What is the inscription on the front and back of the pedestal on which the Lawrence Sullivan Ross statue stands in front of the Academic Building?
Lawrence Sullivan Ross, 1838-1898, Soldier, Statesman, Knightly Gentleman; Brigadier General C.S.A, Governor of Texas, President of the A&M College.
- Campusology #3
One of the motivations for being in the Corps of Cadets was to get back in shape. There had been a time in my life when I was a stout firefighter who led an elite rescue team but during my time as a teacher, I had let myself slide and made poor choices as far as eating and drinking. I ate junk to “reward” myself after a stressful day of teaching and I drank a lot to help myself relax to prepare for the next day. It’s not that I didn’t love teaching. I absolutely loved the kids, teaching the content, and the school where I was working. It’s just that I exhausted myself every single day, like any other teacher, and I made the choice to eat and drink junk in the evenings without disciplined workouts. Needless to say, I had gained weight and gotten soft.
When I was a teacher, sometimes I would work out in the mornings before school but I wasn’t super consistent. And I really didn’t do much cardio. In fact, in preparation for the Corps, new recruits were instructed to, among other things, practice running a mile and a half. I couldn’t even do that without stopping. The truth was that I probably could have run a mile and a half without stopping. I just lacked the discipline to make myself do it. That, plus the fact that I had been drinking and eating heavily all summer as my way of easing the stress of trying to sell a house, buy a new one, move everything, and find a new job loaded me down with more anxiety that ate its way into fat more than even I was normally used to. Keep in mind, I had done some really cool things in life up to that point but I was still immature on the emotionally disciplined front.
Commonly, my evening meal would include pizza or nachos followed by a few tumblers of vodka and a couple of boxes of M&M cookies. That’s actually not a joke or exaggeration. That happened more often than not. When I arrived at the Corps, I was more out of shape and heavier than I had been in years. Looking back at myself now, I can’t believe I allowed myself to live like that. Yes, I was a person who had done some great things in life but I also was still a compromiser who made excuses and lacked discipline. But, I hoped the Corps would be a place where I could find inspiration to make some changes. Well, I was about to find out.
I will never forget my first “golf course run.” Our entire outfit was lined up in the dark one morning before classes began. The officers and upperclassmen were in front of our group and all us fish were in the back. We were each dressed in the Corps-approved physical training “PT gear.” Our PT uniform consisted of matching black t-shirts, dark shorts, and bright yellow safety reflector belts to warn approaching vehicles of our presence when we crossed roads. The coolest part was our black V-1 outfit t-shirts with a big Viper snake on the front with the words “Swift, Silent, Deadly” encircling the mascot. But on this run, there would be nothing swift, silent, or deadly about the endeavor.
At the front of the group, Mister Magby stood holding our guidon. I was surprised to see that he would be running with it because it was a pretty big flag attached to a significant pole. But I didn’t think much about it because I was anxious to get started. I hadn’t really run much over the summer and I wanted to make sure I could prove myself. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have a problem because I had been able to fight fires in one hundred-degree summer weather wearing eighty pounds of safety gear and a tank on my back. Doing that took significant focus to overcome the sensation of wanting to pass out so mentally I felt like I was good to go. But I really wasn’t sure how I would be physically on a run after I’d been lazy all summer. Plus it had been ten years since I had been a firefighter.
We were all standing around in the middle of the Quad in the dark, waiting for things to get started. I was bantering with my new buddies Simonds and Mawad when from up at the front of the group near the officers I heard someone say…
“Viper Company, double time!”
And just like that, the group began to jog. We ran down the Quad in the middle of all the buildings and out through the arches at the north end. We turned right onto a street and ran down toward the golf course. Mister Magby led us from the front. He didn’t seem to have any trouble at all running while carrying the large heavy guidon. As for me, I felt okay but the pace was a little faster than I would have liked. I guess I was kind of used to taking it easy when I jogged by myself, not that running on my own had really taken place anytime recently.
Still in the dark of morning, we ran up to the golf course and then took another right, running down the winding sidewalk that followed the perimeter of the course. While no one would call what we were on a hill, I could tell that we were running slightly at an incline. It made keeping the pace a bit more difficult and I already felt myself getting winded. I was breathing heavily as I worked to not show any outward signs of stress. Around me, the group seemed to mostly be keeping up with each other.
We ran in two long columns to make sure we all fit into the narrower width of the sidewalk. The morning was dark and all I could really hear were the sounds of about twenty pairs of sneakers hitting the pavement and various levels of breathing. We came to the southwest corner of the golf course at the intersection of Bizzell Street and George Bush Drive. I heard one of the officers yell “Circle up!” and the group broke off into the grass and formed a circle. We all slowed down and walked around in that circle until our breathing eased just a bit as we each paused to catch our breath. Okay! I positively thought to myself. That wasn’t so bad! I think I can do this! It hadn’t been super easy but I was making it and was quickly catching my breath. I felt like I was recovering during the pause. Mister Magby shoved the pointed bottom of the guidon pole into the ground and stood before us as we continued to recover.
“Assume the position,” said Mister Magby with a slight grin on his face that I could see with the help of the nearby streetlights. Just like that, the upperclassmen began to get down into what looked like a plank form on the ground. Uh oh. I thought to myself. While I had felt decently enough to jog for a little bit, adding in something more physically demanding was not what my body was really up for. But there was nothing I could do about it. I dropped down to the grass in the dark and assumed the position.
“On me,” said Mister Magby. There was a moment of silence. “Down!” Mister Magby instructed and he dropped his body close to the grass but did not allow his arms to rest. We all did the same. Mister Magby pushed himself up into the braced pushup form. We all did the same and then the upperclassmen called out “One!” No one in the fish group really responded.
“Fish!” called out the XO Miss Scott. “Count with your upperclassmen! It is not your privilege to struggle in silence!” She was right. Most of us hadn’t said a word but I didn’t know I was supposed to. Lesson one for the day was to count out loud during workouts. Got it.
“Down!” shouted Mister Magby and he dropped down again. We followed his lead. He came up and this time the entire outfit responded with a loud “two!” This process continued until we got to twenty. Doing push ups didn’t really seem to be a huge deal for me because my upper body had always been pretty strong and even if I hadn’t been keeping up with cardio much, I always did bench press. So I felt pretty good about the process but have to admit that I was pretty winded.
“On your back!’ yelled Mister Magby as he rolled over from the pushup position onto his back. We all did the same. “Six inches!” Mister Magby instructed and everyone held their legs straight out but kept them just six inches off the ground. We held them there for what seemed like a long moment. My legs started to shake. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been a problem but after jogging for a bit, doing pushups, and then getting to this position, my legs were not excited to be straining further. Mister Magby continued the instruction by scissor kicking his legs up and down in the air. “And… one, two, three…” Mister Magby called out as he moved his legs up and down.
“One!” yelled everyone else.
Mister Magby continued yelling, “One, two, three…”
“Two!” we all yelled as we strained to move our legs up and down and keep up with the pace that Mister Magby was setting.
“One, two, three…”
“Three!”
One, two, three…”
“Four!”
One, two, three…”
“Five!” And the process continued endlessly.
Holy crap! I thought to myself as I strained to move my legs up in the air and also keep them from hitting the ground. I have to admit that it was difficult for me because I had never really combined jogging or cardio with anything else. Usually I’d run in the air conditioning of the gym on a nice treadmill or elliptical for about twenty minutes and call it good. I never would get my heartrate up and then do something else like pushups or scissor kicks. For me it had either been a cardio day or a weight day. Now, here in the dark before the rest of campus was awake, I was down in the grass laboring physically after running. My body was not happy with me. But what was I going to do at this point?
To be honest, it was exactly the kind of workout I had been craving and I was so thankful to be right there on the ground getting it done. But my body was fighting me with everything it had. I had no desire to quit because I loved it. It’s just that my body at 41 years old after basically taking it easy for seven years while I was a teacher was fighting against me. My heart and mind were excited. My body was upset. But I had listened to my body for too long. I had rested and lived in comfort long enough. Now, I was ready to turn my lump of goo into a well oiled and disciplined machine. Or so I thought.
We reached about twenty or so scissor kicks and stopped. I’m not quite sure what number we actually stopped at as the discomfort in my legs, stomach, and lungs began to talk louder inside my head than my ability to remember those specific details. We all stood up and I thought that we were done but to my dismay, Mister Magby began the next exercise. It happened to be burpees. If you are not familiar with burpees you just need to know that they are terrible. The process involves squatting down, jumping up as high as you can with your arms up in the air and then coming back down. From there you get into the pushup position and stretch your legs all the way out behind you. You finish the exercise by coming back up to the squat position. And that is just one burpee. But then you do it all over again, and again, and again. I barely had the energy to do just one. But we didn’t do just one. We did twenty.
When we finished that exercise we were instructed to form two lines and we began jogging again. But we didn’t jog back to the Quad. We turned east and went further down George Bush Drive along the full length of the golf course. We were headed further away from where we started. While I absolutely loved what we were doing, my legs, gut, and lungs were about to give out on me. I was already exhausted and now we were headed out even further into the dark. I could barely breathe. And then one of the officers started to chant something that I had only heard in military movies when new recruits were being trained. The officer chanted and we repeated it. It went something like this:
Officer: Here we go.
Outfit: Here we go!
Officer: All the way.
Outfit: All the way!
Officer: Here we go.
Outfit: Here we go!
Officer: Everyday.
Outfit: Everyday!
The back and forth repetition continued as we jogged on through the darkness. The officer barked more of the lines and we responded:
Sign my name on the dotted line.
Sign my name on the dotted line!
All I do is the double time.
All I do is the double time!
Up the hill.
Up the hill!
Down the hill.
Down the hill!
On the hill.
On the hill!
Up the hill.
Up the hill!
Airborne.
Airborne!
Hooah!
Hooah!
Now, there are variations to this cadence sung by different organizations and outfits but this was the gist of how it went. As we ran, most people repeated the cadence as instructed. But for me and a few other fish, I was so out of shape that I could hardly breathe, much less repeat the cadence very well. My legs were dead from the run and from the calisthenics. As it was, I was just hoping to make it. But we kept running. The cadence continued. My heart raced. My lungs burned. My legs felt like jello. The officer called out. We responded.
C130 rollin down the strip.
C130 rollin down the strip!
Airborne daddy gonna take a little trip.
Airborne daddy gonna take a little trip!
Stand up. Hook up. Shuffle to the door.
Stand up. Hook up. Shuffle to the door!
Jump right out and count to four.
Jump right out and count to four!
If my main don’t open wide.
If my main don’t open wide!
I gotta reserve by my side.
I gotta reserve by my side!
If that one should fail me too.
If that one should fail me to!
Look out devil I’m coming down to you.
Look out devil I’m coming down to you!
With the chant echoing off into the distance, we ran down George Bush Drive. I looked over at College View High School on the other side of the street and I saw my wife’s car in the parking lot. Although it was only about 6:15 a.m., we had commuted together to save gas since the trip was thirty five miles and she was already in her classroom hard at work. That’s just one more example of the incredible wife she is. All she wanted out of the relationship was to support and empower me. She did exactly that. As we ran past her school in the dark, I couldn’t help but be incredibly grateful. I was working out as a cadet in the world famous Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M University and my sweet wife got up at 4 a.m. to come down to College Station with me. That was a sacrifice she made frequently over the next four years.
We ran and came to the next corner of the golf course at the intersection of George Bush at Texas Avenue. To my dismay, Mister Magby called for us to circle up and we once again broke down into laborious and intense physical exercises, followed by more running. We ran up Texas Avenue and did more exercises before the turn back toward campus on New Main Drive. As we headed back toward the Quad, I could see the magnificent campus buildings illuminated against the dark in front of me. Laboring to breathe, I attempted to remember the names of the buildings as we ran toward them. There was the Administration building with columns and the huge flag in front. Behind that to the right was the Architecture Quad with the Haynes Engineering Building that kind of reminded me of Dallas City Hall with its angular front. Back to the left was the O&M Tower where my Geography Department was housed. I looked forward to going to class there. It was the tallest building on campus with a big radar dish on top. We ran on.
My legs flopped along underneath me and I could barely make myself continue the pace, which actually seemed to increase the closer we got back to the main section of campus. At the corner of New Main Drive and Bizzell Street right in front of the Administration Building, we stopped to catch our breath and do more calisthenics while a few of the fish caught up to us. By this point, a couple had fallen behind and one of the upperclassmen had slowed with them to make sure they were coming along. For a moment we stood in a group to watch them catch up with us and I had to thank God that I wasn’t one of them. I may have been dying on the inside but at least I could still get it done. When the stragglers arrived we all did more calisthenics and then set off again for what I hoped was the end of our journey. We rounded the last part of the golf course and turned in to head down Lubbock Street. The pace was faster now and I was wondering where Mister Magby and the others found any reserve energy to keep moving at the increased pace after all that jogging and additional physical activity at each corner of the golf course. I myself felt like puking and I could barely force my body to continue running. But there was no way I was going to stop.
As we approached the Quad, we turned left and ran past the Spanish-American War Memorial in Corps Plaza. We passed underneath the arches to signify our official return and I was grateful to be back home. But to my great surprise, we were not yet done.
“Take Duncan!” Miss Tiedemann screamed. The group of upperclassmen in front of us took off, sprinting down the full length of the Quad. Even Mister Magby was running fast with the guidon held high above his head. Many of our fish group sprinted with them but I was pretty much dead. All I could think as everyone sprinted past me was that there was absolutely no way I could run any faster at that point. It had taken absolutely everything I had just to get back to the Quad without falling down and letting my middle aged body go into convulsions.
You gotta be freaking kidding me! I thought to myself. Thankfully it was only in my head because I didn’t have the strength left to speak a single syllable out loud. Perhaps that was better after all that I was winded because the word I really thought in my head wasn’t “freaking.” The group sprinted all the way down the Quad from the arches and stopped in front of Duncan Dining Center. I was near the back of the pack of stragglers when I finally caught up to the main group. I was completely exhausted but at least I had made the journey.
After a brief moment of catching our breath, we once again circled up and performed a variety of cool down stretches. We were then given some instructions for what our week would look like and cut loose to go about our academic day. As I hobbled up the stairs of White Hall, I clung to the sturdy stairway railing. I was glad to have joined my new friends in the experience and thankful that I hadn’t given up. I had made it and it felt amazing. I was dead tired but overflowing with happiness. What was really encouraging was that there had been a few younger people who ran even slower than me. So at least I wasn’t the only one out of shape.
When we reached our fish hole on the fourth floor, I bantered happily with my fish buddies for a few minutes as some of them headed off to the public showers in the dorm or back home to clean up before their day. Since my home in Calvert was close to an hour away, I made plans to shower and stay on campus all day. Otherwise, I was looking at a fifteen minute walk back to the car in Lara’s parking lot and then a forty five minute drive. Since we commuted together, I really just needed to stay. Plus, I had classes I needed to attend. And I was excited about finally being a student once again.
After I cooled off and stopped sweating, I showered up in the dorm and began the process of putting on my uniform. Prior to this, we had been shown exactly how to prepare the uniform and ensure that everything was polished and perfectly in place. We had already gone through several checks and tests to make sure we knew exactly what we were doing. That was one thing I really loved about the Corps. Each class of cadets trained the next class how to get all the little details right. It was something I had been missing in my life and I was grateful to have a bunch of kids teach me as an adult how to do the small things with excellence. That was reflected in our uniforms.
As I slipped into my uniform in the fish hole, the sun was just coming up over the Quad. I was on the fourth floor looking down on campus and the morning sky came to life. In the background I saw Rudder Tower and the massive Kyle Field. I was the only one in the fish hole and I was left alone to simply enjoy the majesty of the moment. I couldn’t believe it. I was a cadet in uniform as the sun rose over my university. If there was anything this long delay in coming to A&M taught me, it was to cherish every single moment. And by God, I was going to seize the experience.
When I was fully dressed, I went down stairs and stepped out into a glorious new day. The great part about it was that I felt like I had already won. In the darkness that morning we had run 2.2 miles and stopped at each corner of the golf course to work our bodies even harder. Now, I was feeling completely amazing. I strolled down the Quad in my incredible khaki uniform and headed off toward my first class of the day. There were other cadets in uniform headed to various places as well and I still just couldn't believe that I was one of them. God had truly blessed me.
Yet at the same time, there were four other things that were concerning. Number one was that the blistering heat of August was absolutely overhearing with the sun coming up and the saturated moisture of the air surrounding College Station made it even worse. The air felt heavy, hot, and thick. I immediately began to sweat right through my uniform. It was as if I was wading through a swamp. It didn’t help that the khaki material was itchy and thick.
Number two was that my right foot that I had broken a few years previously was killing me. In fact, it was throbbing in the tight and rigid low quarter dress shoes that I had to wear with the khaki “Class B” uniform. After that big run and now squeezed into thick rigid dress shoes, I was basically limping down the Quad. As the day went on and my foot stayed locked inside those shoes, let me tell you something, it hurt. The throbbing pain was almost unbearable. And it wasn’t like I could reach the sanctuary of an air conditioned building, prop up my leg, and take my shoes off. There was no way. I was in uniform. If I wanted to live this disciplined life, I was going to have to deal with it. So while my heart was overflowing with joy, my foot was killing me with agony. I was worried about it because I didn’t want to make it worse or do something to injure it further but there was absolutely no way I was going to let anything stop me from being in the Corps.
Number three was that I had no idea how I was going to pay for the semester, much less the semester after that. I had applied for scholarships and loans but up to that point, there wasn’t any money coming in and I still had a few hundred dollars worth of textbooks I needed to purchase. It was a far cry from my time at Austin College as a kid in my 20s when I pocketed the money my father gave me to buy textbooks and never read anything at all. Now, I didn’t have money coming in and I was beginning to feel like maybe this would be my only semester. I felt like I was doing what God wanted me to do but I also didn’t see how it could last without income.
Number four was that, while many people who had gotten to know me liked me, there were many others who didn’t seem to want me around. Let’s face it. The Corps was a young man’s game where “outsiders” weren’t welcome. It was a world that had been breached by women in the 1970s, the decade I was born. But it had taken years for them to be accepted and in many circles they still weren’t welcome. Only two years had passed since the first female was given the top position of Corps Commander in 2015. It was a huge deal because many people didn’t want it to happen. There were still many all male outfits on campus and there were definitely groups of individuals who still didn’t want women in the Corps at all. Now those naysayers had to deal with an old man trying to make it in their elite institution.
I have to admit that along with many encouraging faces, I also saw the smirks and frowns of cadets that I had no doubt were not excited to see me in uniform. And I have to say I understood their angst. If an out of shape middle-aged man could join their ranks, what would that say about them? I felt their reservation and even anger. It didn’t happen all the time but believe me, it happened often enough. So, I humbly took each individual incident in stride while trying not to let my joy be extinguished.
Most of the time, when I walked past cadets, nobody would say anything. Sometimes I would whip out to them to respectfully greet them. Sometimes it would go fine. Other times, it would not. I specifically remember one episode where I attempted to whip out to a group of three seniors who were walking toward me on the Quad.
“Howdy! Fish Patterson’s my name sir!” I respectfully proclaimed as I offered my hand to the closest of the three. But the group of seniors kept walking right past me.
“Nah man it’s cool,” said one of the upperclassmen as he waved me off and turned back to his buddies with a disgusted scowl. They were not from my outfit. In fact, I have no idea what outfit they were from. I never got the chance to know those guys. To be honest, it really hurt me. I felt like an idiot. I had rushed into burning buildings and crawled into wrecked vehicles to save people but I couldn’t get a twenty-something-year-old group of guys to shake my hand. That experience, along with a few others over that year, really crushed my spirit. All I wanted to do was honor them and serve my university with integrity. I wanted to meet them and let them know how much I wanted to represent A&M as they had. So it hurt when they scoffed at me. But they never broke my spirit. I had to learn just to let go of those kinds of experiences and people who treated me with contempt. I figured it was a good lesson for life. As grateful as I was for the new adventure, I was not going to let my light be extinguished.
Other than my aching foot, no money, sweating through my uniform, and cadets blowing me off here and there, I was having the time of my life. Walking around campus in uniform was pretty amazing. Sure, it was hot but nothing beat feeling that I was part of the greatest tradition on campus. I had the crisp white and maroon A&M patch on my sleeve and my low quarters were perfectly polished, even if they hurt my foot. My “cover” or “bider” sat on the top of my head to complete the uniform as I strolled across campus walking tall.
All major issues aside, I did have one other minor problem. While most other cadets seemed to have a chest full of ribbon awards on their uniform, I had absolutely nothing. I definitely felt like a slacker. The military guys in my fish class all had ribbons on their uniform because they were able to transfer aspects of their time of service and apply it to the Corps of Cadets. So far, I had nothing. I attempted to come up with something from my service in the fire department that maybe could have transferred into a ribbon but really there was nothing applicable. So, while I felt good in my uniform, I walked around with nothing but a slick chest. All I had up front was my nameplate and the pins on my collar. Other than that, I was just a normal cadet, not that I had any problem with that. In fact, I loved it.
But even the blank uniform was still amazing to walk around in. Although I had nothing but my nameplate on my chest, I did finally get to wear the beautiful white and maroon A&M patches on both of my shoulders. Some cadets who had served in the military or were going to commission were allowed to wear a patch of the branch of the military they were involved with on one of their shoulders. For example, most of my fish buddies wore the Army patch on their arm because they had served or were going back in after they finished their degrees. I myself would have loved to join the Air Force and wear the incredible blue patch with the white star and the gold wings. But when I approached the recruiters at their offices in the Trigon they just laughed at me and told me they weren’t going to waste their time. I was too old and at the time, I wasn’t in the best of shape. But I dang sure felt incredible with the A&M patch on my sleeve. And the path I was on I knew for certain would get me back into top shape in no time. I had to. If I didn’t make weight standards in just a few weeks, I would be kicked out of the Corps and lose the opportunity to wear the uniform.
On both sides of my collar I wore the standard AMU pins which stood for American Military University. All freshman cadets were required to wear them until they earned their “brass” at the end of the semester. I didn’t really know what that meant at the time but I figured I’d find out later. The other really cool aspect of the uniform were the two Corps Staff shields that I got to wear. They were pinned to the top of my shoulders on the epaulets. Since V-1 fell directly under the supervision of the Corps Staff, we wore the Corps Staff shields. They were beautiful with solid white and gold text that stated the motto Per Unitatem Vis, a latin phrase that meant “Through unity strength.” It was motivation just to have that on my shoulders. We also wore the typical black underclassmen belt with a brass buckle that had nothing on it. Everything else we would have to earn over time. I was looking forward to doing just that.
As the sun continued to rise over campus, I walked toward my first class just like thousands of other students. I was motivated by the sound of my own walking, accented by the taps fastened to the bottom of my shoes. Freshman cadets wore taps on the bottoms of their shoes as they learned to march in unison. Sophomore cadets also wore taps because they were responsible for training the fish. Juniors didn’t wear any taps because they were upperclassmen and didn’t need to. The seniors all wore the large leather boots with taps and spurs. It was their privilege and the sound of them walking across the pavement everywhere on campus was amazing. But I had to admit I liked the tapping sound of my low quarters as I walked across campus as well, ignoring the fact that they hurt my feet.
My first class was none other than GEOG 201: Intro to Human Geography. If there was a strategy to gain confidence by easing back into college, I couldn’t think of a better way. I had been teaching AP Human Geography at the high school level as an educator for four years prior to coming to A&M. This was gonna be fun! And it helped that my fish buddy August Bell was in the very same class. Together we strolled into the Interdisciplinary Life Sciences Building (ILSB) adjacent to Simpson Drill Field and found ourselves in a large new lecture hall and made our way down front to choose our seats.
We sat down in comfortable new chairs complete with fabric cushions and began to joke and banter with the other students around us. One student, who happened to be another cadet, seemed to be in a rush as he came in just before class and sat down in the very front row right in front of us. As he pulled his notebook out and slightly turned back toward us, I noticed that the AMUs on his collar were kinda crooked. After being drilled for days on the importance of keeping our brass wired correctly and checking each other, there was no way I was going to let this kid slide. He looked sloppy and I needed to let him know.
“Hey man,” I whispered firmly to get his attention as I saw the professor walk in front the side door up front. “Your AMUs are crooked. You need to fix that.”
While I meant to help him correct his uniform, as the words came out of my mouth, they sounded harsh and more condescending than I would have liked. The young man offered me a response that did not seem like he appreciated my help at all. In fact, he seemed pretty agitated at me for pointing it out. But, by then the professor was in the room and it was clear that the class was about to start. This was no time to get into a holy war regarding uniform protocol. I felt bad for bringing it up and I was humiliated that the kid blew me off. And I felt stupid for being an old man in a cadet uniform when everyone else was young. But, I was with my buddy August and we were about to get into one of my favorite subjects. This was exactly why I came to A&M! It had been so long since I had the opportunity to be in class working toward a degree. I was excited and really looking forward to it. And the professor did not disappoint.
Dr. Watkins was a young guy who was clearly passionate about his work. As he went over the introduction to the class and our first lecture, I appreciated that he was not afraid to show his passion for the material. I connected with him because I felt that as a high school teacher and fire department instructor before that, I used the same type of energy and enthusiasm while teaching. As I sat and listened to him, I had to take a moment to look around and pinch myself to acknowledge where I was. I was a student and cadet sitting in a huge lecture hall with other students getting information about a subject I loved.
There is something to be said about waiting for things in life. The yearning brings a certain appreciation that I know I never would have had before. I remember myself back in college twenty years earlier when I was young. I took everything for granted. Now back on a university campus, I felt like it was Christmas morning. I cherished every single thing I could as if it was a huge gift. I had no money and I didn’t know how I was going to pay for the semester but by God, I was having the time of my life just being there. While the younger students may have sat there taking things in as normal, I feverishly took notes and enjoyed every moment.
After class, August and I walked out the back doors of the lecture hall just like everyone else and found ourselves chatting with a few other students. While we were having fun and dragging our feet before heading to the next class, the young cadet who I had gotten onto about his uniform walked up to us and stopped. But there was something different in his demeanor. He didn’t seem flustered and rushed like before. Now he just seemed like a normal, relaxed cadet. But he didn’t say anything. There was a moment that felt like it was going to be awkward so I extended my hand.
“Hey I’m Andrew,” I said with a smile. The young man quickly returned my handshake respectfully.
“I’m Carlos,” said the young man. While neither one of us brought up the issue of the uniform, I looked at his collar to find that his AMUs had been fixed and now looked perfectly aligned. I looked down at his name tape and saw that his last name was De Leon. The rest of his uniform looked perfect. The three of us walked out of the building and had a good chat as we strolled to our next appointments. Over the course of the semester, Carlos and I would become good friends as I discovered that he was an extremely hard-working and intelligent young man. Neither one of us would ever bring up the incident again. Four years later, Carlos would rise to become the Corps Staff Logistics Officer and I would work right alongside him in top leadership. But neither one of us knew that day just how high we would rise. At that moment, we were just fish cadets walking across campus enjoying the sun and being Aggies. When we came to the middle of campus, each of us split off to go our separate directions.
Left to my own accord with time to waste before my next class, I found myself standing in front of the Academic building, looking up at the statue of Lawrence Sullivan Ross or “Sully” as he is affectionately known by thousands. Over the last few days, I had gotten to know a great deal about him, especially having to memorize word for word the exact campusology regarding the kind of man he was and his incredible contribution to the university. He seemed to be a man who did great things and made a significant positive impact on the world around him. From what I knew, I wanted to be like him. Clearly, I didn’t know him as a person because his entire lifespan took place roughly eighty years before I was even born. I am therefore not in a position to say that I can vouch for his character with absolution. The only things I know about him were what I was told and the things I read in books or online. Little did I know that three years later, in the midst of a terrible global pandemic and horrible race animosity, the Sully statue would become the center of a standoff between opposing sides.
But back in the fall of 2017, all I knew of Sully was that he was a man who cared deeply about his students and securing Texas A&M University's place as an institution of higher learning. When funding and interest was being diverted, it was Sully who rallied the government and found the finances to transform the little college from a train stop in the middle of nowhere with a few buildings into a highly sought after source for education. For the moment, I was just a cadet and Sully was a marker of excellence I wanted to emulate. What I saw as a freshman cadet when I looked up at Sully was the representation of one of the best leaders who saved A&M at a time when the university was about to be closed down. I understood that without his direct intervention, I and thousands of other Aggies of various races, creeds, and religions would never have the chance to stand here as a student. For that reason alone, I was grateful. As for the rest surrounding Sully, that larger conversation would come just three years later. And it would capture the attention of the entire nation.
As the legends explain, Sully was a man who valued time with his students. When asked how they could repay him for helping with homework, Ross would simply reply, “A penny for your thoughts.” Thus today is the tradition of placing a penny at the foot of his statue to usher in good luck before taking an exam. Lawrence Sullivan Ross knew the influence of his relationships with students. He wasn’t an isolated figurehead in his position as president of the university. He created lasting bonds that forged connections spanning generations. Sociality is another aspect of resilience. Like the intricate web of a safety net, the connections to others that we build and maintain become our support during times of need. We didn’t know it at the time but the bond that Carlos de Leon and I initiated that first day in class became a fellowship that would last us through our four years of the Corps and during a trial that would challenge the entire fabric of the greatest tradition on campus. Resilience has a social aspect. In the Corps of Cadets, I had begun to find my own resilience by jogging with my fish buddies in the dark, doing pushups with the officers of my outfit until I wanted to collapse, sitting in my classes with August and Carlos, and talking with many other cadets as we walked across campus in our khaki uniforms with the A&M patch on our sleeves. Our fellowship was the shared experience that bonded us together and made us stronger.
Resilience Lesson #6: Resilience is not an individual trait but one that is forged with other people.
Question: How can you enhance your sociality to bolster your network of support?
-- 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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