A very important message from The Bob.

Hi everyone. I know I haven't done a very good job of keeping this blog updated, but sometimes life just sort of gets in the way, and little things like blogging get pushed to the back burner, then pushed to a farther-back burner, and then they fall off the stove top entirely.

However, a very important issue has given me a reason to pull that hypothetical oven away from the wall and pull a greasy, dusty morsel out from its dark hiding place.

As any of you who are long-time readers will know, when I was in college, I joined a fraternity. Specifically, the Theta Rho chapter of Alpha Tau Omega at Truman State University.

After three semesters at Truman, I didn't have much of a reason to stick around. I had a few friends, but I had other friends at other schools (like Mizzou) and when I wasn't reading or writing papers for my classes, I was researching transfer requirements with a move to Columbia planned in the not-too-distant future. Truman just wasn't the place for me. I didn't fit in. I didn't have a place I could go and just be myself. Surely at a school as big as Mizzou, I could find some sort of niche - somewhere to belong.

When Andy Roberts, a Chem 100 lab partner who would eventually become my big brother, suggested I come hang out with this group of guys he was running around with, I took a chance. It remains one of the best decisions I've ever made.

Being an ATO taught me (unintentionally) about so much that wasn't covered in the classroom. ATO taught me that respect is earned, not given. It taught me the importance of being there for each other in good times and in bad. While many people may have just seen ATO as a place with weirdos who had awesome theme parties (party in the pants, anyone?), what was less obvious was that these guys were there for me, no matter what.

When I turned 21 on a Monday night in October of 2000, it was Matt Haggans who got up from a really great Monday Night Football game and bought me my first legal beer - a pint of Guinness.

Two nights after that, while I was still drunk, it was a group of ATOs who convinced me to go to an AGD date dash at the local roller rink. The AGD who was my date that evening is still my friend today, even though I hadn't the slightest idea how to skate.

When I had nothing better to do on an Easter Sunday in Kirksville, Andy Stevenson and Dan Newcomb dragged me (and a case of beer) out to Hazel Creek to go fishing.

When I needed help with trigonometry and statistics, Cameron Moore came over to help me salvage my academic career.

When I needed people to act in a short film that served as my senior thesis, Joe Moccia and John Becker had starring roles.

And when I presented that not-suitable-for-any-audience film to a panel of faculty members, even more ATOs filled the audience and cheered wildly at the appropriate times.

When I decided that I wanted to work at the campus radio station, my little brother, Zach Lechner, sat in with me during my first shift. He made sure I didn't break any FCC rules and played all the right spots at the right times.

We had a lot of great fun, but my ATO brothers were also there for me in not-so-good times.

When one of my fellow SAs went missing, my brothers were there for me. And when the worst possible outcome - suicide - became a reality, the news was broken to me by Paul Stock, who, even though there was a really great party happening at the house that night, took the time to sit with me, talk with me, and make sure I was okay.

When I was totally burned out from being an SA and had absolutely no motivation to do anything at all, I quit my job on campus and moved in with Aaron Baker, Heath Coles, John Klein, and Joe Moccia. They helped me get my life back on track by being positive influences. Cheesy as it sounds, it's totally true.

When I finally did graduate, I was part of a group I like to call the unlikely trifecta: myself, Matt Cowan, and Joe Ruth. While I can't speak for Matt, I know Joe and I definitely struggled to graduate. And we did it - together.

After graduation, when my dad's health was in decline, it was Jay Peterson who kept me company on the phone during my long drives to and from the hospital. When my dad died, one of the lowest points of my life, Harry Harris and Phil Spear were there for me at the visitation and funeral. And within a few days, a card arrived - signed by everyone who was working at the house one weekend. They had taken the time to organize their efforts and purchase, sign, and mail me a sympathy card. Anyone who knows my brothers knows what a huge achievement this is.

And a few months later, Brian Dale and Harry Harris helped me acquire my current job.

These are just a few examples of what ATO has meant to me, and what it continues to mean to me. And I know that many of you who read this blog also have fond memories of that house on Mulanix Street, and the nutjobs who lived there.

That's why I'm writing this - the house needs a sprinkler system. And because we're a relatively young chapter (only 32 years old), we don't have a ton of money sitting around. So we're asking you to consider donating to our cause.

It doesn't have to be much. Every little bit helps.

If you've ever dated an ATO, loved an ATO, or had a good time at an ATO party, please consider helping us.

What happens if we can't raise the money? Well, there's a very real chance the chapter could cease to exist, as the requirement for a sprinkler system is one that has been imposed on us by the national organization, and failure to comply could result in the revocation of our charter.

So please, give us a few bucks so future generations of Truman students can have their own ATO memories.

Thanks.