I was amused to learn last fall that my son Alex was rushing a fraternity in his first year at the University of Arizona. Alex was the most independent of my children, the nineties’ version of Jimmy Dean. His senior year in high school was a challenge because he rebelled against order and narrowly escaped expulsion for missing classes. As graduation approached, the Dean of Men told me Alex wasn’t a good citizen this last semester and might not receive his diploma. But he did.
My son told me that he had chosen Kappa Alpha because it fit his philosophy and he felt as though he belonged to the brotherhood he found there. I was intrigued by the whole notion that Alex was even remotely interested in structure and camaraderie, so with the help of my wife, a sorority sister, we encouraged him to join.
Throughout the pledging process I had my doubts that Alex would be accepted into a fraternity, yet he proved me wrong. With great excitement and pride he called me one day to announce he was a Kappa Alpha brother. For my wife and I, this was welcome news and a proud moment. Anxious to share Alex’s accomplishment, we invited him to his grandparent’s house soon thereafter so he could tell them about this new episode in his college life.
As we sat down to talk that evening, I announced that Alex had something he wanted to share. When Alex told them that he had been accepted as a Kappa Alpha brother, my father’s eyes gleamed with pride and astonishment. "That’s my fraternity," my father boasted. With that, my ailing father jumped up from his chair and grabbed the most recent Kappa Alpha directory to show Alex the chapters he belonged to and the two he had helped start. Their newly discovered bond consumed the evening as they shared their Kappa Alpha experiences and college triumphs with laughter and hugs.
I never knew my father belong to a fraternity; he never told me. Alex was accepted as a Kappa Alpha brother on his own merits because he did not know of his legacy. Had Alex not pursued joining a fraternity in earnest, I may not have ever known about my father’s association with Kappa Alpha. That December night, watching the two brothers bond, is a bittersweet memory for me. My father died suddenly thereafter, and Alex took his own life on January 11, 2004. Alex was unable to outmaneuver the black knight and force him from the board,* unable to find an alternative solution to many, what may now seem trifle problems. Alex never told me about his pain; I never asked. Alex was buried with both his and his grandfather’s Kappa Alpha badges.
* from Night Falls Fast: Understanding Suicide by Kay Redfield Jamison (Alfred A. Knopf: NY, 1999) , photo courtest of Clayton Frey
