Much to my son's dismay, there was no wine to be drunk out of skulls. No pentagrams, arcane knowledge, or mysterious handshakes were shared.
Instead, there was a speech by a gentleman who had participated in the Ironman Triathlon. I have yet to figure out exactly HOW that connects to the National Honor Society (the group he'd been asked to join). But it does illustrate the power of sports here in Boomer Sooner Land.
Even the cake afterwards did not make up for the lack of ritual, mystery, or scholar-related activities...
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4 comments:
Keeef, that sounds JUST like something my son would like to do. So I have to think very, very hard about whether or not I should tell him...and Lita, you're probably right -- they ARE teenagers, after all. :D
Not even masks and feathery hats? How booring ;-P
:-D
Aw shucks. I never join a club that doesn't brand its members, at the very least.
It does seem like a waste, doesn't it? I think our society is seriously lacking in the area of bizarre ritual.
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