Originally Posted by Wolfman (Post 1805280)

WHY BROTHERS ARE FRIENDS

This was one of my first assignments as a neo in the Frat. My Dean called me late one night just days after we crossed to tell me Bro. Woods needed a ride, and to meet him at his house.

Bro. Woods was one of the oldest Bros. in the Chapter but he had been sick, so we didn't get a chance to meet him while we were on line. When I drove up to Bro. Woods house at 2:30 a.m., as instructed, the building was
dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

The area Bro. Woods lived in was once the nicest area in town but with the years it too had changed to boarded up houses and vacant lots. Under these circumstances, I think some young Bros. might have just honked once or twice, wait a few minutes, and then drove off or not shown up at all.
I had heard stories of such while I was on line.

My Dean taught me never to leave the Bros., so I waited.

I had seen too many times in my process when older Bros. would depend on Lamps and neos as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, like a set up with some visiting drunk Bros. at the meet location, we would honor the request. I always went to the door even then. The ld Bro. might be a Brother who needs my assistance, so I reasoned with myself again--don't be CAT; see what the older Bro. needs.

I walked to the door and gave it the Frat knock times. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. I thought this seemed like a horror movie in the making.

After a long pause, the door opened. A short Bro. in his 90s stood before me.
He was wearing a Royal Purple sports blazer and a Old Gold Frat hat with the
year 1941 on it. Bro. Woods looked like a Brother straight out of an Omega
History Book.

By his side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, any knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with Frat photos from many years ago.

'Would you carry my bag and box out to the car?', Bro. Woods said. I took Bro Woods stuff to the car, and then returned to assist the Bro. Bro. Woods took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

Bro. Woods kept thanking me for my act of kindness. 'It's nothing', I told him I was made right. 'I just try to treat all Bros. the same way I would want to be treated one day'. 'Oh, you're a good young Bro.', he replied.

When we got in the car, he gave me an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown please?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.

'Oh, I don't mind,' he said.

'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice'.

I turned and looked at Bro. Woods, his eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left other than the Frat,' he continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and thanked Bro. Woods for riding with me; I felt honored.

'What route would you like me to take?', I asked. For the next three hours, we drove through the city. Bro. Woods showed me the building where he had once worked as a lawyer.

We drove through the neighborhood where he and his wife had lived when they were newlyweds. He had me pull up in front of a furniture
warehouse that had once been a ballroom where the Chapter held Frat Parties back in the 40s and 50s.

Sometimes Bro. Woods asked me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. I could only wonder what stories he was not telling me.

Bro. Woods asked me to stop by the lake, and as soon as we got close he began singing Frat Songs and telling stories of how the Bro's made them. We pulled over by the lake to talk some more then Bro. Woods reached in this pocket and gave me his Frat pin and asked me to hold on to it for him. He said he was saving it for his son but his son was killed in the war and never returned home. I felt like I had been lifted out of whatever I thought Omega was before I showed up at Bro. Woods house and now I knew the true meaning of the Motto.


As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, Bro. Woods suddenly said, 'I'm getting tired. Let's go now.'

We drove in silence to the address he had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the car as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching Bro. Woods every move. They must have been
expecting Bro. Woods, who was once a well-respected lawyer back in the Civil
Rights Era.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase and cardboard box to the door. Bro Woods was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you he asked', reaching into his pocket?

'FIETTS,' I said.

Bro. Wood eyes were like precious stones; it was like he was looking into my
soul.

'You have to buy gas; you drove me around for hours he answered'.

It was my duty,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent over and gave Bro. Woods the grip and a tight
hug as tears began to run down my face. Bro. Woods held onto me tightly like I was taught by my Dean to hold Omega Dear. It seemed like I knew Bro. Woods for a life time after just a few hours.

'You gave an old Bro. a little moment of joy,' he said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed his hand once more not wanting to let go as they rolled him away,
and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me a door shut. It was the
sound of the closing of a life or the sound of a Book Shutting.

I didn't do anything the rest of that day. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if Bro. Woods had gotten an angry young Bruh, or a Bro. who was impatient with older Bros. and just dropped him off?

What if I had refused to pick up Bro. Woods at 2:30 am, or had honked once, then driven away?

Why did my Dean pick me for this Duty?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what
others may consider a small one.

A Brother may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you treated them.

Thank you, my Brothers for being my Friends... Omega life may not always be the Omega party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance to the music of True Friendship.

Bruh UnKnown
Friendship is Essential to the Soul

Originally Posted by Hoodini (Post 1810141)

LOL...I've read a story similar to this somewhere...something about a taxi driver and an old woman

Originally Posted by Hoodini (Post 1810142)

Originally Posted by ree-Xi (Post 1810321)

Now I just feel sad that this poster let us to believe that this story happened to him. He could have said that another brother told the story to him . . . .