Over the summer I have been compiling my “Aggie Bucket List.” I have less than four months here in Aggieland, and there are a few key things I want to make sure I complete before I leave this December. I will post pictures to accompany every time I complete something. I’ve already done some of these things, but I just wanted to make sure it was all on here.
1. Spend time at Bonfire Memorial.
2. Leave a mark at the Chicken.
3. Start a tradition.
4. Stand under the Century Tree with someone I love.
5. Complete the Northgate Crawl.
6. Skydive in Aggieland.
7. Dunk my Aggie Ring.
8. Help someone find Aggieland.
9. Have a picnic in Academic Plaza.
10. BTHO tu!
11. Go pond hopping.
12. Visit the Observatory at the O&M Building.
13. Mug down at Midnight Yell Practice.
14. Tailgate before an Aggie football game.
15. Karaoke at O’Bannons.
16. Visit every building on campus.
Until next time, Gig 'Em.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Crazy Thing About Crazy Feelings
The deployment came sooner than we both expected. We said we wouldn’t grow close to each other for the reason that we both knew it was coming. Deployment to Afghanistan, lasting seven months. Despite this fact days, evenings, and nights were spent together. The day came and I was left here alone. It was an inevitable thing that I knew was coming; but that still didn’t stop how much the days after sucked. And that was the end of May…
It’s funny how we meet people in the most random of situations. The people we feel like we know pretty well, turn out to be completely different than we imagined, both good and bad. I like country music and I am generally reserved guy. To meet someone later on in the summer who is the complete opposite: funny, an extrovert, does impersonations, hates country… Does this seem like more of an annoyance or just someone who is not like me at all? Looking back I can say that it definitely wasn’t an annoyance. We met, we hung out, spent one of the most amazing nights of my summer together. Dinner from Layne’s, watching “Romy and Michelle,” drinking Bud Lime. Going out to the pool, talking about our lives, our families, our schools, all while drinking some Jack and Coke. Making our way to the hot tub, more talking, then kissing there under the stars. It was a beautiful night, with an amazing person. Bedtime came at 4 AM. I was overwhelmed at how fast we grew close to each other and how comfortable I was. I am still overwhelmed several days later.
Stuff like this always happens to me. Good things never last. We hung out on one of the last days of summer, during a time when they were preparing to leave the state to return back to school. Back to Dartmouth University in New Hampshire. What does this all mean, if anything at all? The thoughts, the smile, the laugh, the goofiness that usually doesn’t leave me feeling this way. But here I am, constantly thinking about it. Am I crazy for thinking this way? Am I crazy for planning a trip to New Hampshire? I am thinking logically, because obviously there is more to consider here than a simple crush. I am hoping for something good, but staying real. The texts and phone calls throughout the day don’t appease a thing. They just make me realize that yes, I am going crazy for someone; a feeling I haven’t felt in a while.
Maybe crazy is a good thing after all.
Bro, it’ll be aight.
It’s funny how we meet people in the most random of situations. The people we feel like we know pretty well, turn out to be completely different than we imagined, both good and bad. I like country music and I am generally reserved guy. To meet someone later on in the summer who is the complete opposite: funny, an extrovert, does impersonations, hates country… Does this seem like more of an annoyance or just someone who is not like me at all? Looking back I can say that it definitely wasn’t an annoyance. We met, we hung out, spent one of the most amazing nights of my summer together. Dinner from Layne’s, watching “Romy and Michelle,” drinking Bud Lime. Going out to the pool, talking about our lives, our families, our schools, all while drinking some Jack and Coke. Making our way to the hot tub, more talking, then kissing there under the stars. It was a beautiful night, with an amazing person. Bedtime came at 4 AM. I was overwhelmed at how fast we grew close to each other and how comfortable I was. I am still overwhelmed several days later.
Stuff like this always happens to me. Good things never last. We hung out on one of the last days of summer, during a time when they were preparing to leave the state to return back to school. Back to Dartmouth University in New Hampshire. What does this all mean, if anything at all? The thoughts, the smile, the laugh, the goofiness that usually doesn’t leave me feeling this way. But here I am, constantly thinking about it. Am I crazy for thinking this way? Am I crazy for planning a trip to New Hampshire? I am thinking logically, because obviously there is more to consider here than a simple crush. I am hoping for something good, but staying real. The texts and phone calls throughout the day don’t appease a thing. They just make me realize that yes, I am going crazy for someone; a feeling I haven’t felt in a while.
Maybe crazy is a good thing after all.
Bro, it’ll be aight.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Marry You and Bury You
**I've been working on this post for over a month now. It's not an update of my complete summer, but a very important part of it. I hope to write again soon.**
I walked out of the Coke Building onto Academic Plaza. It’s a gloomy day, with the talk of rain yet no sightings, at least not by me. I walked over to the Sully statue and looked at. I searched my jeans and backpack for a penny but didn’t find one. I need all the luck I can get right now.
I walked around and looked at the various memorials there in the plaza. I had nowhere to be and had so many things on my mind; it’s been one of those days. To describe it more accurately, it’s been one of those “several weeks.” I found a bench and sat for a while. I looked around as people walked by, mainly freshmen as a New Student Conference was commencing. It was one of those moments when it would have been very appropriate to cry. Of course, I didn’t.
I used this time in the day to reflect. After several months of metaphorically running, non-stop, how ironic that I stop to think at the very location in which we reflect as a student body during Silver Taps. It was a comforting atmosphere and I stayed for a bit while I collected my thoughts. I thought about this last year and how great of an experience I had serving as the Commander for B Co. Its something that was on my mind constantly ever since I left for Boot Camp over a year ago. Now, I am being questioned and I wonder, if I had to do it again would I do anything differently. Maybe minor things, but overall, no.
This is not the answer others want to hear. By others I mean outsiders; people who don’t understand buddies, memories, good bull, and earning privileges in the Corps. I hold deep animosity towards those people right now because I know that they have not had an experience that has changed their everything from the way they act, the way they think, and the way they love. The Corps didn’t make up my entire undergraduate career, but was such an integral part of who I am today. I was blessed to have had this opportunity.
As I neared the end of the semester, I couldn’t have been happier with the way things were turning out. Then out of nowhere the drama begins. It was petty. Very petty but was the beginning of my string of bad luck that has yet to end. We had dropped with our freshmen, and they were only a few weeks away from earning their shirts. Then I get word that one of my fish is dating a senior in the band.
I ask this freshman, (we’ll call her “McKenza Stradford”), about this incident in which she denies and basically swears to my face that those accusations were simply rumors. Fine, I trust her, after all she is one of my fish. No more than thirty minutes later her rumored boyfriend comes to my room and basically tells me to lay off and let her be. Seriously? This opens the can of worms as the wild-fire of rumors spreads across the band that these two are in fact dating. This is not allowed, considered fraternization, and can’t really be stopped. HE tells HER to quit B Co, so she does, and does nothing or says nothing for fear that he may get kicked out of the Corps. As the rumor continues to spread in the weeks thereafter he decides to quit the Corps himself. Both of their reputations had been ruined, so what do they decide to take it out on everyone else. “McKenza” writes a letter in which she accuses several people of wrong doing and hazing. The “How McKenza Stradford was Hazed” investigation starts. It begins with me being removed from my position as Commander, not because I was found guilty of something, but because of the accusations. So much for American ideals.
This was the end of my year. I remained optimistic because another Commander had already been chosen for next year, all my buddies helped me out through the end of the year, and there wasn’t too much to worry about at this point. We marched Final Review and spent the very last time together as a class. We didn’t know it then, but it really was the last time we would all be together.
I stayed in College Station after Final Review. I worked and just hung out with my other buddies who were also still in town. I moved in to my very first apartment on Friday, May 22. We spent the entire day getting out of the dorm and getting situated in our four bedroom at The Heights. I spent the night in my own room and with my own bathroom.
At about 6 AM the next morning I felt someone open my door. I woke up and looked to see Dalton, one of my roommates and buddies standing in my doorway. He told me to get up. I looked at him like he was crazy, still half asleep. He walked into the living room and I reluctantly got up and followed him up. My other roommate, Elliot, was already out there. What Dalton said next would change our lives forever: Jon had gotten in a wreck and passed away during the night.
I honestly did not know how to react. I was dumbfounded and I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what to say or what to do next. The next thing we did was call the rest of our buddies to let them know. It didn’t set in until I called Pedro. As he received the news he began to cry and for the first time so did I. He’s doing an internship in Kentucky and I held the phone to my ear for several minutes as we both cried together. As much as I wanted to say something, there was nothing I could say to make him feel better. We hung up and the three of us there continued to call the rest of our 19 buddies. The ones out of town, we told. The ones in College Station, we told to come to the apartment. We would tell them the news in person.
The rest of the morning dragged on as we sat around waiting on more details. People came and went as we remembered Jon and did our best to keep our spirits high. We learned later that weekend that Jon had been out with some friends and was returning to Somerville. He flipped his truck and he wasn’t wearing his seat belt. His passenger walked away from the accident. A lot of tears were shed that weekend. We would laugh and enjoy having each other there, but we were all feeling the same thing.
The funeral was set for Wednesday, May 27. We planned an on campus vigil for Monday, a Rosary was set for Tuesday, and we could experience our buddy’s funeral on Wednesday. It was a lot to take in, and even today, I don’t think we are all over it. The first priority in planning was making sure that all of our buddies were able to get back to College Station for the funeral. Everyone was in Texas except Pedro, who was at an internship in Kentucky; Eric, who went home to Wisconsin; and Cindy, who was doing Army training in Alabama. The problem with the first two was finances. An emergency plane ticket was not going to be cheap, so I made a phone call to the Aggie Band Association. One phone call to the director of the organization, asking for some guidance; he paid for both plane tickets, no questions asked. The problem with Cindy would be the fact that the military was not going to let her out; that is unless a General called them to explain the situation. That is exactly what happened, as General Van Alstyne, the Commandant of the Corps called her unit and told them to allow her to leave. For the first time, in a long time, all of the buddies were together.
Monday would be the first opportunity we would have to visit Jon in the funeral home. I remember walking in to the funeral home and seeing Jon’s casket open in the distance. I got a sick feeling to my stomach as the truth set in. He was in his midnights and surrounded by all his Aggie stuff. We cried and cried together, as one class. As we came back to College Station it was a very silent car ride. No one had much to say after seeing our buddy like that. We had the vigil in the band hall later that evening. The buddies organized it, and a few of us said some things. As we were waiting for the vigil to start the Urbanosky family showed up. We hadn’t seen them since we had first heard the news. Immediately Mrs. Urbanosky (or Mama U as we call her) broke down. She gave us all big hugs as we cried in each other’s arms. It was a beautiful vigil with about 300 people present. We laughed, sang the Spirit of Aggieland, and thanked God for allowing Jon to be a part of our lives. I’ll never forget that night.
The funeral took place Wednesday morning in Frenstat, Texas. We met for lunch at Casa Rodriguez wearing B’s and T’s. Casa Rod is a restaurant in Bryan that we have been going to since our freshmen year. The owners and waitresses there know our names, and even some know what we order. We had talked about going there in B’s and T’s and taking a picture to give to them because they’ve supported us a lot through the years. Unfortunately, we never took that picture, but we felt it was fitting to go there together, one last time. We drove out to Frenstat a little early and waited there with the family. Mama U wanted us to do a saber arch for Jon. We practiced some before and felt as if we were ready to go. As soon as I got the cue from the priest to start, I choked up as I called a ‘forward march.’ As they pushed the casket in my knees got weak. I called the sabers down half crying and immediately sat down, put my head in my knees and balled. Balled like a baby, balled next to my buddies, and balled for my buddy who I would be burying that day. The church filled up quickly, and many people had to stand outside. The support was appreciated by his family, and by his second family, all the buddies. We buried him at a private family cemetery and said thank you to all the friends, fellow Corps members, and family who came to the funeral. A lot of my fish were there, as were a lot of my seniors. We introduced both classes together so my fish have met their “grand-zips.” We smiled as much as we could trying to be happy in each other’s company. I hugged my fish and told them to take care of each other, through a cracked voice. I don’t know if I have ever cried so much in my life. To the fellow Corps members who read this, it will all make complete sense: what a buddy is, why it was such a big deal, etc. All 22 buddies sat with the family during the funeral. We were treated as if he was our blood brother, and I felt like I was. I lost my brother, my buddy, my friend, and all of us felt the same way.
Over four years ago when we joined the Corps, we looked to our left and right as we were told that these were the guys and girls we would “marry and bury.” We’ve done both. Death is an inevitable fact of life, but it hurts me to this day to think about it. I am grateful for the group of friends I have met through my experience in B Co. It’s sad to say that not everyone’s Corps experience is like mine, but I am blessed to have the buddies that I have. Jon Urbanosky was one of them. I love you buddy, and you will forever have a special place in my life. To the amazing person that Jon was, here’s to you.
I walked out of the Coke Building onto Academic Plaza. It’s a gloomy day, with the talk of rain yet no sightings, at least not by me. I walked over to the Sully statue and looked at. I searched my jeans and backpack for a penny but didn’t find one. I need all the luck I can get right now.
I walked around and looked at the various memorials there in the plaza. I had nowhere to be and had so many things on my mind; it’s been one of those days. To describe it more accurately, it’s been one of those “several weeks.” I found a bench and sat for a while. I looked around as people walked by, mainly freshmen as a New Student Conference was commencing. It was one of those moments when it would have been very appropriate to cry. Of course, I didn’t.
I used this time in the day to reflect. After several months of metaphorically running, non-stop, how ironic that I stop to think at the very location in which we reflect as a student body during Silver Taps. It was a comforting atmosphere and I stayed for a bit while I collected my thoughts. I thought about this last year and how great of an experience I had serving as the Commander for B Co. Its something that was on my mind constantly ever since I left for Boot Camp over a year ago. Now, I am being questioned and I wonder, if I had to do it again would I do anything differently. Maybe minor things, but overall, no.
This is not the answer others want to hear. By others I mean outsiders; people who don’t understand buddies, memories, good bull, and earning privileges in the Corps. I hold deep animosity towards those people right now because I know that they have not had an experience that has changed their everything from the way they act, the way they think, and the way they love. The Corps didn’t make up my entire undergraduate career, but was such an integral part of who I am today. I was blessed to have had this opportunity.
As I neared the end of the semester, I couldn’t have been happier with the way things were turning out. Then out of nowhere the drama begins. It was petty. Very petty but was the beginning of my string of bad luck that has yet to end. We had dropped with our freshmen, and they were only a few weeks away from earning their shirts. Then I get word that one of my fish is dating a senior in the band.
I ask this freshman, (we’ll call her “McKenza Stradford”), about this incident in which she denies and basically swears to my face that those accusations were simply rumors. Fine, I trust her, after all she is one of my fish. No more than thirty minutes later her rumored boyfriend comes to my room and basically tells me to lay off and let her be. Seriously? This opens the can of worms as the wild-fire of rumors spreads across the band that these two are in fact dating. This is not allowed, considered fraternization, and can’t really be stopped. HE tells HER to quit B Co, so she does, and does nothing or says nothing for fear that he may get kicked out of the Corps. As the rumor continues to spread in the weeks thereafter he decides to quit the Corps himself. Both of their reputations had been ruined, so what do they decide to take it out on everyone else. “McKenza” writes a letter in which she accuses several people of wrong doing and hazing. The “How McKenza Stradford was Hazed” investigation starts. It begins with me being removed from my position as Commander, not because I was found guilty of something, but because of the accusations. So much for American ideals.
This was the end of my year. I remained optimistic because another Commander had already been chosen for next year, all my buddies helped me out through the end of the year, and there wasn’t too much to worry about at this point. We marched Final Review and spent the very last time together as a class. We didn’t know it then, but it really was the last time we would all be together.
I stayed in College Station after Final Review. I worked and just hung out with my other buddies who were also still in town. I moved in to my very first apartment on Friday, May 22. We spent the entire day getting out of the dorm and getting situated in our four bedroom at The Heights. I spent the night in my own room and with my own bathroom.
At about 6 AM the next morning I felt someone open my door. I woke up and looked to see Dalton, one of my roommates and buddies standing in my doorway. He told me to get up. I looked at him like he was crazy, still half asleep. He walked into the living room and I reluctantly got up and followed him up. My other roommate, Elliot, was already out there. What Dalton said next would change our lives forever: Jon had gotten in a wreck and passed away during the night.
I honestly did not know how to react. I was dumbfounded and I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what to say or what to do next. The next thing we did was call the rest of our buddies to let them know. It didn’t set in until I called Pedro. As he received the news he began to cry and for the first time so did I. He’s doing an internship in Kentucky and I held the phone to my ear for several minutes as we both cried together. As much as I wanted to say something, there was nothing I could say to make him feel better. We hung up and the three of us there continued to call the rest of our 19 buddies. The ones out of town, we told. The ones in College Station, we told to come to the apartment. We would tell them the news in person.
The rest of the morning dragged on as we sat around waiting on more details. People came and went as we remembered Jon and did our best to keep our spirits high. We learned later that weekend that Jon had been out with some friends and was returning to Somerville. He flipped his truck and he wasn’t wearing his seat belt. His passenger walked away from the accident. A lot of tears were shed that weekend. We would laugh and enjoy having each other there, but we were all feeling the same thing.
The funeral was set for Wednesday, May 27. We planned an on campus vigil for Monday, a Rosary was set for Tuesday, and we could experience our buddy’s funeral on Wednesday. It was a lot to take in, and even today, I don’t think we are all over it. The first priority in planning was making sure that all of our buddies were able to get back to College Station for the funeral. Everyone was in Texas except Pedro, who was at an internship in Kentucky; Eric, who went home to Wisconsin; and Cindy, who was doing Army training in Alabama. The problem with the first two was finances. An emergency plane ticket was not going to be cheap, so I made a phone call to the Aggie Band Association. One phone call to the director of the organization, asking for some guidance; he paid for both plane tickets, no questions asked. The problem with Cindy would be the fact that the military was not going to let her out; that is unless a General called them to explain the situation. That is exactly what happened, as General Van Alstyne, the Commandant of the Corps called her unit and told them to allow her to leave. For the first time, in a long time, all of the buddies were together.
Monday would be the first opportunity we would have to visit Jon in the funeral home. I remember walking in to the funeral home and seeing Jon’s casket open in the distance. I got a sick feeling to my stomach as the truth set in. He was in his midnights and surrounded by all his Aggie stuff. We cried and cried together, as one class. As we came back to College Station it was a very silent car ride. No one had much to say after seeing our buddy like that. We had the vigil in the band hall later that evening. The buddies organized it, and a few of us said some things. As we were waiting for the vigil to start the Urbanosky family showed up. We hadn’t seen them since we had first heard the news. Immediately Mrs. Urbanosky (or Mama U as we call her) broke down. She gave us all big hugs as we cried in each other’s arms. It was a beautiful vigil with about 300 people present. We laughed, sang the Spirit of Aggieland, and thanked God for allowing Jon to be a part of our lives. I’ll never forget that night.
The funeral took place Wednesday morning in Frenstat, Texas. We met for lunch at Casa Rodriguez wearing B’s and T’s. Casa Rod is a restaurant in Bryan that we have been going to since our freshmen year. The owners and waitresses there know our names, and even some know what we order. We had talked about going there in B’s and T’s and taking a picture to give to them because they’ve supported us a lot through the years. Unfortunately, we never took that picture, but we felt it was fitting to go there together, one last time. We drove out to Frenstat a little early and waited there with the family. Mama U wanted us to do a saber arch for Jon. We practiced some before and felt as if we were ready to go. As soon as I got the cue from the priest to start, I choked up as I called a ‘forward march.’ As they pushed the casket in my knees got weak. I called the sabers down half crying and immediately sat down, put my head in my knees and balled. Balled like a baby, balled next to my buddies, and balled for my buddy who I would be burying that day. The church filled up quickly, and many people had to stand outside. The support was appreciated by his family, and by his second family, all the buddies. We buried him at a private family cemetery and said thank you to all the friends, fellow Corps members, and family who came to the funeral. A lot of my fish were there, as were a lot of my seniors. We introduced both classes together so my fish have met their “grand-zips.” We smiled as much as we could trying to be happy in each other’s company. I hugged my fish and told them to take care of each other, through a cracked voice. I don’t know if I have ever cried so much in my life. To the fellow Corps members who read this, it will all make complete sense: what a buddy is, why it was such a big deal, etc. All 22 buddies sat with the family during the funeral. We were treated as if he was our blood brother, and I felt like I was. I lost my brother, my buddy, my friend, and all of us felt the same way.
Over four years ago when we joined the Corps, we looked to our left and right as we were told that these were the guys and girls we would “marry and bury.” We’ve done both. Death is an inevitable fact of life, but it hurts me to this day to think about it. I am grateful for the group of friends I have met through my experience in B Co. It’s sad to say that not everyone’s Corps experience is like mine, but I am blessed to have the buddies that I have. Jon Urbanosky was one of them. I love you buddy, and you will forever have a special place in my life. To the amazing person that Jon was, here’s to you.
