January 1981

Photo by Annie Leibovitz

Photo by Annie Leibovitz

 

We spent most of the Christmas break working on Lou’s MBA grad school applications. I helped by editing and typing the essays; my mom also proof-read. His grades are not good, so the applications focus on his ability to persevere, overcome adversity, be creative, entrepreneurial, and just do whatever it takes to achieve goals in life.  He certainly does have a lot of examples to demonstrate success in those areas, and has management experience as the steward for the fraternity house kitchen.  Louie took on that role because it pays toward his room and board, plus it is a thankless job nobody else really wanted to do. The steward manages the cook, organizes the cleaning jobs, approves the menu, and maintains food and supplies inventory within a budget.

Cookie was an older woman who had been the fraternity house cook for years and years. As steward, Lou was her boss, and she didn’t appreciate his suggestions for improvement. He thought some things that she did were gross and some of the food she made was disgusting, and wanted her to change. She decided it was time to immediately retire instead. So, I did the house cooking while he ran an ad in the newspaper and interviewed applicants for her replacement. He hired the new cook just based on looks; she is absolutely gorgeous. She cooks fine, but I almost throw up when the brothers give her a round of applause after every meal. Most afternoons, she lounges on the couch watching General Hospital with the guys in the living room instead of prepping for dinner. Do I sound jealous? Maybe.

For me, school is great, and work is actually a blast. Bruce and I usually work the 7am-3pm shift together on the weekends. The managers tried splitting us up because we have too much fun, but that didn’t last long because the other people they tried to schedule with either of us kept calling in sick and bitching about getting up early on the weekend.   I leave home very early and ride my bike to the hotel, go for a swim, and take my shower there. My favorite part of the day is in the early morning before we punch in for our shift when Bruce and I hang out and talk in the stairwell up at the roof level. We have really become best friends. I spend almost as much time with him as I do with Lou. Sometimes more.

Bruce jokes around constantly, and we laugh all day long behind the desk, but I think sometimes the humor is just a cover for what is actually a difficult life. As close as I feel to him, we are so different in so many ways. He outright ridicules the music I listen to, and I cringe at most of the heavy stuff he likes. The only musical common ground we have is The Beatles. When John Lennon was killed last month, I was saddened, but Bruce went into mourning. I’m not as intense about things as he can be, but there’s something about a person who feels so deeply that I admire. I wish I had his passion… about John Lennon, about music, about his art, about his ex-girlfriend, about anything. I like a lot of things, but is there anything that would bring me to the depths of emotion he feels? Either good or bad.

Click to Play Imagine – by John Lennon [audiotube id=”yRhq-yO1KN8″]

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