Celeste Tribune

by Samuel T Griffis

I guess it was in the fourth or fifth grade when I was first made aware of such a thing as an initiation. We were sitting in class when we heard laughing and yelling coming from outside the classroom. There was so much commotion, the teacher allowed us to go to the windows to see what was going on. I’ll be honest, what I saw was something I just as soon they quit doing by the time I entered high school.

There, standing in the street, were two parallel lines of boys with belts in hand. And just to the left of them was one line of younger boys looking a little nervous. “What’s happening?” we asked the teacher. “Oh, that is just part of high-school initiation. The freshmen boys are going to run through the “belt line.” she replied.

We could hear the pop of the belts as they found their mark on the freshmen as one by one they ran as fast as they could through the line. We watched as some swiveled from side to side or held their hands behind them trying to lessen the severity of the blows. There was a little giggling in the room, but I don’t think it was from any of the boys. Our only thought was one day it would be our turn to go through the line. And didn’t the teacher say the belt line was “ a part of high school initiation?” What else could there be?

I found out a few years later, when as a freshman, an upper-classman handed me a piece of paper. “What’s this?” I asked.

“It is a list of things for you to wear to school Wednesday,” he answered. “Oh yeah,” he continued, “don’t forget to bring a shoeshine rag and some brown and some black polish.” I looked at the list: woman’s wig, skirt and blouse or dress, lipstick, rouge, mascara, powder, nylon hose, high heel shoes and padded bra.

I showed up at school Wednesday and joined the other freshman boys who were also adorned in various female attire. What an attractive bunch of cross-dressers we were, but we had a little to learn about being a lady. One of our first lessons was to walk in high heels. We stumbled and staggered our way to the first class, most of us walking on the side of our shoes to keep from falling. We fell into our desk seats and sat attentively as our female teacher pointed out that we might want to put our legs together when we were sitting. Or, at the very least, put on some gym shorts.

In between classes we spent the day shining upperclassmen shoes. We endured being pushed and shoved as we teeter-tottered our way around the school, being harassed and made fun of, and doing push-ups at the command of a senior. But, at least at the end of the day, phase one of initiation would be over. Phase two would be the next night in the gym.

As we gathered in the gym, we wondered why the lower windows were covered. We soon understood as we were told to strip down to our underwear. We were then blindfolded for the duration of the initiation, guided to a spot and instructed to stand on a metal mat used for cleaning mud off of shoes. Tonight, though, that was not the purpose of the mat.

You see, it was rigged to a gizmo with a crank that when turned would send electricity not only through the metal mat, but also through the body of the metal mat standee. It must have been a hilarious sight as the initiators watched us jump straight up and scream as the volts coursed through our near- naked torso.

Next we were grabbed by the hand and run through the gym blindfolded only to be let go of when we ran head-long into a tackling dummy used for football practice. The initiation elation continued. We were placed standing on a bench with our hand resting on the shoulder of someone on each side of the bench so we could maintain our balance. The bench would be lifted as high as possible by some guys on each end of it. When prompted, we were to jump off the bench, but not to worry, we would land on mats so there was no chance of being hurt.

I felt myself going higher and higher as the bench was lifted. The bench started wobbling the higher it got. Soon, I could no longer touch the shoulders of the guys I was using for balance. I was blindly flailing my arms through the air as I struggled to keep from falling. Then came the command, “Jump! Jump!” I took a blind leap of faith, only to land immediately sprawled facedown on the gym floor. The sorry suckers had only lifted the bench a few inches off the floor while gently moving it from side to side to make it wobble. The guys I used for balance had simply squatted slowly to the floor until my hands no longer rested on their shoulders, thus producing the sensation of being lifted high in the air.

The frivolity kept going as we drank from a bowl filled with lemonade and Baby Ruth candy bars. Close your eyes and try to visualize how appetizing that looked. We were given hot sauce to eat until our mouths burned, then offered water laced with alum to quell the burning in our throats. That concoction immediately caused our mouths and throats to feel numb and drawn up. The ingenuity of the upperclassmen was amazing as they kept coming up with things to do to us, most of which I can’t tell here.

Finally, the initiation was over. We had done it! All in all, it hadn’t been that bad, even kind of fun when you really thought about it.

And the dreaded belt line? Well, it had been discontinued. What a shame. It had always been such a big part of the initiation tradition. But maybe, just maybe, if we lobbied hard enough we could get it reinstated-------------next year!