not many people want to just exist. 

I have not blogged in quite some time, mainly because I work six days a week. Any spare time is devoted to spending time with my wife, cleaning up around the house, feeding various animals, and falling asleep in front of Penguins games. 

I also, frankly, don’t have much stomach for being involved in controversy. There have been past blog entries where words have offended certain people, even though those words were not aimed at those people. Incidents such as this keep me from saying what I want to say and take all the fun out of blogging. 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what kind of legacy I will leave on this earth. If few people want to just exist, even fewer want to not exist. The thought of becoming nothing is too horrible for most people to contemplate—that’s why religions were created.

I will be gone someday. It does not appear that I will have any children. So what can I do that will live on after me?

Writing seems like the most logical way to leave something on this earth. I have written a novel, which is available at amazon.com (end of commercial). All the people who have read my novel could fit comfortably in my house. I still say it’s a pretty good read. 

A blog seems more alive than a book that will sit on a shelf for 20 years and end up in a yard sale, anyhow. With a blog, I can say what’s on my mind at any given moment and it’s always out there, for better or worse. It will stay out there as long as there’s an Internet.

So you may see more blog entries from me in the future. I’m not sure what form the blog will take. I’m not one to bore people with the minutiae of my life. I don’t share pictures of my dinner or rant about the jerk who shut me off in traffic. I don’t feel comfortable doing that and I don’t think a whole lot of people are interested in it, anyhow. 

I would like to turn a blog into a kind of memoir—sharing parts of my life and the lessons I’ve learned from them. I feel as if I have a lot to say about certain subjects and I think people could be enlightened by them. 

You might hear from me again soon. Or you might not hear from me until I rededicate this blog, again, two years from now. 

Monday, February 17, 2014

You need not wonder why

In between betting races online at Oaklawn Park, I decided to take a look at this blog, since I haven't been to it in a while.
I see two posts from 2013--which was an improvement over one in 2012. These figures are down from a record 28 in 2008. (And Jamie's and my sports blog, The Fritz Blitz, hasn't been touched since 2012.)
Why has my interest in blogging dropped off?
It's simple. I have no time.
In September 2012 I became a letter carrier for the U.S. Postal Service. This job is six days a week (and will be for the foreseeable future, regardless of what you might have heard on the news) and is very demanding. I have already blogged about the time pressure, but the physical demands are also considerable. My over/under for weekly falls would probably be in the 1.5 range.
When I come home, I'm usually exhausted. My new hobby is falling asleep in front of the TV. I've slept through a lot of classic movies lately, not to mention the Winter Olympics and Ken Burns' Jazz.
I guess I have no right to complain. I'm not going to bore you with the many convolutions of my career, but, as I look back, I really have myself to blame for winding up in a job that isn't very enjoyable and leaves me with no free time.
There's a big upside to the job, though. It pays much better than any other job I've ever had, so I now have the opportunity to pay some debts and make my limited spare time more enjoyable. I have to keep reminding myself that, while I was on my previous job, I had to take a second job to make ends meet. And the U.S. Postal Service is still a pretty secure outfit, regardless of what certain Congressmen may try to do. 
The only reason I'm blogging right now is that, being a government employee, I have President's Day off.
So, while you won't hear from me as often as you used to, I'll try to blog when I can. Here's to Washington and Lincoln and all the rest (OK, I'm not sure about Nixon). And Oaklawn Park. I'm winning.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

An open letter to Suzy Lee Weiss



Dear Miss Weiss,

I read your recent Wall Street Journal op-ed piece, “To (All) the Colleges that Rejected Me,” with some amusement and a great deal of confusion. Since you attend Taylor Allderdice High School in Pittsburgh, it appears that we live only a few miles from each other, but it seems that we do not live in the same world.

In this piece, you accuse colleges of lying to you, and you attack their emphasis on diversity and extracurricular activities. You now say that the piece is satire, but the tone is insulting. To imply, for example, that Elizabeth Warren got where she is because she is of Cherokee descent, when many Native Americans live in poverty you cannot imagine, is offensive to both Warren and Native Americans.  

I can empathize with you in one respect, though. I, too, remember the college search as very frustrating. It was my first realization that the achievements in which I took great pride were actually quite ordinary. Colleges didn’t care about my prowess in my local TV station’s quiz-bowl game, and their definition of community service didn’t include being my dad’s designated driver on the way home from the racetrack.

But the similarity of your experience to mine ends there. I grew up in Columbus, Ohio, in a neighborhood that was near the middle of the bell curve as far as income and social standing. My father ran a barber shop and put four of his five kids through college—and the fifth one makes the most money, of course.

You’ve listed some of the colleges that rejected you—Princeton, Yale, Penn and Vanderbilt. Getting into these colleges was not something my peers and I needed to worry about. Nobody from these schools recruited us and no teacher or counselor mentioned their names. These were mythical places that topped lists that we read in news magazines while waiting for the dentist, nothing more.

For most of my classmates, the college search began and ended with two words—Ohio State. Now, I have many OSU alumni as Facebook friends, so, before they think I’m putting down Ohio State, let me say that it’s a very good school in many respects, and their football team doesn’t suck, either. On the other hand, I’ve never read a magazine article titled “How to Get Your Kid into Ohio State.”

Why Ohio State? Proximity was a factor, as were its size and the ease of admission. But the school’s most important feature was its relatively low tuition. The kids in my neighborhood wouldn’t have been able to afford Princeton or Yale, even if they were accepted by those schools.

In the world where I grew up, being accepted by a college wasn’t an issue so much as paying for it.  I was accepted by four schools—Ohio State, Ohio University, Michigan State and Otterbein. I went to Otterbein, a small liberal arts college in Westerville, Ohio. Most of the people in your social set haven’t heard of it, and those who have probably have it confused with Oberlin. It was not my original first choice, or the second, or the third, or the 50th. Frankly, the only reason I applied there was that there was no application fee at that time. And the main reason I went there? It was the only college that offered me a scholarship--which meant a lot to me, and even more to my parents, who were footing the bill. And Otterbein worked out well. I graduated four years later and have a lot of happy memories of the place.

I think the college search is getting to you, Suzy. Maybe what you really need is a year off. Not to go “find yourself,” whatever that means, but to try a different approach. The U.S. Postal Service is currently taking applications for City Carrier Assistant, which is the job I’m working now. After a year of delivering mail under tight deadlines in all kinds of weather, neighborhoods and road conditions, I guarantee that you’ll be happy to go to any college that will take you.

Might I suggest Otterbein? Who knows? You might like it.

Best wishes,
Bob Fritz

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Between you and me and Grant Green

2012 rolled by with one lousy blog post. Well, it wasn't lousy. It was kind of funny. But it makes me think--whatever happened to my desire to write.
I have this novel (which is still available through createspace.com, thank you) and I think I did a pretty good job on it. Sometimes I think I said all I really wanted to say in that book. It's a good story, if I do say so myself, but I don't feel like it should be the last word on my life.
A lot has happened since my last blog entry. In July I lost my job. Nine years with the company and they decided my job performance just wasn't good enough. Still trying to figure out why that happened. I felt like I was going nowhere there anyhow--hadn't had a raise in four years.
In August, my dad passed away. He was 88 and died of liver cancer. He ran a barber shop in Columbus for 56 years. It's closed now and has been cleaned out down to the tonic case. My mom has been left with a lot of work to do and a lot of old racetrack tickets. The racetrack was where Dad was happiest, if you could have called him happy. And it was where I was happiest for quite a few years. Money is too precious to me now. I can't believe now how much I used to bet on horses back when I was working for the Racing Form. And dogs, and blackjack, and...
Then, in September, I was hired as a letter carrier for the U.S. Postal Service. It's much better paying than my previous job, and also a lot more work. It's not your father's Postal Service. The clock is everything there. Get the mail out and be back by five. The carriers are very supportive and I've learned a lot from them, though. I was supposed to have a 90-day evaluation, but the manager said the other day that I'm "past that now," whatever that means, so I'm assuming that I'm good. Having a job situation so up in the air has really made me live life one day at a time. Each day that I still have a job seems like a bonus to me now. It does make me wonder what might have happened had I worked half this hard on any of the other jobs I've had in my life.
So, here I am. Jamie isn't feeling well and went to bed early and I'm listening to Grant Green playing "A Day in the Life" on YouTube. Not a bad way to spend a Wednesday evening, I guess.
So why do we blog? I look through other people's blogs and there seems to be so much repetition. Someone's photographs here, some teenager who can't stand life anymore there. How much is really worth wading through? I remember when blogs were new and seemed more interesting. When I first got a computer, it was so neat to go anywhere in this thing we call cyberspace and discover new people. Of course, there are some people you wish you'd never discovered.
Perhaps Facebook is the reason why I haven't blogged. Whenever I have an opinion that I want to share, I can just do it more directly over there. But there are times when it's just me and Grant Green and my dog scratching in the background when I just want to let loose and solo. I was always fascinated by the way Jack Kerouac wrote--first thought, best thought. Then again, it resulted in some inconsistent writing.
Maybe I should try blogging more. If nothing else, it's fun to look at your thoughts in print and try to figure them out. So you may hear more from me, maybe not.
All I know is that I've got a lot of mail to carry in the morning with my seven years of college. You can see me walking through Homewood or Point Breeze or Shadyside in all kinds of weather. And maybe I'll see you. It might help to live in Pittsburgh, though.

Friday, May 18, 2012

A Night(mare) At The Opera


Hard to believe this is my first Fritzburgh An’at entry of 2012.

I’ve been pretty busy doing important things like working two jobs, catching stinkbugs, mowing grass and devoting several weeks to a two-minute horse race and having no profit to show for it. Still, I have not abandoned this blog. I do have the hope that people will read it for more things than finding out who Polly Archer is.

I haven’t written a song parody in a while, and I was inspired to do so last night by a post I made to Facebook. I was going down an early ‘80s punk/new wave rabbit hole on YouTube and played “My Sharona.” I thought that it must be the most parodied song in history—just off the top of my head I can recall “My Bologna,” “My Menorah,” and “Ayatollah,” and that doesn’t count all the unofficial ones that kids made up back when the original was a hit (the summer before I started high school). Just about any phrase that came close to scanning with the title became a parody of the song. If coronas were mentioned in science class, it was “Dah dah dah dah dah dah, my corona…” And even in the locker room, it was “Dah dah dah dah dah dah, my sca-rotum…” I guess you could say we all got The Knack that year.

So I asked if “My Sharona” was the most-parodied song of all time and was answered with a page that says it isn’t even close. I question the accuracy of the page, mainly because I doubt that “Sk8er Boi”—a song I’ve heard exactly once—is the second most-parodied song of all time, and because I haven’t heard that many parodies of the alleged champion, “Bohemian Rhapsody.”  It didn’t seem like the easiest song to write new words to—or so I thought.

That night, as I was doing dishes, inspiration struck me like a family of drunks caught smoking in PNC Park. So I submit to you:

FRITZBURGHIAN RHAPSODY

Is this the real song?
Is this just parody?
Is AmIRight’s list
Even based in reality?
What is this site?
Is it made for kids only?
I’m 46, now
Pop’s passed me by, you see
Because I don’t know Avril Lavigne
Beatles, yes, maybe Queen
Anything the kids like
Doesn’t really matter to me,
To me.

Facebook,
It sucks my time—
Frat bros recall getting high
High school classmates proselytize
Though the night has just begun
Before too long, I’ve thrown it all away
Facebook, ooh ooh ooh
Didn’t mean to stay so long
I just sat down to play some Words With Friends
Share some old videos
And click to say I like gay marriage

It’s too late,
The night is gone
Now it’s time to go to bed
Benadryl turns off my head
Good night, everybody
I’ve got to sleep
Got to get up in the morn and go to work
Facebook, ooh ooh ooh
(Where did all the time go?)
Where’d the hours go?
I sometimes wish I’d never signed up at all

I see a little silhouette-o in my sleep
It’s a dream, it’s a dream, is it people in Mensa?
Or is it a horse race
That takes all my snore space?
Go! (Number seven!)
Number seven! (Number seven!)
Number seven, give me fifty bucks to show
And there they go, oh, oh, oh
Now it’s the Mensans, I’m at an RG
Yes, it’s the Mensans, we’re playing Jeopardy
Barry, shut up—who is Dostoyevsky?

Now it’s 5:44
Can I sleep some more?
(Miss Lily!) No, you cannot sleep some more! (Sleep some more!)
(Miss Lily!) You cannot sleep some more! (Sleep some more!)
(Miss Lily!) You cannot sleep some more!
Cannot sleep some more!
Cannot sleep some more!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
But I’m still sleepy, I’m still sleepy
Please, I need to sleep some more
But can’t you tell that the dog has really got to pee?
To pee-e-ee,
To peeeeeeeeee?

So we walk through the front yard at break of the day
Then I watch Dennis Bowman on KDKA
Oh, Jamie,
Give a kiss to me, baby,
You’ve got to get out,
You’ve got to get right out of here.

Doesn’t really matter,
Frankstown Road or Penn,
Off to work each morning,
Then at five I come home again.

Pittsburgh traffic really blows….


Lyrics copyright 2012 Robert A. Fritz