Skip to main content

To Be Part of The Gang

By Terri Rimmer

I remember when my sister was in high school she told me about weird initiations cheerleaders and pep squad members had to go through to be part of the squad.

The rule was after the initiation if they called you it meant you made it and if they didn’t, but just showed up at your house you were part of the team.

Such initiations were often held at the local mall and included such bizarre dares as singing a love song to an old man while standing on a bench in the mall.

Another initiation involved getting zipped up in a sleeping bag and being rolled down the mall.

And another is just too disgusting to print.

Hazing or initiations date back as far as 1905. In 1909 in Denver, CO, some members of fraternities and sororities at high schools there (about 100 members) refused to relinquish their membership in these groups.

When brought into some new group like a school or club people are naturally anxious to begin by making a good impression on the others.

The desire to initiate and be initiated is a very ancient, deep-laid impulse according to Birch organizations. At a place called Woodcraft they carefully select for these try-outs to demonstrate character and ability of the newcomer and the initiation becomes a real proof of fortitude. The trial is given to the candidate when his name is proposed for membership – posted on a Totem pole where it stays for “several suns.”

One of the requirements involves being absolutely silent for six hours the day in a camp others and the newcomers attend while freely mixing with the life of the camp.

Popular posts from this blog

Merged Life

By Terri Rimmer Born into an alcoholic family as the youngest of four girls I had no idea of the abuse that would come to torment my life for 14 years. Both my mother and father were harsh abusers, my father sexually, my mom physically. How can a young girl possibly grow into a health adolescent when what she knows about life is taught by the hands of a sick man and mother intent to poison? I may not ever understand, but perhaps that is my journey. I always knew I wanted to be a writer when in the third grade I got an A plus on a short story I wrote. I loved it and wrote every chance I got at my dadÂ’s encouragement and the feeling and dream reverberated in my soul, refusing to leave me ever. When I was 8 I was devastated to learn of my parents divorcing and to add insult to injury my mom left my sisters and me with our dad. My older sister, Cindy became my hero. She fluffed my pajamas in the dryer before bed, sewed my Girl Scout badges on my uniform, comforted me when the ...

My sister wrote this in 2003

“How My Cat Taught Me About A Higher Power” By Cindy Persico Like most of us I struggle with the concept of “Higher Power” or H.P. and my understanding has grown thankfully over the years that on most days I can feel centered and well-cared for by this Higher Power thanks to Alanon. That isn’t always the case. In 2003 my brother-in-law was killed in a car accident. Watching my sister, Joy, struggle with her grief has been particularly painful and has called into question again how to make sense out of things that seem so senseless. What good can come from this? Hello, God, Are you still there? Will you take care of Joy? She’s so scared and sure this isn’t what should be happening at all. One day I had to take Eunice, my cat, to the vet. She shivered, and shook, and cried, certain this couldn’t possibly be what should be happening at all. I reassured her as best I could; yet again had a flash that this is exactly how life feels sometimes. I’m sure that whatever is happening is all wrong...