The test of every relationship is this:
Does it inject energy into your existence; or, does it hijack, kidnap energy from your life?
This is true of personal friendships, marriages, business alliances, employees, mutually owned vacation homes, hunting leases, co-oped airplanes, and all situations in which we flawed humans engage with others of the species.
It took me some time to discover and understand this, but it has served me well for many years. I consider it revealed wisdom.
Which brings me to the subject of wisdom itself. I have said this before:
Wisdom is the exercise of good judgment over a protracted period of time. It must be earned.
Good judgment is the product of experience. It must be done.
Experience entails the exercise of much bad judgment. It must be endured.
Wisdom, therefore, requires one to get out into the world and make decisions, live with the consequences, sort out the good learnings from the bad, and move on down the road toward wisdom.
Which brought me to Lexington, Virginia this past weekend to celebrate the 50th Reunion of the VMI Class of 1973 (widely acknowledged and acclaimed to have been the best class to have ever marched through Jackson Arch.)
I left Lexington, Virginia inspired and energized which is all the proof I need to know I was in the company of good men.
Yes, of course. But first a word about this Institute. Indulge me. I promise I will only do this every half century.
Virginia Military Institute is a hard place to be, but a good place to be from. Our class matriculated at the height of the Vietnam War, a crucible moment for all of us individually and for the country.
It was toward the end of the Analog Age and many, like me, had never even seen a picture of the place. [It is a lovely bit of military, fortress architecture hidden in the Shenandoah Valley (where the Holy Ghost spends His springs and autumns).]
VMI produces “citizen-soldiers” — in my day, all men, who are prepared to drop their plows and pick up their rifles to defend their Commonwealth and the Nation. These VMI men are quite good at both their plowing and their soldiering.
Amongst the many graduates who have taken up arms, one of VMI’s most illustrious was George Catlett Marshall — Winston Churchill described him as The Architect of Victory in World War II.
Marshall would serve the Nation as a 5-star general, Chief of Staff of the Army, the President’s primary World War II advisor, Secretary of State, Secretary of Defense, Envoy to China, and President of the American Red Cross.
He would be the primary mover behind the Marshall Plan to rescue Europe from the clutches of a menacing Russia Communism for which he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
Marshall was a VMI man and is the universal yardstick by which VMI measures itself and we measure ourselves. I consider him to be second only to George NMI Washington in the hall of greatness of those that made this country.
Yes, of course.
We gathered in Lexington to celebrate and to re-establish the bonds that were made by our mutual experience at this hard little place. It is a bond unknown to any other school. We are called Brother Rats. [Ronald Reagan starred in a movie of the same name about VMI.]
Amongst my Brother Rats are generals, colonels, Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, and Coast Guard men, fighter pilots, ship captains, tankers, redlegs, combat engineers, and men who jumped out of perfectly good airplanes.
There are doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs, educators, financial wizards, engineers, power plant builders, fisher folk, construction professionals, business executives, company presidents, and CEOs. There are authors, artists, and politicians. There are ministers and black ops/Delta chaps.
In a world populated by 98% bullshitters, these men are amongst the 2% who are doers. VMI produces doers.
What I find infinitely interesting is the magnificent accomplishments of those who hid their talent under a bushel basket whilst at VMI. Bravo and well played!
The VMI Brother Rat is an oddity in that they can have not seen each other for more than a quarter of a century and continue a conversation that began at that time as if it had never ceased.
I ran into a good friend of mine at VMI in the parking lot of the Lexington Golf and Country Club (we had a golf tourney with no prizes) and had a chat one could only have had with a close friend. We agreed on every aspect of a novel subject — our mutual love for this transformative place.
Your unsuspecting Rat arrives at VMI and is immediately shorn of all former glories and hair. That first day is truly levelling as you are stripped of every bit of external identity and thrown into itchy, ill-fitting clothing and given a little book called a Rat Bible and told to memorize it.
VMI is the greatest meritocracy I have ever encountered. Who you were before you set foot on that Post is completely irrelevant. From that first day, you must claw and fight to become the man who will leave four years later educated and prepared to bite the ass off a bear at sunrise.
A quick word about the VMI education. With the accumulated wisdom of half a century, I believe it is the finest combination of learnings available in our country.
VMI stands near the top of any listing of American engineering and liberal arts colleges — quite unusual to be on both of those lists.
It sits atop — literally first — amongst schools whose grads are gainfully employed 90 days after graduation.
The VMI education must be carefully defined to be fully understood; it is academic, leadership, character development, and social dexterity.
I have spoken to the quality of its academic standing and the leadership aspect both of which are evidence of the character development and the rigor of its single sanction — you get drummed out in an eerie, chilling military tattoo in the middle of the night after a trial before your cadet leaders and peers — honor system.
What I have not touched upon is this — when you live four men to a room so small you have to roll up your mattress and put it against the wall, you learn how to get along with others which is a quality I call “social dexterity.”
That unique combination of academic, leadership, character development, and social dexterity is why my Brother Rats are doers.
Yes, of course. We had a lovely dinner on Friday night in which Brother Rats and their stunning ladies dined in elegant splendor in a building that did not exist when we were cadets. There were speeches and there was a lovely meal. The Superintendent gave an excellent, witty speech.
[Personal opinion: the new Supe is growing into the job and is going to be a huge asset to VMI. I like the cut of this man’s jib and his sense of humor.]
There was an equally lovely Saturday night dinner at a be-Springed Valley farm under a naturally perfumed, clear, night sky.
The star of the weekend was the Hospitality Suite that was filled with a broad offering of liquid refreshment, but was drowned in fellowship and storytelling.
The Hospitality Suite was evidence of accumulated wisdom and whoever selected that location stands in high regard.
On Saturday morning there was a parade by the Corps of Cadets — which looked smashing — to honor the Class of 1973 followed by barbaric chanting rituals conducted inside the four level barracks.
We planted a tree — the first ever in the history of VMI reunions — to chide the cadets, the faculty, the administration, and the alumni into recognizing the necessity of being united in our love of VMI.
The VMI Class of 1973 Unity Tree, a water or swamp oak that will last for 350 years at the entrance to the Post Exchange and under its soon to be sprawling branches great moments shall be written. This tree was paid for by the Washington Post.
We presented a check for $7.3MM to the Institute and we delivered a Resolution that garnered almost universal support from our Brother Rats.
I am told we had a record high level of attendance, but I cannot independently confirm that.
It was great fun to see all the men I had not seen for, well, fifty years, some of them.
[Note to self: Research hip, knee replacement manufacturers as potential attractive investment opportunity.]
There are forty-one men in our class who died and were remembered in a touching service — complete with a bagpiper — in Jackson Memorial Hall, presided over by one of our Brother Rats. Our most highly decorated BR lit the candle and our highest ranking BR extinguished it.
We called the roll of those who were dead and we each reverently spoke the name of a roommate or good friend. Holding the name of one of my deceased roommates made me think with good humor of all the great times we had had and how much I and the world missed him.
We left that hall and mingled outside and it was a time when a bit of moisture in the corner of your eye was the not a bad thing.
I personally missed a number of Brother Rats I would love to have seen, but we are all held hostage to our lives. Know you were missed.
OK, here’s the bottom line:
1. From half a century down the road, my graduating from VMI in the company of these good men was the singularly most important turning point in my life.
2. We were, are, and will continue to be the kind of men who will ensure our Republic prevails.
3. We are what is the best about America and this is, in good part, because VMI is a good place to be from and because its transformative power is real.
4. We are cheerful men which is in very short supply these days.
I left energized and inspired and that is the yardstick I use to evaluate things as I noted.
My Brother Rats and I are looking collectively at the winding down of our tours of duty, but I do not intend to go quietly into that dark night.
When the Devil comes for me, I will remind him I took Rat Boxing and can handle a bayonet. If I lose the first round, I will say, “Let’s go best of three, Old Boy?”
I am a member of the Class of 1973 of the Virginia Military Institute and I will always hold that distinction. I was educated and grew into manhood in the company of good men and I love every one of my Brother Rats.
God bless us all. God bless the Virginia Military Institute that has blessed us all so profoundly.
