In August 1994, we pulled up in front of 4-H House, climbing out of my parents’ Caprice Classic as a pile of college girls streamed out of the house to call out hello and carry my things upstairs to Room 15.
I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into.
I grew up in a small town in southern Illinois, didn’t know what AP stood for and wasn’t sure what the Big 10 was. I chose the University of Illinois because that’s where the “good” kids from my high school went. And I wound up at 4-H House because fellow Edwards County farm girl Kelli (Lynch) Lively was two years older than me and she lived there. If the cool girl who drove a stick shift pickup lived there, it must be good.
So yes, I absolutely fell backward into a couple of the most formative decisions of my life.
We unpacked, my parents left and I turned to a group of women who showed me the way and became my best friends — through thick and thin, at the altar and the grave. In my first six months of college, I ditched pre-medicine for ag communications and the boyfriend from home for the man I’d marry.
Formative in every possible way.
4-H House, as I’d soon learn, is a cooperative sorority, which means they do all their own cooking, cleaning and self-governance. It was founded as a low-cost housing option for rural women during the Great Depression and today, even at $3,900 a semester, it remains the low-cost housing option on campus.
And sure, you’re cleaning the house and you’re cooking meals, but I loved polishing the first-floor hallway to a high shine or deep cleaning the third-floor bathroom and imagining happy friends enjoying a sparkly clean bathroom. Solid way to serve people, and a little manual labor is good for the soul. Once, I accidentally combined cleaning products and created some noxious gas fumes, so I also learned a chemistry lesson.
And I’m here to tell you that the friendships you form over a clogged toilet or a pan of pork chops that should have been done 20 minutes ago are real and don’t go away. Jane (Bickelhaupt) Adolph taught me to plunge a toilet; this winter, we hugged each other hard at her dad’s funeral visitation because, even after all these years, we still show up. Just like she hugged me at my mom’s visitation 14 years ago.
Certainly, you don’t have to be in ag to live at 4-H House, but my career has crisscrossed dozens of 4-H House connections over the years. I regularly call Karen Corrigan for agronomy stories, and Rachel (Muehling) Velasco copy edits every page of every Prairie Farmer each month. Mindy (Elvidge) Bunselmeyer heads up Illinois FFA, but she was also my iconic pledge advisor.
Then, in the fall of 2021, my oldest moved in, surrounded by the same walls I lived within. And I learned quickly that girls still squeal and run to hug each other after a summer apart. They still pile on top of each other on couches in the living room. They still make the best friends of their lives. You should see their group texts.
If any of this sounds like something you’d like, now’s the time to check it out. They’ll have interviewing weekends this month and next, where girls tour, interview and decide whether 4-H is a good fit for them. And this fall — just like the fall of 1994 — when families pull up to 4-H House with carloads of stuff and a swarm of girls meet at the curb to welcome new friends, it could be you.
For more information on 4-H House or to apply, email Brynn Boundy at 4hhouseinterview@gmail.com.