Most people have no idea how close I came to dropping out of college or, at the very least, transferring.
When I arrived at the University of Tampa in the fall of 1987, I was looking forward to a new chapter in my life, but I had no real idea of what to expect. Unfortunately, my first semester was nothing short of miserable. I was struggling financially to the point where even buying something as simple as laundry detergent was out of the question. Making friends wasn’t coming easily, and to top it off, I had the roommate situation from hell. These challenges compounded, leaving me feeling isolated and questioning whether I even belonged at the school. The only thing I had going for me was my academics, but that just made me lonelier.
What I didn’t know at the time was that someone else on campus was going through nearly the exact same thing. He wasn’t enjoying his college experience, he was struggling financially, and, by some wild coincidence, he also had a terrible roommate situation.
It’s funny to think back now, but the very first Black student I interacted with during our freshman orientation party was this same person. We exchanged a quick hello, shook hands, and talked for a few minutes before parting ways. And then, for almost a month and a half, we didn’t speak again. We had both arrived in August, and that orientation party was at the end of the month. It wasn’t until sometime in October that we reconnected, and to this day, I still don’t remember exactly how it happened. But somehow, we did—and from that moment on, we became each other’s biggest resource.
We started going to the cafeteria together, hanging out all the time, and actively seeking each other out even though we lived in different dorms. There was an immediate bond, a sense of camaraderie and brotherhood that made an otherwise difficult college experience bearable.
Then, things took a turn for the better. One day, he told me he was moving out of his dorm and into another room in my dorm. He asked if I wanted to move in with him and two other guys. I jumped at the opportunity to escape my terrible living situation.
And then something magical happened. When spring semester rolled around, the two other guys who were supposed to room with us didn’t return to school. That meant we suddenly had a room meant for four people, but only the two of us lived there. And, for whatever reason, the university never assigned anyone else to the room. It was just us, and it turned out to be the best thing that could have happened.
We had an absolute blast that semester. Since he had family in Tampa, he would often take me off-campus to spend time with them, eat home-cooked meals, and just enjoy a break from dorm life. When spring break came around, he traveled home with me and my good friend to Arkansas. We even entered a talent show on campus together. Our friendship had gone from two struggling students trying to survive college to something much deeper.
By the time our freshman year ended, we had become inseparable. So much so that he invited me to spend a few weeks with him in New York City at the beginning of the summer. That trip cemented what I already knew. We weren’t just friends anymore. We were family.
To this day, he always jokes that we have known each other longer than we haven’t. Since 1987, we havebeen through our fair share of trials and tribulations, but like true brothers, we have always been there for each other when it mattered most.
And so, with that, I have to take a moment to say ”Happy Birthday to my brother from another mother.
Frank, I hope today is an amazing day for you.
Comments
Post a Comment