The other day, one of my oldest friends showed up for a visit and while the two of us were catching up over canned alcoholic refreshment, I asked my friend to venture into what I would later find out was uncommon and uncharted territory for him.
The space in the kitchen between the "random assortment of junk" drawer and the “questionably loose and potentially expired medicine” drawer holds a special place in many hearts. It serves as a cornerstone of collegiate life and would otherwise appear as totally out of place and inexplicable to anyone other than fellow students or alumni. I am of course referring to the koozie drawer.
The plywood hovel of lore which is stuffed to the brim and filled layers deep and overflowing with neoprene and monogrammed letters, a place which I have distinguished as "the koozie cubby" and is the staple of any college dorm or apartment. However, this phenomena has become increasingly less exclusive as I have found in recent years that the koozie drawer has managed to find its way into the homes of well adjusted and successful adults as well.
But why would anyone need such a thing?
Growing up, the influence of my Native American heritage was pretty blatant and abundant. My grandmother descended from a tribe of plains Indians known as the Osage. One practice that the Osage exercised was a tradition known as “counting coup”, which was described as "the act of gaining prestige by a clan or tribesman through the taking of various trophies that stood as watermarks of accomplishment to other members of their own as well as various other tribes." Now, these trophies were typically physical items such as horses, valuables, produce, or any other goods that might be considered valuable. However, in the most extreme of cases, warriors of the plains tribes counted their victories in battle.
What exactly was considered an item marking accomplishment varied depending on who you asked, there was one requirement that stood fast. Risk of death or injury was required in order for a warrior to be granted the honor of having won coup and let's face it, we've all had those nights. If the individual was granted coup, he was permitted to wear or display an Eagle feather prominently to others both in casual as well as ceremonial attire, however if that same individual was injured while attempting to obtain coup he was shamed and made to paint his eagle feather red to indicate this.
Parties of remembrance were very common, a celebration in which fellow warriors would gather around and compare their number of feathers as well as share in tales of their exploits which earned them such distinctions. Now, as I am nearing the end of my college career, these traditions remain fresh in my mind every time I find myself standing around a bonfire or having beers in the living room and someone asks for a koozie.
"Where did I get all of these?" You might ask.
Through experience my friends. Be it Shaky Knees or Bonaroo, to Music Midtown or Tomorrow-land and a few weddings sprinkled in-between of which I have no hope of ever remembering, I have had some absolutely wild times and I have done battle with the best and the worst of social adversaries and allies. My koozies stand testament to my accomplishments and serve as a visual reminder to others as well as personal mementos to both my triumphs and my failures. They are my eagle feathers, and while there are plenty that are as clean as the day I got them, you should take care to notice how many red feathers or in this case, koozies fill my drawer.
