“Hoop, where’s the stop? Where’s the stop, Hoop? WHERE’S THE STOP?”
I jolted out of my sleep to hear Ben yelling these words in the bed above me in our tiny bedroom at the Hillsdale House in Washington, D.C. Before I could ask if he was okay, Ben slammed his hands on the mattress, quickly climbed down his ladder, and started pushing against the bed as if he were trying to stop the entire bunk from moving. The greatest surprise? He slept through the entire performance.
Silence followed. After a second, Ben tilted his head at me: “Hoop, what just happened?” I lost it and laughed harder than I ever had in years. As it turned out, he had a dream that we were in a car zooming towards a cliff. He was trying to stop the vehicle and save our lives— an odd explanation for me to hear at one-in-the-morning.
That’s Ben Wilson: a chaotic man who is often unpredictable but one of the best friends and roommate I could have ever asked for, even if he can’t fathom that Little Caesar’s is Detroit-style pizza.
Ben, while supportive, can be rash. The bunk bed in our WHIP bedroom stood next to an old furnace with a hideous glass lamp sitting on it. The curtain covering our massive window hung dangerously close to the lamp. I warned Ben about this potentially hazardous situation multiple times in the first few days of WHIP. Yet, early one morning, Ben wanted to see sunlight, so he yanked open the curtain. Crash! The glass lamp was no more: smooth move, Ben.
Ben can put his mind to anything. Through his dedication, he achieved incredible feats. After we returned from WHIP, Ben wanted to get serious about living a healthy lifestyle. I watched him plan out that process: a rigorous workout regiment and a diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables. In the following six months, I watched Ben undergo a complete transformation. When he visited me in D.C. this past summer, Ben looked the happiest and healthiest I had ever seen him. Indeed, he was living life to the fullest.
Perhaps one of my best moments with Ben was when I ran for class president last March. As I felt myself under an immense amount of stress, hearing many positive and negative opinions amid a competitive election, Ben never left my side. He became one of my strongest advocates and always offered support to calm my paranoid mind.
He sat next to me during the Legacy Dinner, where we learned the class president election results. I couldn’t eat my dinner because of my nerves, yet Ben patted my shoulder and said, “Hoop, you got this. Quit worrying.” He was right: I won, and it was one of the best nights of my college career to date. Ben was there for it all. He expressed his pride in my hard work running the campaign and put Jordan Peterson on my radar to consider for commencement speaker with the class board.
There are countless stories I could share about Ben, but the nightmare tops them. We have a brotherhood, one I hope will last well past the finale graduation brings.
