The balance of Scott’s address conveyed the usual admonishments to the graduates to set themselves the highest goals they could and pursue them with all their might while remembering that they were humans, living in a world peopled by other humans like them. He tried to temper his “give it all you got” message with warnings that they needed to live full and healthy lives all along the way. And though, when he finished, he had no idea just how much of what he said was heard in the way he wanted it, the rousing ovation at the end at least signaled that what he had said was appreciated.

After all the speeches, awards, and ceremonial duties had been completed, Nathan Dixon’s class rose as a single body, for one last time, and let loose with a thunderous cheer. And then, before any of them knew what they were doing, it dispersed forever. Nate, as he was called, took as much time as he dared to shake the hands of fellow classmates, embrace several with fierce bear hugs, and bid a few special friends fond farewells that would have been emotional had they lingered. It was a wild and jumbled time for Nate, a fitting end to the four long and arduous years spent exiled to a small college nestled in the mountains of western Virginia. Though he was glad to be done with it, deep down inside Nate knew this place would always be a part of him. His father had warned him of that. “Your years here at VMI, Nate, will be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, or will ever experience again. You’ll alternate between loving it and hating it, sometimes on the very same day. But let there be no doubt about this. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, it will always be a part of you. Whether the memories and experiences you carry away from here are good ones or bad will depend on how you choose to embrace this institution.” Then, after looking over his shoulders first one way then the next to make sure no one was near enough to hear, Scott Dixon leaned forward and whispered in his son’s ear. “Do yourself a favor, lad, and don’t take this place too seriously. Remember, God is on the side of the person with the best sense of humor.”

Taking that advice to heart, Nate Dixon had wandered through four years at VMI, spending as much time in trouble as out. From his first day there, he had been marked as a nonconformist who could not resist speaking his mind. While a member of the cadre was instructing Nate and his fellow rats, or freshmen, on how to fold and properly store socks so that they were all neatly lined up, Nate had watched in utter amazement. When the cadre finished and asked if there were any questions, Nate raised his hand and, straight faced, asked, “Isn’t that being a bit anal?”