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Little Boxes of Destiny: Memories of A Young Man

Name: Bill Gross
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Date: 24 Feb 1999
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Excitement and anticipation pulsated through my body on that fateful autumn afternoon. The events about to unfold could definitely affect the subsequent course of my life. The emotionally intense scenes of that afternoon are precisely and permanently framed in my memory. I can recall them vividly today, even though they occurred forty-six years ago.

It was September, 1953. Magnificent fall colors decorated the main campus of the University of Tennessee at Knoxville. The sun was a golden ball suspended in a cloudless, azure sky. A gentle breeze cooled my warm, anxious, eighteen-year-old face. "Could this perfect weather be a favorable omen?" I wondered.

I was a beginning freshman at the university and had attended several fraternity rush parties the previous week. The only bid that I wanted was from Sigma Chi.

On this particular afternoon, all the fraternities were to extend formal invitations to a limited number of carefully chosen young men. The procedure was for each fraternity house to place its bids in small, sealed envelopes. These were than delivered to the student center building. Each freshman who had participated in rush week was assigned a little paper box in which fraternities placed their invitations. Those of us who were interested in fraternity life were to report to the student center at three o'clock to find out what bids, if any, had been deposited in our boxes.

Various possibilities existed concerning these boxes of destiny. Some freshman would receive no bids; popular ones could get invitations from fraternities of their choice; still others might find bids from houses in which they had little or no interest. This set of possible consequences explained the anticipation, elation, and disappointment that characterized the climax of the rush process. "What kind of destiny was waiting for me in my box?"

In the 1950's in Tennessee, fraternities were instrumental in defining a student's social status and worth on campus. For instance, if you belonged to a prestigious fraternity, much of it's identity and respect were automatically transferred, like currency, to you. This transfer increased your chances of becoming a "big man on campus." Thus, the fraternity to which you belonged substantially influenced your immediate destiny and perhaps even your long range future.

Sigma Phi was the preeminent and most desired fraternity on the Tennessee campus. I knew first hand about it's prominence because I lived and completed high school in Knoxville. Furthermore, I had a distant cousin who was Sigma Chi. He told me about the pleasures and hijinks of the fraternity and about its social and political advantages. I also knew from other sources about its elegant formal dances, spirited weekend parties, particularly during the important football season and, of course, the renowned Derby.

The Sigma Chi Derby was held every fall on the lawn of its large colonial style house. Each sorority sent it's sexiest and most talented pledges to compete in contests of pulchritude, music and comedy. Winners were selected by a panel of Sigma Chi brothers.

I certainly wanted to be present at the next Derby. I wanted to see the winning sorority dance and sing, "We kick our legs high for Sigma Chi." Derby festivities culminated when all the assembled sorority sisters and Sigma Chi brothers sang together the haunting, romantic, "Sweetheart of Sigma Chi."

It was common campus knowledge that Sigma Chi wanted and usually got only the best to fill its ranks each year. It attracted the sons of rich, famous, and influential Tennessee families. It also had several All American football players on its roster. For balance, the fraternity had a sizable number of bona fide scholars.

Obviously, I did not fit into any of these exclusive categories. Yet the emotional optimism of my youth overrode all rational considerations.

It was almost time to go to the student center. My anxiety level was rising by the minute! I sat down on a wooden bench outside old Ayres Hall, the main academic building. I was waiting for Jerry, my best friend throughout high school. He and I had agreed to meet there and go together to discover what fate had stored in our boxes. As I sat there, the chimes atop Ayres Hall somberly told the hour, as it had done for countless, previous generations of students. When the chimes stopped reverberating, I began contemplating the possible content of the little box bearing my name in the student center.

I believed that the content would shape my campus identity in the near term and my long-range destiny as well. At that instant, I sensed that fate was about to strike, as the chimes had just done. While continuing to wait for Jerry, I realistically appraised my chances of getting into Sigma Chi. Honestly, I met none of its high standards. I was neither an athlete nor a scholar. My family was without wealth and position. My parents did not even have the means to pay my college expenses. In fact, the Tennessee Department of Rehabilitation was paying for my tuition, books, and other items. Finally, I asked myself the ultimate question, "What would Sigma Chi want with a legally blind person like me?"

I could not see to drive nor read conventional print. I was, however, able to recognize faces when they were reasonably close. I could also walk without bumping into objects. My vision problems were not very discernible from a distance. Perhaps, many of the Sigma Chi brothers had not noticed my disability during the heat and excitement of rush week. Then this hopeful thought flickered in my mind, "Maybe my handicap does not even matter to the fraternity." Was I simply kidding myself?

Jerry walked up to me, nudged my shoulder playfully, and asked, "Ready to go meet our fate?"

I replied, "Sure, why not?"

Jerry also yearned for a Sigma Chi bid. As we walked toward the student center, he and I joked and laughed to shake off our thinly concealed jitters.

We entered the center were the little boxes of destiny awaited us. As we approached the table on which the boxes rested, my heart filled with both hope and dread. I could feel cold drops of sweat trickling down from my armpits. Turning to Jerry, I said, "You go first, and then you can read mine to me, if I get any."

He said, "OK, let's see what the dealer has dealt."

Jerry had three envelopes in his box. He opened each quickly and read its contents slowly to himself. His broad, basketball shoulders sank, as he said "Well, damn! I didn't make Sigma Chi."

I said, "Sorry, man, sorry. I really am.".

Sighing heavily, he said, "All right, Bill, let’s take a look at your cards."

I knew at that moment, I had no chance at Sigma Chi, since Jerry, a tall handsome athlete and scholar, had not made the grade.

Jerry said, "You have three envelopes, too."

The first bid he read to me was from a fraternity in which I had no interest. The second was a definite possibility. He dropped the third envelope to the floor, picked it up slowly and began reading it to himself. Than he read to me, "We are pleased to invite you to become a pledge of the Beta Sigma Chapter of Sigma Chi."

I was sure Jerry was teasing me. I said, "Cut out the kidding. Who is it really from?"

"I'm not kidding you," he said. "Bill, you've made it."

I was simultaneously astonished and elated. I wanted to shout joyfully to everyone in the crowded room "I made it! I made Sigma Chi, everybody!" I did not, however, express any of my surging ecstasy. I restrained myself because my closest friend was at my side, experiencing the pain of rejection.

We walked slowly out of the student center and stood awkwardly together in the spreading shadow of the building. Jerry shook my hand and congratulated me. Then, he said, "See you later. I've got to meet a girl across campus."

I grabbed his arm and said, "Let's make a deal here and now. If you will not pledge any fraternity this year, I will get you in Sigma Chi next year."

He said "Sure, man, sure."

We shook hands again, and he went his way, and I went mine. I walked towards the football stadium for no apparent reason. I was not even a lowly pledge yet, but I had just promised my best friend that he, too, would be a Sigma Chi during our sophomore year.

On that glorious autumn afternoon, more than four decades ago, I felt truly omnipotent, as only a young man can experience. I thought, then, there was nothing I couldn't achieve. I believed at that shining moment that I could walk on the water of the nearby Tennessee River. As I continued walking toward the stadium, the brilliant sun and the river, I whispered to myself, "I'm really on my way. Nothing can stop me now, not even my impaired vision. After all, I had made it into Sigma Chi against all odds."

I had opened one little box of destiny, and its contents had been golden.

Jerry did not pledge a fraternity his freshman year. He trusted me to get him admitted to Sigma Chi during the special, brief sophomore rush interval. Meanwhile, I advanced from pledge status to full brother at the conclusion of the spring quarter; shortly thereafter, a few brothers and I began lobbying to get Jerry accepted when the fall term rolled around. Our efforts were successful!

He was made a pledge and became a brother later in the year. He proved to be an extraordinary member, involving himself in virtually every phase of fraternity life. He played intramural sports, served on various house committees, attended all fraternity parties and dances while achieving and maintaining scholastic excellence.

Jerry and I did not reside in the fraternity house. Neither his family nor mine could afford this worthwhile privilege. However, it did not significantly limit our participation in fraternity affairs.

During my junior year, though, I had to restrict my involvement in the fraternity because my mother was suffering from a progressively disabling illness. Her escalating medical expenses devastated my family's modest income. It was with much embarrassment that I formally requested that the brotherhood remove my name from the list of active members. This request was made because I could no longer afford the relatively small monthly dues.

Every month the fraternity sent a dues statement to each active member. Even though I had asked to be withdrawn from active status, I received a statement each month which indicated that my dues had been paid in full. This meant that I could continue to participate in all fraternity activities with full privileges.

I did not know at that time, nor do I know now, whether one brother, several, or the chapter as a whole paid my dues for almost two years. This entire financial matter has remained another Sigma Chi secret for all these many years. I was thankful then and grateful today for my anonymous benefactor or benefactors.

My mother had always been my principal reader in high school and now college. She recorded innumerable chapters of difficult text on thin blue, vinyl discs. I listened to the discs when I had sufficient time. (Convenient cassette tape recorders had not yet been invented.) She also read directly to me, usually late at night after returning from her full-time job. Unfortunately, her health continued to deteriorate dramatically. She had a rare, untreatable disease.

Jerry soon realized that my mother could no longer perform the heavy volume of college reading, and so he moved into our home and assumed all the reading work. Not only did he read and record text but another Sigma Chi brother, Ray, accompanied me to class to read mid-term and final examinations. Jerry remained in my home and served as my reader for two years.

In 1957, Jerry and I graduated magna cum laude. Jerry proceeded to the University of Tennessee Medical School at Memphis where he earned his medical degree. Eventually, he became a successful flight surgeon and officer in the U.S. Navy Air Corps.

I remained in Knoxville and took graduate courses in psychology while working as a guidance counselor at a local high school. I obtained my doctorate in counseling psychology from the University of Tennessee in 1964. Later that year, I was to lose all my vision when a routine eye operation turned disastrous.

Jerry and I remained friends despite distance and circumstances. We visited each other occasionally and maintained contact by phone and letters. It seemed that destiny had brought and kept us together like true brothers.

On an unforgettable, bitterly cold day nine years ago, I received a phone call from Jerry's wife. She told me, between sobs, that Jerry had died unexpectedly. He succumbed to a massive heart attack while shoveling sand on a Virginia beach where he was building an addition to his home. He was only 54.

This heart shattering news stunned me into a genuine state of disbelief. Jerry had always been strong and vital and energetic. As a physician, he had the knowledge to take proper care of himself; consequently, I was never concerned about his health. He had always been my invincible guardian. Now fate had overpowered him -- or had he engineered his deadly rendezvous with destiny?

After a while, my disbelief turned into profound sadness. Even now, when I think of him, remnants of disbelief and sorrow reappear from their hiding place somewhere deep inside me.

This year, I retired from the Veteran's Affairs Medical Center in Lexington, Kentucky, where I served 30 years as a psychologist. Now I have time to reflect upon those little boxes of destiny that slide, unannounced and often unnoticed, into our lives and affect us subtly or dramatically without our permission. Perhaps, it is not until we approach the end of life, as I am now doing, that we can look back over our shoulder, spot the arrival and then trace the consequences of those little boxes packed full of destiny.

Copyright © 1999 Bill Gross

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