Dear E.,
We’ve just survived another homecoming weekend, the biggest event on the university calendar, eagerly anticipated by students and returning graduates alike. Faculty and staff try to avoid going anywhere near the campus or downtown. I had to go into the office Saturday morning because I forgot to water Verde Vista’s verbena while she’s vacationing. On the way home I almost made it across Main Street in time but got stopped in traffic by the homecoming parade. Resigned to the resulting gridlock, I grabbed my camera and joined the throngs watching the parade from the sidewalk. At one point I leaned too far over trying to photograph a clown’s funny shoes and tumbled into the street just as the varsity cheerleading squad arrived, executing amazing acrobatic feats.
Thinking that anyone tumbling in their sector of the street must be a cheerleader, they picked me up and tossed me into the air. When it was my turn to toss one of the female cheerleaders, all I could do was sort of “hand her off” to one of the males. I almost got a hernia.
Next we launched into a medley of favorite cheers. I knew all of the words, of course, because of the federal law passed in 1959 that no new cheers could be written. Cheerleading squads have had to content themselves with creating novel movements for the old cheers.
For that most Spartan of all cheers—“DEFENSE!”—we grouped ourselves into a fighter jet and “flew” down the center of the street. The rest of the plane got annoyed with me because I didn’t know my part. (Was I a wing? A cockpit window? The copilot’s headphones?) I exhausted their patience so they made me the jet trail. Even though I had an important role, I felt left behind.
Finally it was time for the pinnacle of cheerleadingdom—the Human Pyramid. Since I was out of uniform, I was assigned the top spot (where I would be least likely to ruin the symmetry). Once I got up there, I noticed that I could get a fantastic shot of the parade if I just leaned back a little bit. I leaned. A valiant attempt at balancing took place below me. Heck, all pyramid schemes collapse.
I fell back onto the float behind us. Partly to avoid looking silly and partly to avoid being attacked by the now-cheerless leaders, I stood up on the float, cupped my hands to my mouth, and began shouting, “We’re number 1! We’re number 1!” I kept this up throughout the rest of the parade route despite frigid stares from my floatmates. It wasn’t until I jumped back down to the street that I saw that I had been claiming supremacy from a float sponsored by the Greek Orthodox Church.
More later,
– Lyle
Copyright © 2025 John Arthur Robinson
JOHN ARTHUR ROBINSON 