Washington State Magazine

From the cradle to the grave: Top photo: Cougar-in-training Isaac Hammond visits Friel Court in the arms of his father Travis '01. Above: For the family of Bruce Fritch '76, Cougar ties are family ties. Each year, the University handles a small number of requests for permission to put the Cougar logo on headstones. Photo courtesy of the Fritch family.

When Bruce Fritch ('76 Ag.) of Snohomish passed away in 2003, his family decided to memorialize his love for his alma mater by putting the Cougar logo on the back of his headstone.

Fritch had made great friendships at WSU and found Pullman to be a home away from home, says his family. His fondness for the school lasted long past graduation.

"It just made sense," says his brother Randy Fritch ('79 Ag. Eng.). "All the kids have graduated from WSU, and it's a pretty big part of our lives."

For good reason, universities try to create environments where students are surrounded by a cohort of like-minded classmates, providing a sense of safety and attachment, says Arthur. "If there's a cohort surrounding a student, the student is going to last in school longer. I think WSU figured that out a long time ago. The interpersonal relationships and the bonding and the emotional side of being connected to the school are things this university has done well for a long time."

Wayne and Barb Bradford left Pullman in the late 1950s, but even now they think of WSU every day, every time they climb into their 2002 Mini Cooper, which they call their "Cougar Cooper." Barb ('58 Ed.) didn't want to paint it, but the more Wayne ('58 Ed.) looked at it, the more sure he was. "It just had to be red. That's all there is to it," he says. "But the top was white, and it just cried out to be silver or grey."

Once the colors were set, the rally stripe along the body with the letters "WSU" and the Cougar logo on the gas tank lid came easily. Barb now happily drives it to the grocery store and expertly fields questions from the curious. Last summer the couple polished it up for a British car show in Bellevue.

Wayne has a dream of one day bringing the Cougar Cooper to a football weekend in Pullman. "I'm hoping that one game we can put Butch through the sunroof and drive him onto the field," he says.

When it comes to cars, most people make their WSU statement in a subtler way: with their license plates. Last year, 11,246 people either purchased or renewed WSU plates. (UW alums only bought 4,581.)

Maybe you have one of those plates, and maybe there's a stack of WSU sweatshirts in your closet. Or you might buy your granddaughter a crimson cheerleader uniform and a Barbie to match. Maybe you have a Cougar welcome mat and a Cougar flag in your yard. You might even have a Cougar room in your basement. But even if you have all of these things, you're not really trying hard enough.

Look at Al Sorensen, ('89 Soc. Sci.), who has a life-sized concrete cougar peering from a flower bed in front of his Hall Drive home in Pullman.

It looks so real, that a Pullman police officer reported it and called for backup, says Sorensen. Another officer recognized it as the Sorensen's 300-pound lawn ornament and called off the investigation.

"He must have been new," says Sorensen, explaining that the tan-painted cougar has been in place for about a year, ever since he and his wife Shona bid on it during a local auction. "It was our anniversary present to each other," he says.

Sorensen was practically raised on campus. He came with his family to Pullman at the age of five when his father joined the faculty at WSU. The school has always been part of his sense of self, he says. "Once you're in the Cougar family, you're always in the Cougar family."

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