Bill Rohde's 40th Birthday

When I was in college, I had a best friend who was a writer. I knew one day he would write a book, and encouraged him to do so. I was so certain of his destiny; I asked if I could write the forward to the book. He, thinking this was a safe bet, made the promise that I could write the forward. I now believe this is the sole reason why Bill Rohde has not written a book – he is afraid of having to cash in on this promise made 20 years ago. Therefore, by virtue of this writ, I am absolving Bill of having to use my forward in his book.

I do, however, need to get the forward out of my system – so, here I go . . . .


Forward
By Jon Rachiele

“The Upper Decker and Other Stories about Poop” is the first book by my very talented friend Bill Rohde. Bill and I attended college together during the REM/80’s college rock heyday, as iTunes has named the era.

Bill was and is one of my best friends because 1) he always is interested in my favorite subject – me, and 2) he always has a way of saying something that will make you think about/remember forever. This same talent is readily apparent in this book.

1) My Favorite Subject
I do think the fictional character “Fun Johnny” (a wild party collegiate who sobers up in his mid-forties and now bores the pants off his dinner guests) is based loosely on me.

In addition, I do recall during our college days a very similar scene to the “Dinner for Seven in Refugio, Texas.” This scene is about seven college friends who head down to South Padre, Texas, but end up on the side of a road for seven days as their party van breaks down. In the book, Fred Trefts is eaten because of his large size and resulting long-lasting substantive value – and because he has bored the shit of the rest of the group after the first day.

In reality, two hours after our last aluminum wrapped sandwich was eaten, we did begin discussing whom we would eat first. In the end, no one was eaten and we were rescued by two drunken hicks after 12 hours of being stranded. As I recall the outcome of our “who would be eaten first” discussion, it was something like this (individuals listed in order of choice):

1. Rick Balon – The first to be eaten (I think for the same boredom reason as Bill points out for Fred Trefts)
2. Mike Andyman – at first, we said we wouldn’t eat him because he provided the van transportation, and after the 5th hour we said we would eat him because of that damn van
3. Bob Buethe – Although another close friend, I would agree on eating him. I do believe, however, he would taste like white bread.
4. Jon Rachiele – He is funny, and therefore probably tastes funny
5. Dan Bradner – being the president of the fraternity, we felt as though we couldn’t eat him. Membership has its privileges.
6. Tim Dull – Most likely to succeed, we would hold out for his certain successful future. Would you eat Abraham Lincoln?
7. Bill Rohde – you can’t eat the writer, who would write the story?

2) Bill Rohde Quotables (aka the things I will remember forever)
“Let’s beat ‘em like we beat our wives”
Every February for the last 15 years, a group of our fraternity friends heads up to Wisconsin to play broomball – the poor man’s hockey. While everyone recognizes it is less about the broomball and more about the camaraderie, these sessions always provided Bill fodder for his writings, and a showcase for insights. Being nice guys, we constantly try to figure out new ways of splitting into teams without leaving anyone with bruised feelings of being “the last one picked.” One year we played married guys, against single guys.

During our play, Bill shouts out to his team “Let’s beat ‘em like we beat our wives” to which we had to stop the game due to laughter.

“The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference”
Okay, so this isn’t an original thought – in fact, I heard it on the Gilmore Girls and Desperate Housewives -- shows I will only admit to watching because I am married. I hear this concept so much, I just want to shout, “That’s so 1988!”

We were in college and Bill, the photographer, needed a subject for his class. As I was photographed bound, gagged, and a pole sticking out of my mouth (why does art always need to be so weird?), Bill explained the concept of being indifferent.

Having just broken up with a girl friend (okay, she broke up with me), Bill was trying to explain how I shouldn’t hate her – rather I should be indifferent.

I think it was the first time that someone in a casual conversation took out a pen and paper to explain a concept to me. Bill drew a continuum of a circle and showed how close love and hate were, but on the opposite side of that circle was indifference.

“Go away and do something interesting, you’re boring me”
Bill always has a way of saying something irreverent or lacking machismo, but true. Once, when we were looking at some old pictures of when I was a freshman, Bill said, “no wonder I didn’t hang around you – you look goofy.” I hate to admit, but I was thinking the same thing.

Shortly after his mom died, Bill remarked to me how much he has a tendency to cry in various life situations. He was unsure if it was because of his mom’s death, or because he was getting older. I cannot tell you of how many times I think about this conversation as I experience a touching moment like watching It’s a Wonderful Life or watching my daughter score a soccer goal. Bill, you’re not a pussy, you are full of life which sometimes spills out as tears (did I seriously just write that?).

During college I loved wearing red converse high-tops, and thought I would wear them for the rest of my life whenever I ‘dressed down’. Just as certain that, I would be the ersatz couple with Bill for any date party when I couldn’t find a date. Ersatz is a term that Bill taught me. Ersatz means, “Being an imitation or a substitute, usually an inferior one.”

During a subsequent spring-break trip to South Padre, Bill and I followed Chad (See the “Ring of Fire” video for more details on Chad) up to Mississippi to visit his family who was spending their father’s sabbatical at a local college.

After staying a day or two, Bill and I drove all the way back to Indiana. After two weeks with Bill, we had exhausted all conversation topics. Finally, he said, “Go away and do something interesting, you’re boring me.” I think after that trip I started looking at other pairs of shoes. Too much of a good thing makes one boring or bored.

Happy Birthday, Bill
Your wife was right on with the thoughts of wrapping-up words from your friends as suitable gifts for your 40th. Having had a couple of hours to think about our friendship, I truly value you as one of my closest friends. I love how every time we get together it’s like I just talked to you yesterday.