A&M was opened for registration on October 2, 1876. On Wednesday, October 4, 1876, 40 students and six faculty members began instruction.
- Campusology #2
With the activities of T-camp behind and the anticipation of joining the Corps before me, my wife Lara and I made our way into town so she could attend new teacher orientation with the College Station school district and I could take care of one of many other Aggie traditions. Since I was a transfer student joining the Corps, I would need to get a haircut. I stopped into Southgate Barbershop and asked for the freshman cut. As the electric clippers scraped over my head and I gazed at myself in the mirror, I could not believe how much the loss of all that dark spiked hair on top of my head changed my appearance. I didn’t like it but at least I still had my beard that maintained a huge aspect of my facial personality. But I knew that was going away soon as well.
While Lara was still involved with teacher activities, I grabbed lunch with my new group of friends I had made at ATC. We dined at a local traditional Aggie eatery near Northgate… IHOP. We ate, laughed, and reminisced about camp but I also put out feelers regarding actually joining the Corps. Everyone was supportive, of course, but what was most influential was input I received from a couple of guys who said the Corps was cool but that perhaps my focus shouldn’t be on an organization that would take up so much of my time. It made sense especially with me being an older, non-traditional student who would probably need to have a serious job to pay tuition and bills while focusing on my academics. After all, I wasn’t a kid anymore. It was sound advice and seemed to make good sense. But still, I considered the option seriously. After all, I did want to go all in and completely take advantage of the oldest and perhaps most recognized tradition in Aggieland. I wanted to see what it was like to walk around campus in uniform. I took their advice in mind for sure but my heart wasn’t ready to completely let it go just yet.
When we returned home later that afternoon, in order to make a better decision, I called my parents to see what they might have to say about the situation. Yes, I was 41 years old but I absolutely valued their opinions. They were not only my parents but my best friends. We talked about why I was going back to school and decided it would probably be a better option not to join the Corps and to focus exclusively on doing the best I could academically. Besides, I wasn’t coming to A&M to be in a student organization. I was here to advance my academic career and grow a new network of connections in the university research setting. The conversation certainly seemed to help but I continued my quest to bring in more expert advice from those close to me who really knew me and could steer me in the right direction. I called my longtime friend Justin Weyer, who had become one of my best friends during our time working at Beyond, a big event production company in Dallas. He was supportive of whatever I planned to do but once again, I came away from the conversation with his direction thinking that the Corps would be a fun organization as a traditional younger college student but perhaps it might not be best for me at this time. He even suggested that perhaps the way I felt about my hair when it was all cut off and potentially shaving my face was the way I felt deep down about potentially joining the Corps. I was apprehensive and Justin’s advice was reassuring. I felt some good direction about the matter and was leaning toward probably not joining up.
But then I got a hold of one of my best friends Peter Nguyen. Because of his position as an attorney, he was sometimes in court and unable to pick up the phone right away. We first met way back in the fifth-grade band and had been partners in crime ever since. In fact, we have an infamous photo of us busting into the high school band Christmas party wearing loafers, jeans, tuxedo jackets, sunglasses at night, and bowties but absolutely no shirts while blasting the song I’m Too Sexy on the huge jam box that I carried over my shoulder. From that moment we enthusiastically for the rest of high school called ourselves the Blues Brothers. The stunt was highly regarded by some but shunned by others, mostly the adult chaperones as the gathering was staged in the fellowship hall of the local Methodist Church. Apparently, I’m Too Sexy and the lack of shirts was inappropriate for the church setting. Yet that was only one of our more mild capers. The rest of our adventures will be reserved for another three-volume set of books that will be released at some point in the future. In any case, after speaking to everyone else, getting a hold of Peter was like a breath of fresh air. And I should have known it would be because he always had been the guy who pushed me to get the most out of life.
Back in high school when everyone else in the class was anxious and stressed out while feverishly struggling to write a timed essay response during honors English, Peter would look over at me and whisper, “You wanna take a break?” I would smile, nod my head, and then both of us would put our pens down and kick back in our seats to relax for a moment while everyone else continued nervously, glancing over at us to wonder what the heck we were doing. After a long few moments, we both would nod to each other and get back at it. From what I can remember, our teacher would only look at us and shake her head. No, we weren’t doing drugs in the bathroom or stealing cars. We were just nerdy honors students who had fun showing everyone else that we would refuse to always play by the rules. But more than that, what Peter taught me was to be excellent at whatever we did and not to take life so seriously.
I was always a humor-loving and goofy guy, no doubt. But I would stress out and become anxious just like most other students. Yet Peter had a natural way of always looking at the positive side of the world and getting the most out of life. I mentioned the movie Dead Poets Society before. Peter is a guy who truly seizes every single day. Carpe Diem! The best part about Peter is, he encourages everyone around him to do the same. So when I ended up talking with him on the phone and was leaning toward not joining the Corps, he had another idea in mind.
“Dude, I was looking up information about the Corps after I found out you were going to join,” Peter passionately began. “Did you know that this year, the Corps is going to have over twenty-four hundred members?”
“No, I guess I didn’t realize that,” I meekly responded.
“Yeah bro. It’s the biggest the Corps has been in years!” Peter continued, adding even more passion than before. “Just think about how much fun we had back in marching band and all the crazy things we used to do.” He paused before his concluding argument as memories of the amazing times we had together in the band began to surface.
“You have one chance right here to do something completely awesome, something that other people would probably kill for, in the biggest Corps in years, at a university that celebrates tradition. Don’t you think it would be an amazing experience?” Peter concluded and left me silent and dumbfounded. He was right.
Deep down, I wanted to wear that A&M patch on my sleeve more than anything. I desperately wanted to be a part of something larger than myself in an organization that pushed individuals to greatness. I needed the Corps of Cadets. I wanted to prove something to myself. Although he was miles away and busy with his own life and family, Peter recognized what it was that I truly wanted. It was not the first time he had provided me with expert advice according to his wise intuition. He had done so many times before. It was good timing too because the next day I was supposed to report for check-in. But, before I turned in for the evening, I had to deal with the task of shaving off my illustrious beard. Only then would I truly be ready.
And so, I retreated to the bathroom mirror, grabbed an electric razor, and reluctantly began the process of shaving off my beard. As the beautiful dark whiskers were somewhat effortlessly removed, I gazed at the reflection staring back at me and absolutely did not like the person I saw. In fact, I hated myself without a beard. My face was fat and colorless without any dark frame to bring it to life like it was just a few moments prior. But worse, beneath my beard, I had developed three gross moles that I didn’t realize were there until my face was shaved clean. One was located at the corner of my mouth, another was where my mustache had been. But the interesting thing was that the third one was actually above where my beard had been and I hadn’t noticed it before. Yet now, without the cover or distraction of my beard, it seemed huge and stood out more than the other two. I was disgusted and I couldn’t even stand to look at myself.
For so long, I had been the guy with a really cool dark beard and thick spiky hair and now it was all gone. All that was left was a goofy-looking, middle-aged, average man. I felt like I was Darth Vader at the end of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. My awesome and intimidating mask had been removed and all that was left was a normal, wimpy, gross-looking guy with a fat head and blemishes. If I had thought there was something special about me before, the way my head looked now, there was nothing to hide my shame. In fact, as I pondered the situation from a spiritual standpoint, it was as if God was showing me that while I might have thought I was a great Christian on the outside, underneath there was a lot that we needed to address. I didn’t completely understand that at the moment because I just didn’t want to even think about it, or even look at myself. But as time slowly passed, I got the message loud and clear.
The Corps required me to shave off the facade that had been preventing me from truly seeing myself. Whether I liked it or not, now I was getting the full unhidden perspective. God used that moment to metaphorically show me an outside reflection of what I knew I really looked like underneath. My bald head and my pale white blank face with nasty moles were simply a reflection of my spirit. While I wanted to be a glowing reflection of Christ, what I actually looked like was nothing to write home about. And seeing the look on my wife’s face didn’t really help either. She did a good job of playing off her response but it was too late. There was no question that she didn’t like it either.
I couldn’t stand it. I felt like I had lost a big part of myself, my identity, and I struggled to deal with the unknown person I saw staring back at me. I immediately became incredibly depressed. Maybe you wonder why shaving off a beard would bring on so much emotional distress. Certainly, it shouldn’t have been such a big deal. But at the time, I really wasn’t a resilient person. In fact, one of the aspects that enhances resilience is to cling to identity anchors (Buzzanell, 2010). Knowing who you are during a time of adversity can help to bring you through the pain and turmoil. In an instant, I had lost who I was. My identity was rearranged and I didn’t know how to make sense of the old man I saw staring back at me.
It was as if God was showing me there were nasty compromises in my life that I had tried to hide. Now was the time to start dealing with them. And I looked old. There was no hiding it now. I had begun to color my beard to keep myself looking young but there was no hiding that anymore because there was no longer any hair to color. It was awful and I hated it. When it came down to it, I despised the way I looked without my beard. But that was just the surface level of a quickly growing despair.
I still had no idea what I was going to do for a job. That was the cause for enormous anxiety and worry. I needed to focus on academics to take the opportunity seriously and I was worried the Corps would take up too much time. And maybe more than anything else, I was an adult, not a kid. For all these reasons, I was seriously doubting my decision to join the Corps. What I really wanted to do was hide at home until my beard grew back. But while I hated my appearance, what was done was done. I had made the personal sacrifice required to join the Corps. I was at least going to try it out to see if it was worth it. I had made a commitment to Colonel Hawes and was required to report at my designated time during Freshman Orientation Week or F.O.W.
When the day came, I drove down by myself to College Station and parked in Lara’s school parking lot because it was free with one of her lot passes on my truck. I walked across George Bush, through lot 40, and entered the Quad, the home of the Corps of Cadets. The Quad consisted of twelve dorms and other adjacent buildings mostly aligned down one long huge open courtyard. At the south end of the Quad sat a big cafeteria reserved for the cadets called Duncan Dining Center. I checked in at Duncan just like every other freshman cadet. It was intimidating standing there in a line with much younger kids. Most of them looked like they were in shape while I was there with my gut hanging over my belt and without my cool beard. At the time I was wearing jeans and a maroon A&M polo and I felt extremely vulnerable, especially without my beard. And I knew everyone around me could see the massive moles on my face. I really wasn’t comfortable. Not to mention, all around me were adult military personnel and cadets all decked out looking their best. They were completely confident and I felt anything but that. It was an awkward moment for sure. Not only was I lumpy and out of shape, but I was also old. Compared to the young cadets, my presence was definitely a stark contrast.
I’m sure everyone wondered what the heck I was even doing there. But, despite feeling incredibly out of place, I stood in multiple lines and looked around the massive cafeteria where hundreds of other freshman cadets were doing the same. I signed multiple documents and was provided a bag of materials I would need during my time in the Corps. Inside it had things like a tan cap and black shorts, both with the A&M logo. There was also a backpack looking device with a drinking hose, a maroon t-shirt, and a small booklet called The Cadence. I definitely felt like I was heading off to boot camp and this was where we signed away our rights and got the gear we’d be wearing for the next few years. And from the stories I heard from a few of my high school friends who had been in the Corps for their undergraduate experience twenty-five years earlier, I knew it would be a lot like that.
After I finished standing in lines and going through all the various points of check-in, I was introduced to a slightly older looking African-American cadet who was dressed to the nines in his khaki uniform. While most of the cadets wearing khakis certainly looked like they knew what they were doing, I’d say they were in their young 20s. This guy looked like older 20s. He said his name was Eric Holloway and that he was a member of V-1, the outfit or group of cadets I would be joining. He explained that he had spent a few years in the military and was back to finish his degree. Eric had a kind demeanor as he spoke with me. Despite his polished and intimidating military presence, I at least felt some comfort in the fact that he seemed to genuinely care about me as a person. But comparing myself to him and the other sharp looking cadets all around me who were confident in their uniforms as they greeted all the other new recruits coming in, I felt ashamed.
No question about it. I knew I was out of shape and I could not shake the thought that everyone was looking at the moles on my face and ugly egg-shaped, bald head. But, as much as possible, I attempted to suck in my gut and stand up straight. After all, I had been a firefighter risking my life to save others so I did have a reason to feel some percentage of pride, despite the embarrassment about my current appearance. Thankfully, Eric seemed to accept me for who I was. To this day, I have never forgotten his kindness toward an intimidated and awkward middle aged man who was completely out of place.
We talked briefly about our backgrounds before Eric walked me over to the dorm where our outfit was located. I was to be a member of V-1, one of two outfits with members who were all allowed to live off-campus for various reasons. V-1 was located in White Hall Dorm 10, one of the closest dorms to Duncan. The walk was not far. Once inside, we took the elevator to the fourth floor where we exited and immediately approached the first room on the right on the north end of the building. There was a big wooden door that was shut. Eric knocked and a young woman’s voice from inside said, “Come in.” Eric swung the door open to reveal a modest-sized room with big windows from floor to ceiling. Through the windows, the enormous sight of Kyle Field loomed in the distance as sunlight streamed in to illuminate the entire room. In the middle of the room, there was a female cadet seated behind a table and two cadets standing on either side of her. One female and the other male. All three looked pristine in their khakis. Eric stepped into the room and I followed. The door closed behind us and I was offered a seat at the table. I meekly sat down.
“I’m Dana Tiedemann,” the young woman seated behind the desk stated with confidence and obvious authority. “I’m your CO, the Commanding Officer of this outfit.” Dana spoke with crisp words that showcased she was not here to waste anyone’s time. She was a petite young woman with dark brown hair. I got the underlying feeling that she was not a person to mess with and had the feeling she might rip my head off if I did something wrong. With that in mind and overcome with my own insecurities, I simply nodded my head to acknowledge I was listening. I recognized there was no need to introduce myself. They already knew who I was from the check-in process and Eric had been texting them that we were coming. I was almost twice their age but I have to admit, I was still definitely intimidated by all of them.
It was most definitely the uniforms they were wearing but also the way they carried themselves. They were calm, confident, and extremely collected. I mean, I had worn a uniform myself as a professional firefighter. We even wore “dress blues” for special occasions, but that was way different. Yes, as firefighters in uniform, we had confidence, but this was just in a whole different league it seemed. These cadets, these kids, had something about them that was motivating. They were humble yet adamantly self-assured. And they were all in shape. From my perspective, there was an air of precision and excellence that set the bar extremely high in the Corps of Cadets that I had not previously experienced. Being in the presence of these kids who were much younger than me, I felt completely inadequate. I wanted to be just like them. But I wasn’t. I was lumpy, ugly, and awkward. What’s more, I was sweating profusely.
In fact, I had been so anxious about showing up to check-in in front of everyone as an out-of-shape, goofy older man that I drank a good amount the night before in order to force my body to fall asleep. My strategy was to drink heavily and fill my gut with sugar wafers late at night so the blood would leave my head and sink to my stomach as my body worked overtime to digest all that junk. I would get sleepy and crash into my bed, falling soundly asleep. It was a fantastic strategy that always worked. I definitely fell asleep fast but it had become a nightly habit.
However, there in the office of my new commanding officer, my CO, my belt was cutting into my gut as I sat uncomfortably in the chair. I squirmed in the presence of the four pristine cadets and sweated profusely because I was out of shape, dehydrated, and filled with sugar carbs. And I was absolutely self-conscious about my newly shaved pale old man face with moles. Needless to say, I was completely out of my comfort zone and I felt like a really big loser compared to these sharply dressed young men and women who looked like the pinnacle of fitness and discipline compared to me. Listening to Dana, I internalized it all and said nothing. I kept quiet as a bead of sweat ran down the side of my forehead. I hoped no one saw it but there was no way they didn’t. I wanted to wipe it off but I wasn’t going to draw more attention to it. Dana continued.
“This is Miss Scott our XO and Mister Magby is our training officer,” Dana explained as she pointed to the cadets standing beside her respectively. From the military movies I had seen, I understood that XO stood for Executive Officer. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant but I felt like Miss Scott was Dana’s right hand officer or second in charge. Training officer was self explanatory. I nodded my head at them to greet them as I continued to be silent. Miss Scott nodded with a serious look on her face to recognize my nod. She was a sharp-looking young woman with blond hair and glasses. Mister Magby raised just one hand and waved it with one sharp motion as if he was respectful but kind of playful. He was a strong-looking muscled-up guy with the typical military cut of blond hair and a stoic grin.
“And you’ve already met Mister Holloway,” continued Miss Tiedemann. I looked back at Eric and began to understand that I would no longer be able to use first names. Despite him kindly speaking to me on a first-name basis when we first met, I knew without asking that from this point forward, he would be Mister Holloway. I turned back to Dana to make sure I remembered her last name. On her uniform was a plastic name tape with a black background and white letters that said TIEDEMANN in all caps. Tiedemann. I locked the last name into my memory. From now on it’s Miss Tiedemann, I instructed myself. I felt the sweat building up underneath my shirt as another bead of sweat rolled down the opposite side of my head. I quickly wiped it off and returned to looking directly at Miss Tiedemann for further instruction. As she continued speaking I could tell that she was nice but also deathly serious. She continued.
“There’s a bunch more in the outfit that you will meet when the semester begins but we will be your leadership cadre for FOW, along with a couple others that will be here throughout the week.” Miss Tiedemann leaned forward in her chair just a bit before concluding. “You’ll see a lot of us over the next ten days.”
Ten days? I thought to myself with great concern. I’ll see them a lot? My brain continued to process the new information it had just received as my gut squeezed even more into my belt while I sat uncomfortably and pondered what I had gotten myself into. I had planned on getting a good amount of things done before school started and I definitely was hoping to line up a job. I understood FOW was a pretty time-intensive experience to get new recruits acclimated to the Corps before the academic semester began but in my meeting with Colonel Hawes, he said we would probably have a lot of free time to take care of things we needed to get done personally. I wrestled with that for a moment before finally mustering the courage to speak.
“I was led to believe by Colonel Hawes that we wouldn’t be doing much this week because V-1 is an off-campus outfit.”
As soon as it came out of my mouth I wished I hadn’t said it. Here I was the obvious older adult and yet I was the one acting like a naive, spoiled child who was whining about free time. And I hadn’t even been there one single day. I was already embarrassed with myself but I did need to clarify what the time commitment over the next few days would be. After all, I was an adult with responsibility and financial obligations. Miss Tiedemann took a moment to consider her words before replying.
“Yes, there was some miscommunication between recruiting and our outfit over the summer,” Miss Tiedemann attempted to clarify. “Some of the previous COs had run a pretty loose ship but we decided to provide you with the full Corps experience.” Miss Tiedemann paused before continuing, “After all, that’s why people join the Corps.”
I had to admit she was right. I didn’t want to join the Corps just to say I was in it and wear a uniform. If I was going to do this, I wanted to go all in. The problem was that I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I was miserable in the moment, sweating, fat, and I hated everyone looking at my nasty pale face with three moles poking out. Honestly, I was so uncomfortable that I just wanted to get out of there. While I sat there considering my options, Miss Tiedemann adjusted herself in the chair and I could tell she was kind of annoyed by my question and the hesitation I’m sure she could see on my face. There was an air of awkward silence in the room. I could tell it was a moment where I needed to be an adult and give Miss Tiedemann permission to speak from the heart. I could tell she was holding back and I recognized it was out of respect for my age and life experience.
“Just say what you were thinking,” I said meekly, knowing full well what she was about to say. If I had learned one thing over my forty years of life, it was how to read people. Discerning what people were thinking was one of the gifts that God had given me and taught me how to enhance over the years. I can pretty much read minds based on how people are responding at any given moment. From the look on her face, I could tell she wanted to comment about my appearance. “Go ahead,” I prompted her again. “It’s okay. I need to hear it.” There was a short pause before Miss Tiedemann continued.
“You’re just not what I expected,” she said respectfully, yet firmly. While she didn’t explain further, I knew exactly what she meant. I had no doubt they had seen the paperwork come in a few weeks earlier and questioned why a 41-year-old, non-military guy would want to join the Corps. I figured they had scoped me out on Facebook. On social media I looked strong and confident with a big handsome beard and spiky black hair. I had no doubt they had seen the recent images of me in a tuxedo and Lara in a glamorous evening gown celebrating in front of the media and a crowd of 500 fans during the red carpet premiere of our latest film Prepper that occurred a few months back. In those pictures I looked good but a few months had passed. I had been lazy and didn’t work out much as I ate and drank a ton of junk to ease the stress of moving and starting a brand new life. In fact, in the weeks prior to joining the Corps, I tried running just 1.5 miles but couldn’t do it without stopping to take a break. I was way out of shape and I looked nothing like my pictures online, especially without my hair and beard. I looked and felt weak. And I was. I sat there exposed to my own vulnerabilities before Miss Tiedemann and the other three cadets looking and feeling like a big, prideful dog that had just been shaved. I was embarrassed and I wanted to hide until my hair grew back.
But there I sat, the opposite of the handsome guy with a great beard and hair on social media. I was now pretty much bald with a fat old man face and gut. There with the sunlight streaming through the windows of the room, I was seen for who I really was. I was out of shape and whining like a spoiled child. I had become the exact opposite of everything I wanted to be. The little things in my life had become the big thing that held me back. I was ruled by daily compromises and excuses that made me feel better in the moment but failed me in who I had become. There before the elite group of cadets, it was never more obvious.
Perhaps I was too hard on myself. Heck, I was 41 years old and had accomplished some really cool things in my life. I deserved to kick back a bit, drink a little, and enjoy some delicious food. Most everyone around me in my life would agree. But sitting there in that room comparing myself to those cadets, I recognized that as far as the standards I had set for my life, I had not yet reached them. In fact, I would say in some aspects like my physical appearance, I had gone the opposite direction. Maybe occasionally I would be the man I wanted to be but I certainly didn’t stay there. And in that moment, the contrast between those cadets and me was never more clear. Because of that, I just wanted to retreat and make excuses to hide at home. Miss Tiedemann could not have been more correct when she called me out. I knew it and I felt like garbage; not because of her; because who I had let myself become.
After meeting with Miss Tiedemman and the others, I was escorted around to various buildings to finish up paperwork and secure uniform items. Mister Holloway helped me carry the uniforms back to the dorm and we dropped them off before I was taken to a building called The Trigon where I waited to sign my final paperwork. In a hallway that led to multiple offices, I sat down in a chair by myself and pondered what I was actually going to do. I wanted to be a cadet but felt overwhelmingly self-conscious, out of shape, and out of place. While I was sitting there waiting, two cadets in their khaki uniforms from a different outfit came down the hallway escorting a freshman recruit into one of the rooms. I recognized the young man was a recruit because he was dressed in civilian clothes and had a naive look about him like he didn’t know what was coming next, just like me. The recruit humbly asked a clarifying question and one of the older cadets answered with a condescending, half-hearted reply before sending the recruit into a room and closing the door. As the two older cadets left him and walked past me, they mocked the young recruit, sneering and laughing with each other as they departed.
“Oh yeah, it’s your world dog,” said one cadet as he joked sarcastically with the other older cadet, referring to the question of the recruit they had just dropped off. The cocky cadet continued as both cadets in uniform opened a door to another hallway and began to descend some stairs. “You can have whatever you want… for the next ten minutes.” The other cadet laughed as I watched them begin to go down the stairs. The door closed behind them and I was once again left alone to ponder my thoughts while waiting to sign the final official document. I could guess what was about to happen to that poor new recruit after ten minutes. While people were checking in and parents were still around, the older cadets were reserved, cordial, and nice. But I had absolutely no doubt that once the official check-in was over and all the adults were gone, things would change quickly. Like I said previously, I heard the stories from my buddies who had been in the Corps before me.
I don’t need this in my life right now, I said to myself as I sat there waiting to be called next into the room. I pondered the next ten days that would come before me and I thought about what might happen to that poor young recruit ten minutes from then. And I thought about what might happen to me. The leadership in my outfit seemed nice but I really had no idea. I am already miserable now. Why would I want to drag this out any further?
What weighed on me more was the fact that the Corps would take up a good amount of time, especially over the next ten days just before the semester started. Colonel Hawes had kind of made it seem like my responsibilities wouldn’t be too extensive during that time but apparently, that was not going to be the case. In actuality, after seeing some of the schedule, it looked like I’d be on campus every day, all day long. I really didn’t have time for that, especially needing to find a job, being a husband, and making that long commute. I mean, I hadn’t been a student for over twenty years and there were things I was anxious to get in order. I was expecting to have some free time, but the more I realized that being in the Corps, even as an off-campus cadet, was the real deal. It was going to be a huge commitment.
I recognized fully that Texas A&M University was one of six senior military colleges (SMCs) in the nation that prepared young officers to serve in the United States military. The other colleges were Norwich University in Vermont, The Citadel in South Carolina, Virginia Military Institute, Virginia Tech, and the University of North Georgia. These were all highly intensive elite leadership programs. Enrolling as a cadet at Texas A&M was going to be a huge responsibility and more and more I truly wasn’t sure I would have the time. I wanted to. I desperately wanted to be a part of something larger than myself. But at that moment, my anxieties and my adult responsibilities were all slapping me right in the face. After I signed the final official paper and when I was finally released for the day, I drove home pretty certain of what I needed to do.
When I arrived at the house, I drafted the following email to Colonel Hawes and CC’d Miss Tiedemann but I read it one more time to make sure it was what I really wanted to do:
Colonel Hawes,
I’m writing to let you know that I regretfully will not be joining the Corps. I apologize sir. The truth is there has been concern for some time but in my heart, I wanted to be a part of keeping the spirit and I brushed those issues aside. When I came in to get measured for my uniform a couple of weeks ago I actually planned to tell you then that I wouldn’t be able to join but I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. It came to a head last night when I shaved my beard off and looked at myself in the mirror. I look absolutely hideous and cannot stand the way I look without my beard. But more than that, with my other adult responsibilities, my participation in the Corps would significantly stress my ability to secure a job which I need to get up and running over the next ten days before classes start so I can have the prospect of income which I will absolutely need. I also misunderstood the schedule for V-1 over the next ten days during FOW. I mistakenly heard we would have a few meetings here and there but yesterday Miss Tiedemann said we needed to be prepared for all day until 6:30 pm each day with some flexible openings. I just have too much to do over the next ten days to make that happen. That was my misunderstanding. But also the drive from our new home in Calvert puts our commute at about 40 minutes and getting there on time for the 6 am start was going to be pushing it. Now with the understanding we need to be there at 5:45 am it’s truly a crunch for my wife and me as we commute together. Plus, the concern about the time commitment is showing in my wife who is nothing but supportive. However, I’m feeling the strain even before we have begun.
Colonel Hawes, I apologize to you. You have been nothing but supportive and have been one of the people who helped me know that Texas A&M is definitely the place for me. I am indebted to you sir and I’m sorry to drop the commitment I made to you. It’s not something I want to do at all. I want to be a part of the best of A&M. However, I believe it’s the best move to put this old guy in a position for success. I respect you, Miss Tiedemann, the members of V-1 that I met today, and the Corps so much that I think it would be in the best interest of everyone if I stepped back and did not join the Corps.
With greatest respect and admiration,
Andrew
I paused for a moment and then hit send. It was done. I was disappointed but I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I let the decision sit and retreated to the serene quiet and beauty of country living and drove across town to play a round of golf. It felt good. I breathed slowly and consumed all of God’s green summer pleasantries that I could while planning out the upcoming semester in my head and nonchalantly drove the golf cart down the fairway. The evening sun set, cranes swooped down gracefully and settled onto the pond, and a family of deer grazed along a patch of rough at the edge of the fairway. All was right with the world. Little did I know that quitting the Corps after I had already checked in and picked up all my uniforms was not going to be that easy.
When Texas A&M University was opened back in 1876, the location was so remote that students slept in tents and fought off wolves with their rifles. There are actually stories about both faculty and students alike being chased by wolves. Imagine simply wanting to get a college education but you might fear getting chomped or mauled by a wild animal. In August 2017, the only wild animals ravaging around campus seemed to be the squirrels but they weren’t dangerous. I didn’t consider quitting because I was scared for my life. Back in the 1800s when A&M was founded, people enjoyed some conveniences but certainly didn’t live their lives pursuing comfort. They sought out adventure. Here I was, considering not joining the Corps because I wouldn’t get to have a beard, I needed some money, and maybe I’d be crunched for time. Yet one hundred and fifty years prior, there were 40 students and six faculty members who risked their lives to get off the train at a muddy field designated only as “College Station” in order to begin something new.
I had sent the email to quit. But despite that, I too would actually begin the journey. Kristen Okamoto (2020), a professor at James Madison University in the field of organizational communication, explains that resilience should be pragmatic, meaning life should be dealt with sensibly and realistically in a way that is practical. In the moment I made my decision to drop out of the Corps before I had even really begun, I had done my best to balance my youthful desires with the responsibilities of adult life. That to me was practical. I made a sound decision. I would focus on being a husband, my academic studies, and finding a job. The problem was that in my spirit, which was the motivating heartbeat of my life, I felt a yearning to become the man I had always wanted to be. I knew it would take the discipline of an organization like the Corps to force me to grow.
On one hand, a pragmatic person might act like a responsible adult and choose not to participate in an organization that would take up a significant amount of my time. On the other hand, sometimes the only practical thing to do is to accept the situations that are difficult because in those challenges we discover new ways of rising to the occasion. On the famous arches at the front of the Quad there is a saying engraved in big bronze letters – We Make Leaders. The truth is that I desperately wanted to be a leader and I knew I wasn’t the kind of leader I wanted to be yet. I recognized that I needed help to get there. The opportunity was right in front of me with an open door. The pragmatic thing to do was join the organization that would train me to achieve my goals. But I didn’t realize that at the time.
Resilience Lesson #3: Resilience is pragmatic.
Question: How can you take a significant and real step toward becoming a better person with an enhanced ability to help people around you become stronger themselves?
-- This blog post is one chapter in a book titled I Bleed Maroon by Andrew Christjoy that is being finalized and seeks publication.
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