Letter to My Younger Self: Larry Angel Obias, Embry-Riddle ’08

Letter to My Younger Self: Larry Angel Obias, Embry-Riddle ’08

Young Larry,

It’s your future self here. Yes, this is real so pay attention. Now, I won’t keep this short—I write to you as the version you will be twenty-one years from now so I’ve learned a thing or two but I promise it matters. So, pause for a moment. Pause the burgeoning reflex you’ve developed to incessantly scroll, a nasty habit that fills quiet seconds with unnecessary noise. Stay with me here. What are you really missing otherwise?

Let’s be honest—there’s nothing on that feed you haven’t already seen in some form. It’s highlight reels, comparisons, subtle pressures dressed up as inspiration. It nudges you to question whether you’re doing enough, moving fast enough, becoming enough. That kind of noise isn’t helpful—it’s distracting at best, corrosive at worst.

In its place, let me offer you something much more valuable: a glimpse of what’s ahead, and a few truths that will steady you along the way.

Soon, winter break will end. You’ll leave sunny Los Angeles and board a flight back to also sunny, albeit humid, Daytona Beach, returning for the spring term of your freshman year at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University. You’ll come back with a quiet confidence—you’ve found your footing. And with that confidence comes a pull: an interest to go Greek. You’ll follow this interest, discover and ultimately join the ranks of the men of Phi Delta Theta.

That decision will matter more than you can possibly understand right now. That singular decision will leave an indelible mark on your college years—and you.

It will be your brothers who help you understand: the people who tell you difficult truths, without malice, are the ones who care about you most. When someone has the courage to be honest with you, don’t shut them out. Listen—especially when it’s uncomfortable, especially when it challenges you. Those moments will refine you. They’ll sharpen your judgment, strengthen your character, and reveal what real friendship looks like.

Second—and this won’t come easy for you—accept that people enter and leave your life exactly when they’re meant to. Some are there briefly, others for the long haul. Both matter. There will be seasons full of laughter, connection, and shared experience. There will also be distance, drift, and change as life pulls people in different directions. That’s not loss—it’s movement. Don’t let proximity define the value of a relationship.

Now, while people will shape your journey, there’s a place that will come to mean just as much: The Phi Delt table in the University Center—“The Table.”

In many ways, your life will mirror it.

Sometimes it’s full—loud, alive, overflowing with stories and energy. Other times it’s quiet, just a few passing through. There will be days when you barely have time to stop, when a quick nod replaces a conversation before you’re off to the next responsibility.

Treasure all of it.

One day, you’ll look back on that table fondly and from it, find deep comfort in the memories made there—with so many different people, across so many moments. Those memories will steady you, especially when Florida Mu faces hardship during your time.

You’ll remember the brothers who once sat across from you as Phikeia, trying to squeeze in a last-minute interview with an an active member—men you would later stand beside as they reached that indescribable moment of fulfillment, that uniquely Florida Mu realization that they had finally earned the letters on their chest. You’ll remember being the one to read them The Bond of Phi Delta Theta for the first time.

And for some of those same men, the memories of that table will carry even greater weight. They will offer comfort in the hardest moments—when you and your brothers must wear the Badge of Mourning and add their names to the Chapter Grand.

To those men, and to the memories you were privileged to share with them:

In Coelo Quis Est.

But understand this—your story won’t be defined by loss.

There will be reunions, celebrations, milestones that bring everyone back together. Moments where time collapses and it feels like nothing has changed, where the energy carries you right back to the table—or to the house on PGA Blvd—as if you never left.

Hold onto those just as tightly.

Every high and every low belongs. The wins, the setbacks, the unexpected turns—they all arrive when they’re supposed to. Enjoy the highs fully, but don’t rush past the lows. There’s meaning in both, and they will shape how you come to understand friendship, growth, and sound learning beyond academic excellence.

Now, one last caution.

You’re growing up in a world built on comparison. It’s not accidental—it’s designed that way. But your path is your own. What’s meant for you will come in time. Be patient. Stay grounded. Support the people around you without measuring yourself against them.

Focus on who you are becoming.

Phi Delta Theta will play a defining role in that process. It will call you to live a life of Rectitude—to build yourself up while helping others do the same. Let your choices be guided by the values you and your brothers hold each other to: integrity, kindness, Sound Learning that extends beyond academic excellence, and accountability.

It won’t be easy. The world is loud—and it’s getting louder. Small problems will feel like mountains if you let them. The noise will try to pull you off course.

But you won’t be navigating it alone.

You’ll be a member of the Crew of the Good Ship Phi—men who will steady you when you drift, challenge you when you falter, and celebrate with you when you succeed. They will help you stay on course as you work toward becoming the best version of yourself. So, welcome aboard and enjoy the ride.

With the benefit of perspective,

Larry Angel Obias, Embry-Riddle ’08
Bond #111 (RHO!)