A college friend and sorority sister with whom I had not spoken in thirty years phoned after getting my contact information from a mutual friend recently.

We called Vickie "Slick" all through college. I am not sure who started calling this beautiful young woman "Slick" or why. But, the nickname stuck.

Slick (err, Vickie) and I both pledged Delta Zeta fall, 1973, when we received "open bids" from the sorority, meaning we did not have to go through rites of rush at the start of our sophomore year at Henderson State University in Arkadelphia, Arkansas. We simply received an invitation to join.

I was ambivalent about the entire sorority concept. It didn't make much sense. However, at a small state school in a small Arkansas town, clearly Greeks weren't just part of the action, they were the action.

Delta Zetas on our campus were known as the pretty, popular girls to be and be seen with. I was flattered to receive an open bid. I ignored reservations, sold out and joined.

I had been an academic achiever throughout my life, including my freshman year of college as non-Greek affiliated. That changed fall of my sophomore year.

I jokingly claimed I switched majors from business to keg parties. My slipping grades were no joke, though. I studied minimally.

I attended classes only when absolutely necessary, and even then I sometimes could not shake off effects of night-before debauchery and get myself together. I alternated between dancing close to flunking and scrambling in mad panic to do whatever professors said I must to pass.

While you could say my social life soared, quality of life plummeted. It took years to make connection between my lifestyle choices in the name of fun and often horrible states of mind. My priorities weren't exactly out of order. I lacked priorities.

I read these days scientific theory suggests the human brain remains quite immature until at least age twenty-five. Much longer for some, I suspect. Before age twenty-five, I have read, judgment is often child-like.

Self discipline isn't mastered. Grasping of life's causes and effects remains a foggy notion. I'd have fallen into the study group to support this theory.

Vickie called to see if I'd pool resources to organize a reunion of Delta Zetas homecoming weekend at Henderson State University this fall. A weird mix of emotions shot through me, along with memory flashes.

The dorm. The parties. The friendships that fell by the wayside. Laughter and sadness and bad choices. My miraculously pulling my grades out of the ditch and graduating. The guy who broke my heart. The struggle to grow up.

Do I really care about going back? Yes, to even my own astonishment.

Vickie and I have contacted about thirty-five Delta Zetas from our chapter, Epsilon Pi. Enthusiasm appears to run high for our first reunion in October.

Are feelings among my Delta Zeta sisters mixed as mine? Are college memories bittersweet? Will others gather to celebrate our friendships and fun as Delta Zetas at Henderson State University?

I'll be celebrating all that and more. I'll be celebrating we survived.