Student Bonfire 03—Building a bridge
According to an announcement made just after we arrived at stack (and doesn’t that word sound wonderful) over 500 Aggies worked on Bonfire 03. These young students and former students knew they were clearing land, felling trees, moving logs, and building a stack. They knew they were “rebuilding the tradition.” As they were rebuilding, they were also building a bridge to help reconnect the greater Aggie family. That bridge was almost as beautiful as the fire that burned to once again light the night sky.
My trip over began in late afternoon. I met my son and a friend at his apartment, and we headed to Bonfire. Since it was still fairly early—about 6:30, we decided to try to find Hot Rod Hill. Our arrival there quickly showed us the amount of effort by these young volunteers—remember that many of these students not only worked long hours, they also invested their personal debt for seed money for the project. The parking was much better than the pasture was had to park in last year. A few neighboring landowners were also making some spare money by charging people to park on their land. Here during the short wait for a bus, I saw the first of those Aggie Bridges.
A man probably in is mid thirties was in line, wearing his Bonfire pot from long ago—and at his side was a small blonde haired girl—perhaps three years old—with her own “pot”—a small, yellow plastic, child’s hard hat. It was a snapshot of what Bonfire is for the Aggie family—a bridge that connects past, present, and future.
The bus ride was short, and the conversations showed that at least half the people were “veterans” of off campus bonfire—and most of us were glad not to be in the monumental traffic jam that snaked across the county last year.
As we got off the bus, I saw my first glimpse of stack, and it took my breath away. Even partially obscured by trees, it was warm, glowing with lights, and for me the only word to describe it was beautiful. At this time there were probably five thousand or so—it seemed the crowd would be about the same as last year. But the people kept arriving—one busload after another. First we walked a full circle around the perimeter. I wanted to see it from every angle.
One announcement thanked the Governor of Texas and another state official for actions that helped the Aggie family all be there for Burn. We soon met the first group of my son’s outfit. They had centerpole, and again you see a bridge. My son was so proud of these fish—although technically they are not “his” fish now that he is finished with his corps years. But he was greeting group after group of them—congratulating them on centerpole and congratulating them on the Corps Brass they would be getting at some time during the weekend. Here was another bridge—my son who had just left stack a half hour before the collapse, the last of fish to build an on campus stack—beaming with pride for a new group of fish who have made Bonfire a major part of their bond to the Aggie family.
Due to many people not arriving early, there was a major delay as they told us thousands were in line waiting for bus service. So we waited—and the crowd continued to pack in. The wait was long, and yes, at times boring. But the crowd itself became entertainment. I saw couples with babies in arms, couples obviously in their retirement years, fresh faced fish with 07 on their pots, many, many, in their mid 20’s, and some people with the family dog. One was a sheltie and with a little imagination it was like seeing a miniature version of Rev. Impromptu yells would pit one side of the giant family circle against those in another area. There was even the side drama of one of the television mobile vans that managed to be stuck so firmly that we saw three rescue attempts fail—one by a pickup with a chain, another by a wrecking truck, and a third by one of those giant wreckers that haul big rigs down the highway. Someone may have some explaining to do to a station manager about misplacing the van.
Then a pathway was cleared and first there was sound. “Some may boast” floated to my ears, and singing the Spirit, the torch and the others who were going to be inside perimeter arrived. The Fido group were leading the way, and I recognized many of the faces, but packed arm in arm right behind them were others—all not really separate units, but rather a united block of Aggies. You could see the pride and love on their faces as they sang. The torches circled stack three times, and this seemed to almost be in slow motion. But then stack lit.
Wow. The sight of those logs wrapped in a blanket of leaping fire was priceless. But equally priceless was the warmth—the wave of heat that embraced the crowd. That was the feeling I remembered so well from my early 70’s versions of Bonfire. One instant the night air is cool, and the next instant, you are wrapped in heat. With the intensity of that blaze, you would think that it would almost instantly have burned up. That was not the case—a tangible sign of how well it was built.
Then the Aggie family joined in the traditional yells. It is hard to estimate a crowd while you are in the middle of it, but the volume of the yells seemed twice as loud as last year. As the Aggie family sang together—both the War Hymn and the Spirit—I was so proud of the young men and women who refused to quit and who made this event a reality.
Since I had a significant drive afterward, we left soon after Burn and Yell. Here the logistics of getting thousands out at the same time were difficult. One of the hired security was really rude, and it rightly seemed that the wait for a busses would be long, so we opted to take a nighttime stroll back to Hot Rod Hill. So did many hundreds of others. It was a long, long walk, but amazingly, the crowd was still cheerful even in the face of the difficulties getting home. And here again the Aggie Bridge was evident. One couple in front of us had two small girls—I would guess the children were two and five. Dad would carry one on his shoulders, but that would leave mom holding the hand of the other. Even with my slow pace of walking we were gaining on them. I had just asked my son if he thought the couple would let someone help them (some people don’t like strangers carrying their children, and some kids won’t go to strangers) when a fast walking group got to them first. The biggest and strongest student soon had the second child in his arms, and that young couple and ten of their closest nameless friends, moved on ahead in the darkness. Once a couple passed us jogging—and the husband and wife were both in their 60’s. Another group we could hear singing (not loudly, but happily) as they approached. As they got even, it was the Fido fish—trying their best to get back to the quad as soon as possible. In the long time it took us to walk—only two busses headed for the lot passed us—so I know we got back more quickly by walking.
It was midnight as I left my son’s apartment—we had stopped at Sonic for a limeade—and headed back to Temple. Since I had skipped both lunch and supper, I stopped at the McDonald on George Bush to get a giant coffee and a light meal. Here there were two tables of young Aggies—from their dress and pots some of the builders. I was wearing my Bonfire 03 shirt and as I waited for my order—one of the youngsters came up and started visiting. His eyes were glowing and he said—Were you there, and wasn’t it beautiful. This was a tough looking young college man, yet his words were the same as mine. We throw that term beautiful out so much for lesser accomplishments, it seems not to say enough when we really meet beauty. I thanked them—and I thank all students. I thank those who are still in debt for last year’s beginning. I thank those who invested their own money this year, I thank the people who allowed this on their land, I thank the organizers and the workers, and I thank every student who fought through the apathy that some have this year, and who fought through the logistical problems of transportation to be together in a massive celebration of the Spirit of Aggieland.
Bonfire 2003 was impressive. Yes, there were transportation glitches, but if it were easy, everybody would have one. I got home about 2:30, and found out that Centerpole was still standing at that time.
Way to go Student Bonfire! To the Aggie family, plan on being there next year—expect some glitches, but seeing this large event is worth all the small difficulties. Hopefully the final bridge will be a return to campus, but even if this never happens, Student Bonfire 04 will be bigger and better. The improvements from 2002 to 2003 were incredible, and I have to believe that soon, Student Bonfire will either incorporate most of the missing pieces of old Bonfire—or that with the eventual end of litigation—a request will be granted to move the event back on campus.
Gig’em and Beat the Hell outta tu.
According to an announcement made just after we arrived at stack (and doesn’t that word sound wonderful) over 500 Aggies worked on Bonfire 03. These young students and former students knew they were clearing land, felling trees, moving logs, and building a stack. They knew they were “rebuilding the tradition.” As they were rebuilding, they were also building a bridge to help reconnect the greater Aggie family. That bridge was almost as beautiful as the fire that burned to once again light the night sky.
My trip over began in late afternoon. I met my son and a friend at his apartment, and we headed to Bonfire. Since it was still fairly early—about 6:30, we decided to try to find Hot Rod Hill. Our arrival there quickly showed us the amount of effort by these young volunteers—remember that many of these students not only worked long hours, they also invested their personal debt for seed money for the project. The parking was much better than the pasture was had to park in last year. A few neighboring landowners were also making some spare money by charging people to park on their land. Here during the short wait for a bus, I saw the first of those Aggie Bridges.
A man probably in is mid thirties was in line, wearing his Bonfire pot from long ago—and at his side was a small blonde haired girl—perhaps three years old—with her own “pot”—a small, yellow plastic, child’s hard hat. It was a snapshot of what Bonfire is for the Aggie family—a bridge that connects past, present, and future.
The bus ride was short, and the conversations showed that at least half the people were “veterans” of off campus bonfire—and most of us were glad not to be in the monumental traffic jam that snaked across the county last year.
As we got off the bus, I saw my first glimpse of stack, and it took my breath away. Even partially obscured by trees, it was warm, glowing with lights, and for me the only word to describe it was beautiful. At this time there were probably five thousand or so—it seemed the crowd would be about the same as last year. But the people kept arriving—one busload after another. First we walked a full circle around the perimeter. I wanted to see it from every angle.
One announcement thanked the Governor of Texas and another state official for actions that helped the Aggie family all be there for Burn. We soon met the first group of my son’s outfit. They had centerpole, and again you see a bridge. My son was so proud of these fish—although technically they are not “his” fish now that he is finished with his corps years. But he was greeting group after group of them—congratulating them on centerpole and congratulating them on the Corps Brass they would be getting at some time during the weekend. Here was another bridge—my son who had just left stack a half hour before the collapse, the last of fish to build an on campus stack—beaming with pride for a new group of fish who have made Bonfire a major part of their bond to the Aggie family.
Due to many people not arriving early, there was a major delay as they told us thousands were in line waiting for bus service. So we waited—and the crowd continued to pack in. The wait was long, and yes, at times boring. But the crowd itself became entertainment. I saw couples with babies in arms, couples obviously in their retirement years, fresh faced fish with 07 on their pots, many, many, in their mid 20’s, and some people with the family dog. One was a sheltie and with a little imagination it was like seeing a miniature version of Rev. Impromptu yells would pit one side of the giant family circle against those in another area. There was even the side drama of one of the television mobile vans that managed to be stuck so firmly that we saw three rescue attempts fail—one by a pickup with a chain, another by a wrecking truck, and a third by one of those giant wreckers that haul big rigs down the highway. Someone may have some explaining to do to a station manager about misplacing the van.
Then a pathway was cleared and first there was sound. “Some may boast” floated to my ears, and singing the Spirit, the torch and the others who were going to be inside perimeter arrived. The Fido group were leading the way, and I recognized many of the faces, but packed arm in arm right behind them were others—all not really separate units, but rather a united block of Aggies. You could see the pride and love on their faces as they sang. The torches circled stack three times, and this seemed to almost be in slow motion. But then stack lit.
Wow. The sight of those logs wrapped in a blanket of leaping fire was priceless. But equally priceless was the warmth—the wave of heat that embraced the crowd. That was the feeling I remembered so well from my early 70’s versions of Bonfire. One instant the night air is cool, and the next instant, you are wrapped in heat. With the intensity of that blaze, you would think that it would almost instantly have burned up. That was not the case—a tangible sign of how well it was built.
Then the Aggie family joined in the traditional yells. It is hard to estimate a crowd while you are in the middle of it, but the volume of the yells seemed twice as loud as last year. As the Aggie family sang together—both the War Hymn and the Spirit—I was so proud of the young men and women who refused to quit and who made this event a reality.
Since I had a significant drive afterward, we left soon after Burn and Yell. Here the logistics of getting thousands out at the same time were difficult. One of the hired security was really rude, and it rightly seemed that the wait for a busses would be long, so we opted to take a nighttime stroll back to Hot Rod Hill. So did many hundreds of others. It was a long, long walk, but amazingly, the crowd was still cheerful even in the face of the difficulties getting home. And here again the Aggie Bridge was evident. One couple in front of us had two small girls—I would guess the children were two and five. Dad would carry one on his shoulders, but that would leave mom holding the hand of the other. Even with my slow pace of walking we were gaining on them. I had just asked my son if he thought the couple would let someone help them (some people don’t like strangers carrying their children, and some kids won’t go to strangers) when a fast walking group got to them first. The biggest and strongest student soon had the second child in his arms, and that young couple and ten of their closest nameless friends, moved on ahead in the darkness. Once a couple passed us jogging—and the husband and wife were both in their 60’s. Another group we could hear singing (not loudly, but happily) as they approached. As they got even, it was the Fido fish—trying their best to get back to the quad as soon as possible. In the long time it took us to walk—only two busses headed for the lot passed us—so I know we got back more quickly by walking.
It was midnight as I left my son’s apartment—we had stopped at Sonic for a limeade—and headed back to Temple. Since I had skipped both lunch and supper, I stopped at the McDonald on George Bush to get a giant coffee and a light meal. Here there were two tables of young Aggies—from their dress and pots some of the builders. I was wearing my Bonfire 03 shirt and as I waited for my order—one of the youngsters came up and started visiting. His eyes were glowing and he said—Were you there, and wasn’t it beautiful. This was a tough looking young college man, yet his words were the same as mine. We throw that term beautiful out so much for lesser accomplishments, it seems not to say enough when we really meet beauty. I thanked them—and I thank all students. I thank those who are still in debt for last year’s beginning. I thank those who invested their own money this year, I thank the people who allowed this on their land, I thank the organizers and the workers, and I thank every student who fought through the apathy that some have this year, and who fought through the logistical problems of transportation to be together in a massive celebration of the Spirit of Aggieland.
Bonfire 2003 was impressive. Yes, there were transportation glitches, but if it were easy, everybody would have one. I got home about 2:30, and found out that Centerpole was still standing at that time.
Way to go Student Bonfire! To the Aggie family, plan on being there next year—expect some glitches, but seeing this large event is worth all the small difficulties. Hopefully the final bridge will be a return to campus, but even if this never happens, Student Bonfire 04 will be bigger and better. The improvements from 2002 to 2003 were incredible, and I have to believe that soon, Student Bonfire will either incorporate most of the missing pieces of old Bonfire—or that with the eventual end of litigation—a request will be granted to move the event back on campus.
Gig’em and Beat the Hell outta tu.