02-04-2026, 02:43 PM
Today is the 42nd anniversary of receiving a call in the dead of night that my younger brother had just committed suicide through self-immolation. I give nothing but grace to the Meyers and the memory of their daughter. It's more complicated than anyone knows, including me. I'm four decades in and still working on getting past anger at him for doing that to my mother. Hopefully I can turn that anger to forgiveness before I see him again.
The discussion about disciplinary proceedings and student advocacy made me think back to this period in time - my junior year - when within a month of flying home to bury my brother, I was elected president of our fraternity. As president, I soon thereafter found myself in Dean Dull's office (real name!) after a run in with the KAs. The KAs really leaned into the Old South thing. We had a shipwreck party every spring where no one got hurt other than the pig with rebar run from snout to tail and slow roasted to perfection over a couple days. Or the finish on our chapter room floor after we cleared out the beach sand from the weekend. Or spring GPAs. The KAs had some sort of plantation ball and as part of their festivities they marched around fraternity row (large) dressed in grey, carrying a large stars and bars, firing a cannon off at every house on their way to the Dean's office where they would take the Institute's ultimate disciplinarian, clad in blue that day, into custody. Always made the yearbook.
They swung by our house. Many of our brothers are brothers. I remember the look on Franco's face as he said 'I don't need to be here right now' and immediately heard his best friend Ace (white dude from the north - as bad as it gets for the KAs) whip through our glass front door and in a single motion frisbeed one of those ninja stars an inch past some KA's ear right into a tree on the other side of the street. Melee ensued. Two days later, a guy named Don threw the severed pig head through a KA window in the dead of night, Godfather style.
I'm summoned to Dean Dull's office by his secretary showing up at our door during lunch and demanding to see me. Alone. Now!! I went, not with fear, but anger about what the KAs did (and said) and vowing to have my brothers' backs because they had my back when I got that call in February. Hard to explain what that is like. Middle of midterms, no sleep, pure shock, zombie-like state. Without saying a word, I had a flight home that night paid for, a ride to the airport, at least a dozen brothers and little sisters greeting me at the gate when I landed in ATL (back when you could do that), and when I got back to the house, immaculate notes from every class I had missed stacked neatly on my desk. They rotated assignments. Still don't know how they knew how to do that.
The Dean and I had an hour-long conversation in an oven of an office. He noted this was the first time I'd been in his office. He had looked me up. 'I see you are doing well here; that's good.' Then came the time to name names. I knew all the names. I lawyered up, Hoover style. (That's the AH analog - always an AH analog.) Then came a lecture on what it means to be in charge. Got it. I made a suggestion that parading around campus supporting a bunch of intolerant bigots who clung to The Lost Cause like it was a comfort blanket wasn't really a good look in 1984. In my opinion, sir. "I'll let you know. Watch your mailbox."
Relaying what had happened to the guys and gals, everyone thought I would be suspended or expelled. Whatever - I'm still in a little bit of a fugue state and no way am I giving up these guys. Finally in Box 36100, a few days later the envelope from the Office of The Dean, and his handwritten initials. Oh shit, this might get real, real fast.
"Dear Mr. Jacketree,
After careful consideration of our dilemma, I suggest that you do not have mixers with Kappa Alpha. Please keep your own pigs on your own property henceforth.
Sincerely,
Jim Dull
P.S. Congratulations on being on my good list every quarter.
P.P.S. Dr. Meyer recently informed me of your brother's passing. Let me know if you need anything."
The discussion about disciplinary proceedings and student advocacy made me think back to this period in time - my junior year - when within a month of flying home to bury my brother, I was elected president of our fraternity. As president, I soon thereafter found myself in Dean Dull's office (real name!) after a run in with the KAs. The KAs really leaned into the Old South thing. We had a shipwreck party every spring where no one got hurt other than the pig with rebar run from snout to tail and slow roasted to perfection over a couple days. Or the finish on our chapter room floor after we cleared out the beach sand from the weekend. Or spring GPAs. The KAs had some sort of plantation ball and as part of their festivities they marched around fraternity row (large) dressed in grey, carrying a large stars and bars, firing a cannon off at every house on their way to the Dean's office where they would take the Institute's ultimate disciplinarian, clad in blue that day, into custody. Always made the yearbook.
They swung by our house. Many of our brothers are brothers. I remember the look on Franco's face as he said 'I don't need to be here right now' and immediately heard his best friend Ace (white dude from the north - as bad as it gets for the KAs) whip through our glass front door and in a single motion frisbeed one of those ninja stars an inch past some KA's ear right into a tree on the other side of the street. Melee ensued. Two days later, a guy named Don threw the severed pig head through a KA window in the dead of night, Godfather style.
I'm summoned to Dean Dull's office by his secretary showing up at our door during lunch and demanding to see me. Alone. Now!! I went, not with fear, but anger about what the KAs did (and said) and vowing to have my brothers' backs because they had my back when I got that call in February. Hard to explain what that is like. Middle of midterms, no sleep, pure shock, zombie-like state. Without saying a word, I had a flight home that night paid for, a ride to the airport, at least a dozen brothers and little sisters greeting me at the gate when I landed in ATL (back when you could do that), and when I got back to the house, immaculate notes from every class I had missed stacked neatly on my desk. They rotated assignments. Still don't know how they knew how to do that.
The Dean and I had an hour-long conversation in an oven of an office. He noted this was the first time I'd been in his office. He had looked me up. 'I see you are doing well here; that's good.' Then came the time to name names. I knew all the names. I lawyered up, Hoover style. (That's the AH analog - always an AH analog.) Then came a lecture on what it means to be in charge. Got it. I made a suggestion that parading around campus supporting a bunch of intolerant bigots who clung to The Lost Cause like it was a comfort blanket wasn't really a good look in 1984. In my opinion, sir. "I'll let you know. Watch your mailbox."
Relaying what had happened to the guys and gals, everyone thought I would be suspended or expelled. Whatever - I'm still in a little bit of a fugue state and no way am I giving up these guys. Finally in Box 36100, a few days later the envelope from the Office of The Dean, and his handwritten initials. Oh shit, this might get real, real fast.
"Dear Mr. Jacketree,
After careful consideration of our dilemma, I suggest that you do not have mixers with Kappa Alpha. Please keep your own pigs on your own property henceforth.
Sincerely,
Jim Dull
P.S. Congratulations on being on my good list every quarter.
P.P.S. Dr. Meyer recently informed me of your brother's passing. Let me know if you need anything."