Delta Kappa Epsilon - University of Alabama

4 Delta Kappa Epsilon ALUMNI NEWS the sibyl, PoP, and a basement trial By John Nielsen '83, johnnielsen@hotmail.com L ouis DeShields, at 85, was usually jolly and reminiscent about his 50 years at the DKE house. Some days Pop would descend into cryptic, disjointed talk of spirits and ghosts. Several times he muttered about "Sibba from Coomee." One of the smarter living room sitters realized he was talking about Sibyl of Cumae, the prophetess in Virgil's Aeneid. The Cumaean Sibyl could see the future, and she could take one across the river to the land of the dead, and back. The founders of DKE were steeped in Greek history. They would've known about the Sibyl. Ignoring our own ignorance, we chuckled at the idea that Pop could know anything from the Greek classics. Late, one afternoon, Pop came to me in the TV room of the old DKE house. "We got to go." He whispered. I assumed he wanted his usual ride home. He surprised me as he took my arm and said, "Come on, rat now." I was amused since Pop was unpredictable at times. He led me to the basement door. Smiling, I asked, "Pop, where are we going?" "Sibba in da basement," he answered. I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Well, let's turn the light on so we don't fall down the stairs." "No! Don't need no light." He said. "Take a holt of my shirt." Curious, I held onto the tail of Pop's shirt as we descended the 12 steps into the pitch blackness of the basement. At the bottom, a bluish glow surrounded Pop. He became taller, and broader, without his stooped posture. His old sunken face refilled and his features softened. Louis DeShields had become a young man, again! I tried to back away. Pop grabbed my shirt, chest high. His younger, deeper voice said, "You gots to see da Sibba, boy." Pop dragged me across the floor, lifted me up, feet suspended, and slammed me backward into the basement wall. Next, wild-eyed, with teeth clenched, he pulled me to the middle of the room and sat me, hard, onto the floor. He leaned down, whispering. "Look, boy! Dass da Sibba of Coomee." A hole appeared on the deepest wall of the basement. A cave materialized. The rocky opening framed a hooded, old, gray-skinned woman. She spoke: "Do you have questions, boy?" "Hell yes, I have questions." I hollered. "Who are you, and what's happening?" The gray woman laughed, and cackled. "I am a Sibyl, of Cumae. You are here to answer for your misdeeds." "What misdeeds?" I argued. "I was watching TV and now Pop is throwing me against the wall! I haven't done anything wrong!" Sibyl spoke, again. "You did! YOU knocked. YOU took the pin. YOU signed your name. YOU said you'd be a brother. Then, you broke your promise!" "How did I break my promise? I'm a good DKE!" I protested. "You are guilty of neglecting the traditions." She said. "How can you say that? My dues are paid. I come around. I go to the parties. I'm even house manager!" "But you risked everything by pummeling newboys." She countered. "I've hardly laid hands on a pledge in three years, and even then, I only did it to scare them. Everybody did it. It was just for fun! Besides, it was done to me. Look… a little intimidation is part of being a newboy… a tradition!" Sibyl recoiled. "Tradition? I was there, at Yale, at Bowdoin, and the other places. I knew Chester, Shapleigh, and the others. I was here when DuPre and his friends created Psi. The goal was to create a brotherhood, a closeness, and gentlemen for a sorry world. It was never about abuse. It was about preparing for life! I argued. "Then why are you and Pop beating the daylights out of me?" Sibyl's bony gray hand flew from under her cloak and slapped my face. "Does a strike to the face feel right? Does the sting teach you anything?" "Hell no!" I yelled. "Why don't you just tell me what I need to know? All you and Pop are doing is scaring me and making me angry. Beating the shit out of me accomplished nothing!" Sibyl's old, sunken, lips parted to reveal a toothless smile. "Whip a dog to make him mean. Teach a dog, and he'll be a friend for life. Now YOU know. Your job as a DKE is to teach the traditions. " I hung my head. Pop started laughing. Sibyl told me she'd see me, again. "When?" I asked. "You'll see me when it's time to cross the river… sooner, if you anger me." She replied. That dream, and my nap in the TV room, were interrupted by someone patting my arm. Pop needed a ride home.

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