Excellence, integrity, leadership, loyalty, respect, selfless service. These Core Values are displayed on the six main entrances to the Memorial Student Center.
- Campusology #8
I didn’t know the term at the time but what I had just set myself up to do by quitting the Corps was called “punch.” I joined the Corps by checking in, signing forms, attending meetings, and picking up all my uniform items on day one. To get out of the Corps, I would have to go through the humiliating and annoying process of going back through each of the buildings and administrators to turn things in and get papers signed in order for them to officially release me. I would need to get all my papers “punched.” While being in the Corps is a voluntary commitment, it is most definitely an engagement that both the Corps and the university take quite seriously.
The day after I emailed Colonel Hawes to resign, I found myself back on campus once again with a representative from V-1 who escorted me around to each of the key buildings on the Quad to sit and wait for the adult military administrators who could sign my papers and send me on my way. I couldn’t even muster the confidence to wear an A&M polo. I simply slipped on my favorite comfortable Star Wars t-shirt again and found myself on campus. The guy who led me around was a kind young man from Korea who I was instructed to call Mister Jun, even though I was leaving. Until I got my last paper punched, I was officially still in the Corps. Mister Jun was newly married in his late 20s, incredibly nice, and completely understanding that I was quitting because he had lots of adult responsibilities himself. He was empathetic about why I was punching but I felt terrible that he had to be there. He was walking me around in his uniform on an extremely hot day and was missing out on his lunch break just so I could quit. That didn’t feel good. But Mister Jun didn’t have one single mean thing to say and patiently waited with me at each stop. Thankfully, he was actually encouraging of the decision I was making. With him being married, he understood the sacrifice in time commitment the Corps would take.
Still, I felt really bad about it. Once again, there was an amazingly disciplined cadet in his crisp uniform and then there was me, the out of shape, whiny, quitting, loser. I hated myself even more for being in that situation. I was pretty sure I was making the right decision based on my upcoming academic focus and the way my bare fat face looked but I didn’t really feel like I would ever be anyone’s hero. The most difficult thing about the experience was looking into the faces of the adult military administrators and the cadets in leadership to tell them I was quitting. Worse was trying to convince myself it was the right thing to do. Beyond that, it was becoming more difficult by the minute for me to walk down the Quad in the middle of hundreds of cadets who were training to excellence.
While I kept my head high and continued to rationalize my decision, on the inside I felt like complete garbage. No one else would ever think badly of me. Everyone was supportive and understood why I was quitting the Corps. The problem was, I wasn’t okay with it. But by that point, I had already sent the email to Colonel Hawes and gone around to sign most of the paperwork. The last thing to do was return all of my uniform items. Mister Jun and I entered White Hall (Dorm 10) once again and took the elevator to the fourth floor. He instructed me to wait outside the room where I had first met the officers of V-1 while he stopped in for a private chat. I stood in the staircase hallway where I was left completely alone for a moment to consider the weight of my decision. Standing there by myself in front of a huge wall of windows that went from floor to ceiling, there was no escaping the incredibly inspiring view of the Quad from high above. Left only to my own thoughts, I looked down over hundreds of cadets drilling enthusiastically below. I silently gazed at them from my position with an awesome panoramic view.
I stood there in awe and wonder watching new cadets in rank-and-file columns being trained by older cadets in uniform. I heard the cadences of officers calling out and large groups of cadets repeating the phrases, loudly answering in unison, “Yes sir!” The sounds of drums beating in the distance echoed off the buildings and reverberated through the windows right in front of me. It was as if God himself brought me up to this elevated position to gain perspective. What I was witnessing was the exact experience I had always wanted. Yes, I came to A&M to grow as an academic. But more than that, I came to grow as a person. Recognizing that the Corps could be the place where that might actually happen, I once again pondered my decision to quit. I was a strong, stubborn personality that had accomplished a great deal in my life. I had graduated from college, been a professional firefighter and paramedic, an award winning filmmaker, and celebrated teacher. But I also recognized that I wasn’t quite the man I wanted to be. It was never more obvious as I looked down below me to examine the young men and women being trained to discipline themselves. Up there above them from a separated and isolated perspective, I was simply observing what I was about to leave behind. As I was processing everything, Mister Jun reappeared with a load of my gear and we headed back down the stairs on our way to turn in my uniforms. I grabbed some of the clothes from him to lighten his load. On the ground floor, we stepped outside and I found myself enduring a long, humiliating walk down the Quad past all the cadets I was about to leave but desperately wanted to be like.
I had already signed most of my paperwork in order to punch. All the officers in my outfit and the administrators of the Corps knew that I was quitting. Now, I was just dropping off some pants, shirts, shoes, boots, and hats. We reached the Uniform Distribution Center (UDC) and went inside, passing rows and racks of military clothing with green and khaki colors as far as the eye could see. I couldn’t help but notice a scent that came with the environment. It smelled awesome like a military surplus store with a mix of leather and polish.
We arrived at a counter in the back where a young, white, female student worker and an older African-American woman were folding clothes and placing them neatly into baskets. Mister Jun explained that I was punching and we placed all my uniform items on the counter. Without much ado, the two women began scanning my items back into the system while another male student worker entered and took the uniform items somewhere in the back. The workers had clearly done this many times before with other students and it seemed to be no big deal. I stood there at the counter silently, contemplating my decision in the quiet of my tortured mind. It didn’t take long for all my uniforms to officially be returned and put away. After a few minutes, the older woman pushed a white sheet of paper toward me across the counter.
“It says here we got everything back,” she said without seeming to care much about the process. “Sign here.” I didn’t say anything in return. I just stared down at the paper placed before me on the counter. Mister Jun didn’t say anything either. I looked down at the paper for a very long time knowing it was the last piece of the puzzle before I could go free. Then slowly, I looked up at the older African-American woman, bringing my eyes up until they met hers. Without saying anything, I stared right into her face. She was looking right back at me. We held each other’s gaze for what seemed to be a long moment. While the years upon her face were certainly showing, the other feature within her eyes that came across without any doubt was that of wisdom, experience, and understanding. I stood there looking at her without saying a word. And then, recognizing the weight of the situation, the woman spoke.
“You don’t want to quit, do you,” she said knowingly. I couldn’t believe she saw right through me but I was absolutely glad that she did. Still unable to decide which direction I really wanted to go, I replied with the only answer I could muster.
“I don’t know,” I said as I continued to look right into her face for all the answers. She seemed to have them.
“I could tell the moment you walked in here,” the woman explained. She paused for just a moment before continuing. “Why don’t you just go sit down over there on the bench and think about it for a moment.” Conflicted as I was, it sounded like a solid plan as I really wasn't sure what I should do.
“But I’ve already given you all my uniform items and they’re put away,” I weakly stated, feeling bad about being a 41-year-old man who had entered burning buildings, cut injured people out of mangled cars, successfully taught hundreds of kids, and premiered films to crowds of hundreds of enthusiastic fans yet was standing there whining and undecided. Here I was now holding up people who had hundreds of other cadets to take care of. But the wise and kind woman quickly set me straight.
“Honey, that doesn’t matter,” the woman stated kindly yet firmly. “We get out and put up hundreds of uniform pieces every single day. We can get yours right back out.” She pointed to the bench before continuing. “Just go sit down, take your time and figure it out. Don’t worry about us for one second.”
Surprised, humbled, and grateful, I walked over to a bench in the room and sat down. “Thank you…” I offered to the woman not knowing her name. Understanding where I was attempting to go, the woman offered back, “Nancy.”
I took a long deep breath and then responded, “Thank you, Nancy.” Mister Jun remained at the counter but looked over at me to assess the situation. I looked back over at him and apologized.
“I’m sorry man,” I offered. “I know I’m being a huge pain and I’ve already turned everything in but I want to make sure I’m making the right decision here.” Mister Jun assured me it was no problem and I could see the sincerity on his face.
“Why don’t you call your wife,” he suggested. “You know I’m married and being in the Corps as a married guy is a team effort. Make sure it’s something you both feel is right.”
It was definitely appropriate direction but I was absolutely certain what my wife would say. She’d tell me she would support whatever decision I made. But in the hopes of getting more insight, I called her up and told her exactly what was going on.
“Babe,” said my wife with her usual loving and reassuring voice. “You know I support you no matter what you decide.”
It was the kind of sentence she had stated many times before during our marriage and it carried the same emotion as it always did. I was a lucky man. No, “lucky” wasn’t the right word because luck had nothing to do with it. I was a man truly blessed by God and I was extremely grateful. But it really didn’t help me decide either way. I thanked her, told her I loved her, and hung up, still uncertain of what I should do. I glanced over at Mister Jun and then over at Nancy and the student worker who were once again engaged in their other tasks.
I looked around at the larger-than-life pictures hanging on the wall of cadets in their uniforms, standing together with pride in their eyes as they marched and stood as one cohesive unit in the stands of Kyle Field. They were iconic and seemed ageless. I listened to the sound of senior cadets walking in their boots as their spurs hit the concrete floor inside the UDC. I couldn’t see them from where I was sitting but I already knew what they looked like. I had seen them outside and watched them from a distance. They walked with a confidence that I wanted to walk with myself.
As I sat there alone on the bench in the back of the UDC pondering the moment, I remembered the character Maverick from the movie Top Gun. Growing up I had always wanted to be like him. He was cocky, confident, and larger-than-life. Yes, he was a fictitious movie character but I yearned more than anything to wear a uniform and live with gusto and passion as he did. I had patterned a lot of myself after his characteristics and had actually lived some of that out in real life. I loved how Maverick would buzz his fighter jet past the control tower and get called in to be yelled at by the commanding officer. Years prior, I had done something similar when I did donuts in the fire department parking lot in my Mustang Cobra as my own way of buzzing the tower after fighting a vicious fire. I too was immediately called into the Chief’s office and told to straighten up or be dismissed. It was incredibly immature and stupid but I was young and alive in my 20s. I felt like Maverick. I had lived that out in real life. Now, I was much older and about to drop out of a great adventure before we even began. Maverick also almost quit after his best friend Goose was killed in a freak accident during training. Maverick eventually decided to stick it out in the Top Gun program and went on to save the day at the climax of the movie. That storyline was very inspirational to me. To me, the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M had a similar military aspect that I definitely wanted to experience. But unlike the movie Top Gun, no one in my life had died. What reason did I have to quit? Am I so old now that I’m not up for my next big adventure?
Then I thought all the way back to high school. I had quit the band during the second semester of my senior year. That situation was similar to this one. I absolutely loved the band and being with all my friends but I also was a starter on the varsity baseball team. We made the playoffs every year and I wanted to concentrate all my time on training for baseball to be in peak condition. Back then I thought it would be prudent to drop out of band, even though I loved it, in order to focus more on baseball. With that decision, I figured I could train harder and put myself in a position to be the very best that I could be. My strategy was to go on to play college ball and then to the major leagues. I didn’t plan to continue with the band after high school so my decision seemed to make sense, at least to me.
But my band director did not agree. He loved me and recognized that I was one of the most influential leaders in the organization. In fact, he specifically told me that anytime I was gone for the day for whatever reason, maybe a dentist appointment or just sick, there was a clear difference in the focus of the band as a unit. When I was present, things were different and more energized. The director told me directly that the band seemed to work cohesively with more energy when I was there. I would have never thought that just one person could make such a difference to a large group of people but when I asked my band director to sign the paperwork that would allow me to quit, he refused to sign it saying he didn’t want me to go. But I quit anyway because I thought I was making the responsible decision. Despite the departure, there was zero animosity between us and we remained good friends until he passed away many years later. But I will never forget that moment and what it felt like to quit, even though I thought I was making the right decision.
Back in high school, I thought that leaving the band to concentrate on baseball was the best thing to do. It was what the experts would recommend. These days, it is common practice for coaches to explain that if you want to be the best in something, you need to sacrifice everything else to devote yourself to one true passion. So, I quit the band my last semester in high school but I felt bad about the decision ever since. Yes, I made All-District as a baseball player. We advanced to the state semifinals and I went on to play baseball in college. But I always regretted quitting the band.
When I was a kid in high school, I loved the combination of music and the discipline of marching. When the drums started beating and we all joined in unison with our instruments I got excited. It made the hairs on my arms stand up with electricity and pride. I loved being around all my friends and pushing ourselves to be the very best as one huge band all working together. What was not to like? There was motivating music combined with the discipline of marching. Most of my closest friends were in the organization with me. It was consistent leadership training with a significant purpose. At the time I thought I had made the right decision to quit so I could focus on baseball but over the years I grew to hate that decision. But here I was again in a similar situation on the Quad at Texas A&M in an even bigger organization and about to do the very same thing. But this time I would be quitting at the beginning. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to go that direction.
As I sat there alone on the bench inside the UDC with uniforms all around me, I thought about a similar dilemma by the character Johnny Rico in the movie Starship Troopers. Johnny was a lot like me when I was younger. He was a cocky, confident jock at the top of his game in football. He joined the military, kind of on a whim, to impress a girl. She wanted him to look good in his uniform. He didn’t really know what he wanted to do with his life so he joined up. During basic training, Johnny made a name for himself but one of the recruits under his command was killed in a training accident. Johnny was devastated and he was blamed for the accident. He regretted joining up just to get a chance to look good in uniform for his girlfriend. He believed he had joined for the wrong reasons. So he quit. He got his papers signed and punched. But just as he was about to walk out, a major attack took place that destroyed his home city and killed his parents. Johnny had new motivation to fight and asked to be reinstated. It was a deadly and brutal war yet over the course of the movie, Johnny transformed from a naive inexperienced misfit into one of the most respected and resilient warriors. He had almost quit but got it together and became an inspirational soldier and leader. It was another fictitious movie but I admit without hesitation that I also wanted to be like Johnny Rico. But there I was, about to punch, and I hadn’t proven anything heroic. I was ready to be a quitter.
Watching movie characters go through transformation to become stronger was one of my favorite ways to examine myself. I understood the movies were fictitious but I could still use them as motivation to live in a way that mimicked their heroics. Movies were something outside myself that I could use to push me. I looked at characters like Maverick and Johnny Rico to analyze how I compared to them. Maverick’s experience made him stronger. Johnny Rico’s odyssey made him the best. I wanted to have my adventure too.
I looked up and over at Mister Jun. He seemed to know what I was thinking.
“Why don’t you talk to Miss Tiedemann?” Mister Jun suggested. “Just let her know what’s going on.” Another good suggestion. Mister Jun gave me her number and I punched it in.
Miss Tiedemman answered and we began a conversation. I told her I wanted to be in the Corps but I absolutely hated my face without a beard and I wasn’t sure I could allocate the time while attending school as an adult and holding down a job. She listened and talked with me for a moment before offering one of the most inspirational statements I had ever heard in my life up to that point.
“I cannot tell you what to do,” stated Miss Tiedemann firmly with great poise and professional direction. “You can look to me for input but at the end of the day, you have to make a decision.”
Here was this undergraduate twenty-something-year-old-little-girl and she had more leadership expertise than I did. It was sound advice and it sunk home. But she wasn’t finished yet.
“Whatever you decide, stick with it,” Miss Tiedemann continued. “Decide what you are going to do and don’t look back.” There was a pause before she concluded. “Just keep in mind, you’ll have to live with your decision.” She was understanding, kind, yet resolute.
We ended the conversation and I found myself shaking my head to process the wisdom I had just received. I was startled by her strength but also inspired to find some of my own. Here I was, a man at 41 years old, but I had just been taken to school by someone half my age. If that didn’t wake me up and help me make a decision about what I needed to do, then I wasn’t sure anything would. I thought to myself with rapidly forming clarity…
If the Corps is a place that can make leaders out of young women and men half my age and give an adult like me sound advice even after all my life experience…
if the Corps is a place where people like Colonel Hawes, Mister Jun, Miss Tiedemann, Mister Holloway, and Nancy spend their time because they believe in it…
if the Corps has all the qualities in life that I have been missing like leadership, discipline, honor, teamwork, camaraderie, growth, and spirit…
then the Corps is also the exact place I need to be.
I needed to be around people who were better than me so they could push me. The Corps was where I had found them. Certainly, I hated my face without my beard and I really felt out of place and uncomfortable in my older, out of shape body in front of so many young disciplined cadets . But for me to be the person I truly wanted to be, I was just going to have to learn to live with being uncomfortable and exposed without my beard for four years. I thought to myself further,
Yes, it sucks not having my beard. I absolutely hate my face without it! But do I want to miss one of the greatest opportunities in my life just because I’m currently out of shape and want to have a beard to cover up my face? No. I’m not making wimpy excuses anymore. Comfort will no longer be my mission. I came here for a purpose. I came to be pushed to grow and learn to push myself further than I ever have before. Now shut your stupid old man gross beardless face and just do this!
I walked back over to the counter and Nancy looked up from her work.
“Nancy, I apologize after you put it all away but would you please mind issuing me all the uniform items again?” I humbly yet assuredly asked with a little confidence in my decision.
“Not at all.” She replied as she and the student worker immediately began to retrieve my uniform items. I turned to Mister Jun and made sure he understood my decision.
“I’m staying in the Corps with you,” I said now even more confidently as if the first statement with Nancy had provided me with the final assurance I needed.
Mister Jun looked at me and smiled. “Very good,” was all he said. “I’ll let Miss Tiedemann know.”
Everyone around me was now back in action and I began to feel a peace sweep over me. Yes, I was nervous and even uncomfortable about the situation but that was exactly what I needed. It was time for me to be out of my comfort zone once again so that I could find my true self. The more I thought about it, the happier I got.
Since I had drug my resignation and reinstatement process out for the majority of the afternoon, I was released for the evening to take a breather so I could come back strong the next day. Basking in my newfound confidence that stemmed from finally making a decision, I decided to take a walk around campus to really soak it in.
I strolled off the Quad, walked past the Sanders Corps Center, past the University Central Parking Garage (UCG), and came right up to Kyle Field. The stadium was massive. It dwarfed the football stadium back home at Coppell High School where I had been a student and teacher. I laughed thinking back to my hesitation and questioning of God before coming to A&M. I remembered standing before the smaller stadium in my hometown of Coppell, praying to the Lord that I was making the right decision to leave the comfort of my teaching job to go back to school. Now here I was just beginning my adventure in Aggieland and it finally felt like I was getting some positive reassurance. I stood in awe of the massive structure, humbled while taking shelter in the shade it provided me from the afternoon sun. The huge maroon brick facility loomed over me and I could not wait to get inside when football season was set to start a few weeks later. I walked down to a large statue that showcased a line of Aggie students standing together arm in arm singing the Aggie War Hymn. I had learned the song at ATC (Aggie Transition Camp) and was looking forward to doing it for real in the stadium with a whole bunch of Aggies all around me. I continued walking in a counterclockwise manner to the north around Kyle Field and came upon the E. King Gill 12th Man statue. I looked up at him as he towered over me. He was inspirational. He was the guy that stood up when his football team needed him and became the heroic motivator for thousands of Aggies that came after him.
I continued walking around the football stadium on the north side. I made my way west past the ticket windows and examined the resting site of multiple Reveille dog mascots that had served and were reverently laid to rest years previously. I turned and faced north to read the names of heroic young men that were engraved on large columns for their achievements in football. Among them were Heisman Trophy winners John David Crow in 1957 and Johnny Manziel in 2012. Up to that point, I hadn't really watched any Aggie football games and I didn’t know anything about “Johnny Football.” But something told me I was about to get an education regarding just how much the game and entire experience of football meant to the university.
From there, I strolled over to the Memorial Student Center (MSC) which was right across the street. As I approached the entrance at the southwest corner of the building, I looked up above the doorway to see the sign designating the particular entry where I was standing as the “LEADERSHIP” entrance. The tour guides had pointed out the unique name markings of each individual doorway previously but I had been overwhelmed by too much awe and wonder to really process them. Now, with a newly focused mind, the idea of me actually being a cadet in a world class leadership organization began to sink in.
Leadership. That’s why I’m here. I recognized that I had done some cool things in my life as a leader but had allowed various levels of compromise to define who I had become. Yet here, standing below the entrance to the MSC and looking up at the sign above the door that stated “LEADERSHIP” I began to feel that things were lining up for me to become the leader I had always wanted to be. I took a step forward. The doors slid open and I walked into the relief of the air conditioning as I moved away from the blazing Texas summer sun into the shade of being inside.
Since it was early August, there wasn’t a full gathering of students but the building still had activity. I walked down the main hallway and turned into the bookstore. I passed Starbucks and found myself enthralled by all the A&M merchandise. My entire life I had envied friends and family who had gone to the big universities. With my family being from the midwest, my parents and a lot of my aunts, uncles, and cousins had gone to Purdue. There were countless times over the years when we had stopped into the bookstores in West Lafayette, Indiana to pick up black and gold shirts, caps, and sweatshirts with a big letter P. I wanted that experience at my own university. I had waited and longed for it so desperately.
My brother had gone to Baylor and enjoyed their celebrated green and gold. Some of my friends from high school and a lot of my students that I taught at Coppell had gone to the University of Texas where they sported longhorn gear with the burnt orange. For so long, I had yearned to have that kind of experience and spirit. I had attended a small liberal arts college which was wonderful but missed the larger university adventure. Now, here I finally was, standing inside the bookstore on campus at Texas A&M University surrounded by a sea of maroon t-shirts, polos, sweatshirts, caps, and countless other assorted paraphernalia. But the best part about the experience I was having that day was finally comprehending that I was actually a student. This was now my university. It was really beginning to sink in. I found a maroon A&M cap that fit just right and placed it on my head. Looking into the mirror, I began to feel a great satisfaction sweep over me. I took the cap off my head and purchased it.
I left the bookstore and continued my journey down the main hallway of the MSC where I found myself standing at the entrance to what is known as the flag room, a large two-story open room with a dark wooden floor and couches all around for students to lounge on and tables along the walls for studying. Around the room were artifacts of Aggie lore, many related to the Corps of Cadets. In the corner, there was a big grand piano. While I had heard students playing it during previous tours, at the moment, the room was mostly silent. It was as if I was experiencing the calm before the storm of my adventure in the Corps and the academic semester to come. Just being in the beautiful quiet room decked out with Aggie artifacts was motivating. I was surrounded by fantastic items of history and the symbols of greatness and service were all the inspiration I needed.
I drove home that evening with newfound confidence. That tends to happen when you consider your options and then finally make a decision. I had decided to join the Corps and not turn back. Now, I was all in. It seemed the weight of the world was lifted off me and although I was just driving down a blacktop highway, I felt like I was soaring. The sun was out and I was going to be a cadet at Texas A&M University. Over the speakers in my truck, I activated my phone, pushed play on the Aggie War Hymn, and turned the volume all the way up. The song began with a huge chorus of Aggies chanting together.
Hullabaloo, caneck, caneck! Hullabaloo, caneck, caneck!
The symphony began and I felt the hairs on my arms stand up as the Fighting Texas Aggie Band kicked off the main section of the song. Over the last month, I had come to know every single word by heart. Back when I had been in ATC, and with a deep desire to know absolutely everything there was about my university, I asked one of the counselors what “Hullabaloo, caneck, caneck” meant. His response was poetic. He explained that some people believe it’s a representation of a train blowing its whistle and riding across the tracks as the wheels bumped along, sounding out the rhythmic caneck, caneck, caneck, caneck. The old train blew its whistle. Hullabaloo! Hullabaloo! If you’ve been anywhere in College Station, and certainly on the A&M campus, you know that trains roll through all the time. The railroad is at the heart of Aggieland. And driving home to Calvert while going northbound along Highway 6, the tracks run parallel to the road.
The main portion of the hymn surged on. I appreciated that it wasn’t just a song. It’s officially a “hymn.” Growing up in the Presbyterian Church with old hymnals in every pew, hymns were a piece of poetry and musical art that remained embedded in my soul, as if God ushered the lyrics from the heavens himself. Through the speakers on my car, the Aggie band kicked up. The lyrics soared. The windows in my vehicle were down and the air conditioning was turned all the way up. Not caring what anybody in the vehicles passing by me thought, I sang out loud and pumped my fist in the air with all the gusto of a college freshman.
Goodbye to Texas University. So long to the orange and white. Good luck to dear old Texas Aggies. They are the ones who show the real old fight…
The hymn continued as I drove home with a huge smile upon my face.
Some might wonder why Texas A&M uses our war hymn to call out our rival, the University of Texas, during our own fight song. If you are not familiar with Aggie lore, understand that we do not refer to it as the University of Texas because there is more than one university in Texas. We therefore call the institution Texas University or t.u. Changing the name is just one fun way of recognizing one of the greatest rivalries in sports. It’s a competition that goes all the way back to the founding of the original universities when limited state funding was being allocated and the two organizations were fighting to get enough money to stay open.
The healthy feud between the two institutions is as deep a part of being an Aggie as it is to be a Texan. Anytime I walk past someone wearing burnt orange, I cringe. I understand they do the same when they see me in maroon. But I also highly respect and appreciate my fellow brothers and sisters who chose to attend that other university in Austin. Certainly, it’s fun to call out the Longhorns and chastise them for their ignorance. But at the same time, there is a deeper connection and love that goes all the way back to the beginning and the early days of the great state of Texas. Never was this affection and admiration for each other showcased more than when the Aggie bonfire stack collapsed unexpectedly in the middle of the night in 1999 and twelve Aggies were tragically killed. To show their love, respect, and support, the Longhorn marching band hoisted A&M flags during their halftime show at the very next game which was played at Kyle Field.
Yes, we celebrate our hatred of each other. But we also do it with appreciation and respect. Admittedly it’s not all the time and it’s not by every person. Both sides have those who would rather hate and abuse. Unfortunately that’s how the world works. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Respect is something that we seek. It’s also something we can choose to give. Like leadership, respect is another core value posted at the top of one of the entrances to the MSC. These values are a part of who we are as Aggies. These ideals aren’t just words on a wall. We live them. Leadership and respect are choices we make. They don’t just happen. Like the choice to be a leader or give respect, I made the choice to go for my goals by joining the Corps.
I made the decision to join the Corps of Cadets because, at the end of the day, I wanted to be a better person and I recognized the fact that I needed the discipline and leadership training promised within the organization. But I was inspired to make the choice because I was motivated by the heroic storylines I enjoyed and connected with in movies like Top Gun and Starship Troopers. Yes, they were fictitious films yet their narratives showcased characters who overcame tremendous adversity. Maverick chose not to quit and returned to become the hero of the movie. Johnny Rico also chose not to quit and went on to become one of the most highly regarded warriors in the military. I wanted to live a life like Maverick and Johnny Rico because they were heroically resilient. In my mind, that journey for me would begin in the Corps of Cadets.
Resilience Lesson #4: Heroic narratives can inspire us to make the choice to be resilient.
Question: What is a choice you can make right now that would change your direction and start you down the path toward being resilient?
-- This blog post is one chapter in a book titled I Bleed Maroon by Andrew Christjoy that is being finalized and seeks publication.
Comments