Dave Wright Writes

  My Fraternity Saved Me from Myself by Dave Wright “Place your hands on the table in front of you and keep your head down.” A bright light bore through the edges of the blindfold I was wearing. The room was filled with cigar smoke. Someone in a hoarse voice said, “Name the founding fathers.” I stammered the names I had memorized as a FarmHouse Fraternity pledge. It was the beginning of fall quarter, 1973. “What year was FarmHouse founded?” another voice demanded. “1905.” “Keep your head down!” shouted someone in the back of the room. My head had not moved a fraction of an inch since I had been escorted into the room. “Now, your final question. If you are able to answer this question, you will be initiated as a full-fledged member of our fraternity. Repeat The Object.” This shouldn’t be that hard, I thought. In those days—unlike today—I had a keen memory. When I was in ninth grade, I memorized the entire periodic chart with the atomic weights of each element to fou...

  Strange Conversations with Strangers by Dave Wright A Walmart Encounter I was waiting in line at the Walmart checkout. The bald man in front of me wore scuffed Army surplus boots, tattered blue jeans, a camouflage coat, and a Wild Willie beard that hung to the middle of his chest. He turned to me and said, “I haven’t been home for Christmas in years.” The woman in front of us had a shopping cart that looked like she had purchased a sample of everything in the store. We had time. “Why’s that?” I asked. “Been overseas snipin’,” he said casually, as if every other person I had met was a professional killer. “Then spent a few tours when nobody knew where I was.” The man could see that he had my attention, so he continued. “Got transferred to military police. Started out as a guard and worked my way up to managing a unit in no time. I’m used to tellin’ people what to do—and they do it. One of the guys in the unit says, ‘You think you can do that ‘cause you’re white.’ I sa...