By my count, there are 27 people who probably should have this piece of nostalgia instead of me, but somehow (I swear I can’t remember how!), it wound up in my hands.

When my dorm phone rang on the first evening of my freshman year at University Park in the fall of 1991, I was thrilled to hear the only person I knew on that overwhelming campus: my sister’s ex-boyfriend, Steve Pattee ’95 EMS, who was starting his sophomore year. He invited me over to McKean Hall to meet his buddies, a nice gesture for this small-town girl from upstate New York whose assigned roommate wasn’t exactly clamoring for new friends. (She left school after that semester.) 

Many of the guys I met in Butler House that night had become close the previous year. They were kind, respectful, and funny, and in the blink of an eye they were my friends, too. So many still are. I’ve been to some of their weddings, have met several of their kids—some of whom also became Penn Staters and formed friendships with one another. More than 30 years later, several of us still get together regularly for reunions and tailgates. 

This was likely an end-of-year ritual, a way for them to cement their place in a group that felt special, because it was. I never dared to add my name to this relic, but I cherish having been an honorary member of this group. Thanks, Steve.