The Sweetheart of an AOII

Walt and JoAnn (Rutter) Russell

AOII house—circa 1956 and 2006

(September, 2009) As they wheel my father’s casket out of the church, the white linen cover rests in

striking contrast to the blood red of the single long-stemmed roses that had been lovingly placed on top.

(September, 1985) Rushing back to the dorm after my first AOII meeting, I call my mom to describe in

detail the pledge ceremony, the schedule of events for fall quarter and the air of excitement as one of

the senior sisters announced her engagement.

With a chuckle, my mom chimes in with the melody of the song they had just sung at the night’s candle

passing. It was the same tune emblazoned in her heart’s memory since her own engagement nearly

thirty years earlier:

“There’s a longing in the heart of each AOII for the one who lives in her dreams…”

Had she smiled as she was carried back to her days as a sorority girl in the 1950s? The mandatory study

hours, official coffee dates and nightly lights out…She had often shared with me, stories of tanning on

the sundeck, football games in sub-zero weather and clear recollections of crying herself to sleep after

having to cut so many “great gals” during rush.

Her college sweetheart was an engineering student and basketball player named Walt, tall and quiet

with a dry wit. He had finished his service in the Korean War and was grateful to be attending MSC

compliments of the GI Bill. He was a little older than the other fellows and in her eyes, much more

dashing, with a certain swagger about him. Fate had arranged for the two to meet in chemistry class,

creating lab partners of Rutter and Russell as per an alphabetic seating chart.

Greek life for Walt was a short-lived one, lasting exactly as long as it took for an upperclassman to order

him and the other Lambda Chi pledges to scrub the fraternity basement floor with their toothbrushes. If

he wanted to blindly follow silly orders, he’d say, he would have stayed in the Army.

“Someone to share every sorrow and care, just a regular fellow it seems…”

After college, the young couple married and dedicated their lives to the values they held dear: those of

faith, hope and charity. They raised six children while moving around the state with his job, building

family, friendships and careers and always giving back.

Over the years as time and location permitted, mom would bake a pie for the yearly pledge/alum A-O-

Pie night, tally votes during rush week or volunteer to serve as an advisor or on the house corporation

board. My dad would be by her side to set up tables for Founders’ Day, let the plumber in to the AOII

house over the summer when there was a leak in the pipes, and console mom as she arrived home from

tallying votes at fall rush, still crying for all those great gals who had to be cut.

Who knows how much of my father’s dedication to the house could be attributed to some deep

admiration for good old Alpha-O and how much was simply a declaration of “I love what you love” to his

sweetheart for life. Whatever the motivation, he pitched in without complaint and earned his stripes as

a IIOA of the highest order.

“For the red and white colors are the ones she loves so. They’ll lead him to her someday, that I know.”

Last summer after my father was diagnosed with cancer, my parents’ home was filled with an

outpouring of calls, cards, home-baked cinnamon rolls and potato salads from AOII girls near and far. My

blood sisters (who did not have the good fortune to be AOIIs) would often shoot “that look” at each

other as my mom or Aunt Peggy (the family’s first initiate) would mention that the AOIIs would be taking

care of breakfast the next day or bringing over dinner for the extended family.

It’s okay that they don’t quite get it. I’m not really sure any of us gets that part of the sorority

experience that they promise you as a pledge among the pandas and roses and pearls—the promise of a

sisterhood for life. Maybe it only really exists in places like Bozeman, Montana, or among women of that

generation?

“For he loves her so and for him, she would die. He’s the sweetheart of an AOII.”

On entering the church for my father’s funeral, I was met by the loving embrace of Bev Townsend, who

was a collegiate with my mom, an advisor to me, and the true embodiment of a Rose Award recipient. I

overheard her asking someone if they would be seated in “the AOII section.” How touching to look over

the heads that filled that section: gray-haired ladies who were childhood friends and later pledge sisters

of my mom, dyed-haired women of my generation who knew her as an alum, even a few highlighted

heads of recent graduates who’d appreciated her service on the corporation board in recent years.

As the service came to an end, the priest announced that “certain people” would now be placing a single

red rose on top of the coffin. One by one and without fanfare or pretense, the sisters silently paid

tribute to the widow and her man, forever an AOII girl and the sweetheart of an AOII.

--Donna Russell Arguedas, Alpha Phi ‘85