Boyhood clubs can be ruthless. The initiations, the marginalization of others, the inside jokes, and the judgmental attitudes are all apart of young boys trying to establish themselves over and against other boys. Our club was no different.
It was called the Fignation. In my mind it has always been one word. So there it is. One word. Fignation. We were obviously avant-garde. Our name was based on a commercial ditty celebrating and advertising Nabisco’s Fig Newton cookies. It involved a creepy man singing and dancing in a fig costume. We knew the dance moves. It became an initiation rite.
Funny thing about initiation rites is that they really seek to serve only those who establish the rites. I mean . . . we didn’t have to actually be initiated because we were the genesis of the Fignation. Any and all others requesting membership were required to perform the dance sans fig costume. Honestly, the song and dance was the least of their worries. The driveway initiation was the real identifier of serious inquiry.
When one of our nemesis asked to join the Fignation the driveway initiation was birthed. A side note is in order here. Anyone we did not like was known as a Monkmayer. In my mind . . . one word. Monkmayer. Where that name came from I have absolutely no idea. Anyway, this request to join was from a Monkmayer. We had the perfect initiation.
My older brother and I lived at the end of a gravel driveway maybe an eighth of a mile long. It was a climb to get to the mailbox. To make matters worse, a crazy lady with three German shepherds lived next to our driveway. To make matters worse, she would release her three German shepherds on whomever sought to ascend our gravel driveway. To make matters worse, these three German shepherds had teeth and they would use them. It was a problem on more than one occasion.
During our Fignation council meeting to determine the Monkmayer’s request for entrance to our elite club, we concluded that a fitting initiation rite (not withstanding the dance moves) would be to climb our driveway in broad daylight. Upon delivery of this news, the Monkmayer slinked off to his lonely hole never to ask again. The Fignation, though separated by years and continents, remains true to its original five members to this day.