Long before I became an employee of the Vancouver School Board, I was known for two things:
a) Spending 6 years pursuing a four-year degree
b) Selling beer at the Nat
Since many people now know why the latter has met its demise, I should enlighten as to why I cherish the former.
Back in 1986, as a 130-pound 18-year-old, I was granted the privilege of pledging the fraternity of Phi Gamma Delta. Throughout 6 years of undergraduate education, the brothers were my colleagues and friends. I probably would not have discovered who I am without their brotherhood and camaraderie. After graduation, although it is hard, I do my best to maintain contact, either at the yearly PIG dinner, lunches or drinks, or at Nat Bailey (sadly, no more).
"Woodchuck” comes from a particular period when, already possessing lots of hair, my wisdom teeth had to be extracted. Growing in both impacted and pointing down, it required dislocating my jaw to get them removed, resulting in quite the set of puffed cheeks. Add on three weeks of beard growth due to an inability to touch my face, and you get the “Woodchuck”. It could have been much worse – like “Beaver” or “Weasel”. It was, and is, a name I carry proudly as a fond reminder of the two decades I spent getting my History degree.
Proudly serving as my alternate identity at parties, social events and my graduation ceremony, it became the name people knew me as. It took some people years to discover my actual name. Even today, years after completing my UBC degree, it is still easier for some people to recall the “Woody” rather than the Rob. Who cares if I’m pushing 40? It’s still endearing to me.
Thank you Brothers. In honour of my impending haircut, here’s what one looks like skinned.
Perge!
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