Sometime in the sping/summer of 1989, Jason Lindstrom and I got
into this monster Bonneville I happened to own and journeyed over
to the village of Woodhull, Illinois to visit a friend we hadn't
seen in awhile. It wasn't much of a plan, basically we didn't
have enough gas money to go anywhere else.That person was Liz
Polansky and between her, Jason, and the random people that always
show up in a person's life, the BrotherHood was born. About the
name: it came off of a Bon Jovi European tour t-shirt that Liz's
dad had sent to her. Go figure.Years later, dozens of folks coming
in and out of the central periphery, we all still mostly get along.
Being a member of the Brotherhood doesn't involve dues, and oath,
or a midnight ritual - unless you count telling old stories in
the light of the moon over a couple strong drinks a ritual. What
does count is the attitude of belonging, forgiving, and listening.
It's basically what friends everywhere do for one another - we
just gave it a name.
A few pics for your amusement: