Ears to Hear

Robert Aleph's Personal Blog Site

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I seek to share the light, life and peace that I have received.

  • Desperado (LITC 20)

    Reflections on August 1962, August 1976 and August 14-15, 2026

    I dropped my daughter off at Purdue yesterday, and you got your shoulderboards today. Not related? Hear me out.

    I’m guessing that a lot of you in CGA 2030 have had the experience of going through a cheer tunnel. Not me. Until yesterday. And it felt good. Gold pompons waving, yays and whoops, energy!

    The occasion was checking our daughter in for Purdue’s Boiler Gold Rush, their orientation week. Not the same as swab summer, but a set of challenges nonetheless. I’m proud of our girl for being super organized and ready to join in. Later, hugs and goodbyes. Reminded me of your reporting day.

    On the drive back home, though, it hit me: our home now has an empty room that used to have our daughter in it. Looking inward, I found a hole in my heart, a loss. Sound familiar?

    Sixty-four years ago, a dear friend of mine was dropped off at an Ivy League university by his proud family. But during his second semester, he struggled. That spring, he returned home, downcast. It took a long time for him to get his life back on track. He is thriving today, thank God.

    By the end of the CGA 1980 swab summer, 49 of our class (15%) were gone. Kerry Williams was one of them. In the honor platoon picture of X-Ray 1, Kerry is standing next to me because we were friends. He was kind, thoughtful and good natured. The hole from losing my friend is still there.

    It looks like most of CGA 2030 is still on board. Those of you that I’ve met keep showing up in the pictures. Good job! One of my prayers for you is that you set a CGA record for retention.

    What went wrong in my day? What is going right in yours? How can we keep the momentum?

    In a word, support.

    Baby Boomers like me, my friend and my classmates were trained to be self-sufficient. Excessively, I would say. We heard phrases like this a lot: “sink or swim”, “survival of the fittest” and “every man for himself.”

    When our swab summer came to an end, there was no ceremony. There was no time with parents. It was just on to the next challenge, sink or swim. “If you can’t handle it, take a hike.”

    Somewhere along the way, the CGA leadership stopped saying those phrases. They realized that you need support to be successful. The shoulderboard ceremony: brilliant. Training the cadre how to be cadre: brilliant. Daily photodumps of your progress: brilliant.

    A big problem with the self-sufficiency paradigm is that we aren’t. We need each other. Get enough holes in your heart, and your heart loses hope. But the self-sufficient cadet could not show that weakness. “Survival of the fittest” and all that. Some, including me, resorted to addiction as a form of self-medication for the wounds. I kept on swimming for 30+ years. Then I sank.

    The first step in recovering from addiction was to admit to myself that my life had become unmanageable. Then I got help. I will always remember the day when my sponsor, Frederik, said that he loved me just as I was. He taught me the importance of self-care and support. The holes started to heal through the support of my higher power, Jesus.

    So 2030, don’t try to go it alone. If you start sinking, call for help. It’s not weakness, it’s strength. I say, “survival for all.” You have already shown your fitness, or you wouldn’t be there.

    When I was back for my 50th reunion last fall, some cadets told me about CALM, a support program by cadets, for cadets. “At the heart of CALM is the belief that no cadet should face life’s challenges alone.” Amen to that.

    And remember, CGA 1980 is here to support you, too. One class for the other so that all may succeed.

    Blessings,

    Robert Aleph

  • From the Beginning (LITC 19)

    Reflections on August 1976 from the perspective of August 2026

    The cadre told us to stencil our serial number on all of our issued items. Most everything was a dark color, so they gave us a white pen. The problem was that it had runny ink, and it flowed under the edges of the stencil. So, a zero ended up looking like a weird, runny doughnut. Not good when it’s on something you wear around. “What am I doing wrong?”, I asked myself. I did that a lot.

    When I look at all your pictures in the PDuddy posts, there aren’t any blotchy serial numbers on your gear, so someone must have found a better way to account for property. Bar codes, maybe?

    The whole point is identity. Who does this belong to? Who is accountable?

    Names do a better job than numbers of getting at identity. Names are loaded with meaning. I’ve been trying to learn your names by zooming in on your pictures. Swabs Keating, Capobianco, Glover, Gallard, Kim, Kennedy, Cochran, Rodrigo, Davis and Walker: you went to chapel last Sunday. Good job! Unless the primary motivation was doughnuts…JK.

    Have you come up with any nicknames for your classmates yet? We had a lot of classmates with the same name, so Jim Sylvester became Sly. If you see Sly, please tell him Bob wants to get back in touch. Ralph (do you know what it means to ralph yet?) became Trucker (his last name is similar to the brand Peterbilt.) Baird didn’t seem as serious as his name, so he became Tex, even though he’s from Pennsylvania. Tex comes across like a country singer to me.

    The nicknames became part of their CGA identities, and all of our names became part of our CGA 1980 identity. We wouldn’t be who we are without Trucker, Tex, Sly and Deacon Blues.

    What identity is CGA 2030 giving? Serious? Goofy? Top dawg? What I think I see as I get to know you is that you are earnest, you make a good effort, and you seem to enjoy each other’s company. My stepdaughter is your age, and I’d say that the COVID experience shaped her. Every day that’s not in lockdown is a day to be seized. You seem to be having more fun than I remember having, too.

    My sense is that you have all been called to CGA for a reason. Ada, Elliot, Annabelle, Bo, Spencer and every single one of you is an essential part of the whole. Could it be that it was meant to be from the beginning? That CGA 2030 has been uniquely designed for certain plans and purposes?

    Based on my experience, I believe so. Vietnam and Watergate influenced us to question authority and be skeptical about rules and regulations We often ask, “Where’s the party?” I didn’t think that we’d have a Commandant in our class, and we didn’t. But we trained one: ADM Charlie Ray, CGA 1981. And Fred (Saco) often mentions how he was company officer to your Superintendent, RADM Rothrock. Wayward we may have been, but that equipped us to lead the Coast Guard through a lot of transitions. Because we were always looking for better ways to do things, we found them. Whenever you feel like it, you can thank us for our legacy. JK. Go out and make your own.

    Where’s the party?

    Deacon

  • Spinning Wheel (LITC 18)

    Reflections on July 1976 and July 2026

    I remember the wall. The height of it. The pressure builds as the line gets shorter. Taller as I get closer. Jump! Yes – a grip on the top edge. Kinda rough. Pull, swing legs. A long way down on the other side. Must be safe, or they wouldn’t make us do it. Whump. I made it. One test down, many more to come. Most of it is just a blur now.

    I really enjoyed meeting you all as you walked up to Roland Hall on reporting day. There were many different expressions, but generally you seemed more confident and prepared than I remember being.

    The Provost, Dr. Donahue, was there, too. I took the opportunity to ask her a question that came up when I met with Elliot and Spencer back in Illinois. “What was the turning point for CGA in terms of increased retention?” She said that it was a strategic move at all of the service academies about 10-15 years ago. They were guided by advances in the science of learning, which measured performance and skill development under conditions of stress and strain. They redesigned swab summer to maximize development and minimize attrition. “Good idea,” I said.

    A larger trend is at work, also, it seems to me. In the 1940s, the average global death rate from armed conflict was more than 100 per 100,000 people. By 1958, the year I was born, it had dropped to 6.4. Although it bounced back up to 23.5 by 1971, it dropped to the rate of 1 in 100,000 people by the end of the century, and it has been at about that level since (Our World in Data). I think they were trying to toughen us up for the next war when I entered the academy in 1976. But now that death in war is a much less likely occurrence, the goal is to build up rather than toughen up, and I am glad of it.

    Since reporting day, I’ve been following you on FB through the PDuddy photo dumps. I have to say that your training seems very well organized and that you seem to be doing well. The obstacle course has been redesigned with a greater emphasis on teamwork and agility. But still challenging. Great job, Dr. Donahue!

    One of my favorite Bible verses begins this way: “All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose…” (Romans 8:38) I would submit that the Class of 2030 has been called according to His purpose, and I definitely see evidence that all things are, in fact, working together for your good.

    Before long, it will be your turn to run swab summer as cadre, then to manage it as company officers, then to strategize the training program as senior officers. I believe you will do very well, with God’s help.

    Go 2030!

    Captain Weil

  • If I Were a Carpenter (LITC 17)

    Reflections on June 20, 2026 about the day June 28, 1976

    Generally, I believe in progress. I’m usually willing to leave old traditions in my wake and steer towards the innovations that appear on the horizon. But there is one particular value handed down to me over time that I have learned to steer by if I am to stay on course: the importance of the words I speak, particularly the promises I make.

    The oath of office for military officers has deep roots. An early version of it, the oath to be taken by the President of the U.S., is included in the constitution itself. The version I swore to in 1976 is the same one you will raise your hand to in just nine days from now:

    “I, [Name], do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”

    Military officers have taken an oath to this effect since 1884, with the words updated in 1966.

    Today, words are often used loosely to attract attention. Sometimes, I want to comment in all caps, “WORDS HAVE MEANING!” Period. But I don’t want to come across as a grumpy old man. Hopefully, you can hear me when I say that there are times when words need to be taken to heart because you are making a promise to live by.

    I suppose that begs two questions: 1) what does it mean to support and defend the Constitution of the United States anyway? and 2) did I keep my promise?

    Essentially, the oath calls upon us to defend the United States against forces that would harm it, whether they be from other countries or homegrown. But the word “constitution” has special meaning. It is the highest law of the land, and it also reflects the design of our system of government. One of the fundamental principles is that no leader or branch of government has ultimate authority. Those who wrote the Constitution were guided by the Christian principle that all people miss the mark in what we do and what we fail to do. Including those in high office. No human being is worthy of our ultimate allegiance.

    Have I upheld my oath? I do remember when I took it: formed in ranks on the football field, dressed in chambray, and feeling the pressure of all the expectations and changes that came with the day. Still, I remember telling myself, “I believe this and will try to do what I’m promising.” The tag line, “So help me God” gave me hope.

    It seems like He did help me. He put me in positions where I was actually able to contribute to the mission of defense. Thankfully, He didn’t put me in positions that I wasn’t able to handle. And I always worked as part of a great team, including my CGA 80 classmates. Thank You, Lord.

    Our constitution is a treasure. According to Microsoft Copilot, it is the oldest written national constitution still in force anywhere in the world, it is extremely short with only seven articles, it promises relatively little to citizens, it is extremely difficult to amend, and it sets forth a federal structure with limited powers. As a basis of comparison, I know of a country that has had twenty constitutions in the 100+ years since it began the path to a constitutional monarchy.

    One of my most memorable courses at CGA was on the history of the U.S. It was taught by then-Lieutenant Ernie Blanchard, who inspired me with his deep sense of American exceptionalism. I still have two of the papers I wrote in his class. I pray that you will have instructors that inspire you with the same kind of passion. There is more to the story of Ernie Blanchard and USCGA, but I will save that for another time.

    To be informed and to vote are also ways of supporting the Constitution. In our day, we received the New York Times and Atlantic Monthly on our Chase Hall doorsteps. I read them with interest. The quality of critical thinking in those publications, at least then, was excellent. They contributed to my training on thinking through the issues and weighing all sides. I carry that mindset with me to the ballot box in every election.

    So, 2030, I encourage you make your oath matter. I will be there to witness it. And I promise to support you in fulfilling it.

    Sincerely,

    Robert

  • Hair (LITC 16)

    Reflections on the date of June 29, 1976

    In my day, long hair was a statement. It began as a form of protest against the war in Vietnam, as if to say, “Hell no, I won’t go.” Hair the musical hit Broadway in 1968. At first, the older generation sneered at long-haired men, but by 1976 it was somewhat normalized.

    Mine was shoulder length, not that radical. Still, I felt the loss that day I stepped off the barber’s chair at CGA. By the time I retired 30 years later, most of my hair had fallen out, so I still keep it short.

    Hair. Does it make the man? (or woman?)

    As I reflect on this question, it brings to mind my struggle to maintain some sense of identity during that first grueling year as a swab. After all, we were told that the point of our training (hazing) was to break us down and then build us up in the academy image. They called it the “farm” in those days, as if we were heads of lettuce.

    “Who am I?” is one of the big hairy questions we all must find the answer to (Men’s Fraternity | Home)

    Two stereotypes emerged for cadets in my day. You were either a “sweat” or a “slacker.” A sweat lived to follow the rules to the nth degree. A slacker lived to follow the rules to the least extent possible. Slackers were more popular than sweats.

    It’s a false dichotomy, though: a logical distortion, a fallacy of thinking that things must be all one way or the other. The truth is often dual. Human nature is an example: we all are both good and bad in some ways. Leland R. Beaumont (Emotional Competency – Explore the Logic of Passion) writes, “A clever Zen master teaches his students to reject a false dichotomy and go beyond polarized thinking with the following challenge. He places a cup of tea before the student, then says ‘If you drink that cup of tea, I will beat you with a stick, and if you don’t drink that cup of tea I will beat you with a stick.’ The student has to reject the false dichotomy, recognize options other than the two presented, and create other alternatives, such as offering the tea to the instructor, or asking his advice, to avoid punishment.”

    So, how to navigate the sweat/slacker situation? Honestly, I was stuck in the false dichotomy during my cadet days. I was pretty much a sweat as a swab and 3/c year, then a slacker after my fall from grace. But since then, I’ve learned a few things.

    The answer is neither. Both sweats and slackers are reacting to external factors. The sweat is seeking rewards from the system, the slacker is giving it the finger. The third way is to find intrinsic motivation. Do your best because you sincerely believe in what you are doing. Haircuts are not for scoring points but for serving a purpose. With the right way of thinking, you can actually enjoy being a squared away sailor.

    Who am I? One way of looking at that question is that your true identity is not to be found in anything that can be taken away from you: hair, rank, peoples’ opinions of you. Your true identity is rooted in what stays with you after losing those things: what you think and believe, your intrinsic gifts, your character.

    Things started to turn around for me when I found my identity in Jesus. The real change happened 30 years later, after I had lost many of those external things. I did a lot of soul searching and desperate prayer, then something amazing happened. On my knees, I asked, “Are you my Father?” I heard the answer in my mind, in a voice not my own: “I AM.”

    After I leaned into this reality, my gifts were revealed to me. One of them is mentoring, which is why I am highly motivated to participate in the Link in the Chain program.

    When I live to serve His purposes, there’s no question of being a sweat or a slacker. I am His. Even if I don’t have hair.

    Yours truly,

    Robert Aleph

  • Ride, Captain, Ride (LITC 15)

    Reflections back to June 28, 1976 and forward to June 29, 2026

    All epic adventures begin with a call. Jesus called the twelve, the Fellowship of the Ring was called to Rivendell, and the Reaping placed a call on Katniss and Peeta. Both you and I, in our respective times, received a call to the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. The story of the Class of 2030 begins.

    I remember little of my trip to CGA. The only thing I really recall is that I traveled with Bill, who carries himself with intelligence, reserve and poise. I felt intimidated. With good reason, actually. Bill finished ahead of me in the class with dual engineering degrees, earned flag rank, and served as a district commander and Judge Advocate General. Bill remembers where we changed planes, where we landed, and that we stayed at the Holiday Inn in New London.

    My problem was that I was always asking myself, “What’s next?” A functional habit in a way, but it caused me to fly right through one of the most important experiences in my life.

    I have since learned to be more mindful of the moment. Instead of “What’s next?”, I ask myself, “What is being revealed in this moment?” and “What am I being called to do right now?”

    This morning, I felt called to finish a Corps Conversations podcast I had started. Each episode is an interview of a successful alum by a 1/c cadet and a recent graduate. Their stories help me better understand the progression of the Coast Guard since my day. Today’s interview gave me a sighting on a topic of interest: imposter syndrome. In my day, we didn’t have words to describe that problem, but it was rampant. The ’07 grad talked about it as a shoal she navigated around. The ’26 cadet saw it on his stern quarter. That is a good news story.

    The years of our calling have historical significance. The first cadets were called to the academy (then the Revenue Cutter Service School of Instruction) in 1876, which was 100 years before me and 150 years before you. We reported in when the nation turned 200 years old and you are called when the nation will turn 250. You will mentor the Class of 2080, who will be called the year our nation turns 300. Assuming we can keep the republic, as Benjamin Franklin famously called us to do.

    Your individual USCG stories will start on June 29, 2026. Importantly, your Class of 2030 story will start then as well. All of your individual stories will come together into your class story. Each of you will have a claim to the failures and accomplishments of each other’s. To a greater degree than you realize, you will impact each other. So, I now smile when I think of what Bill did for the nation during his Coast Guard career as well as the political advocacy he still engages in. I also feel a surge of pride when I think of the Icebreakers, the female cadets of “80 who made history.

    My classmates have some interesting stories of their travels to CGA. One first met another classmate from his hometown of Las Vegas at the same Holiday Inn where Bill and I were staying. Stu reports that his new friend had a bathtub filled with ice and ice-cold beer. It was good night. Another classmate caught a few Zs on a subway bench in NYC after enjoying a concert at Battery Park. He had been called to CGA from an enlisted assignment on Governor’s Island. The next morning, Amtrak delivered him to join us newbies lined up at Chase Hall. A female cadet decided to dump her then-boyfriend on the road trip to New London, only to meet her future husband in our ranks. Another visited a girl in Newport who might have become his girlfriend, but lost touch with her. All of these things happened for a reason, I am sure. Their stories are now part of our Class of ’80 story.

    So, I call on you to learn each other’s stories and tell them yours. Take the time to mark the occasion and the reasons for your call to CGA. You are joining a long blue line that has served the nation with honor for almost 250 years.

    Proudly,

    Captain Robert Aleph

  • Young Americans (LITC 14)

    Reflections on the date of May 17, 1976 and May 17, 2026

    My stepdaughter graduates from high school today in the Class of 2026, like many of you. She is an impressive young person – her first seven years of school were in Thailand and the last five here in the states. Twice, she was my student in a science class that I taught. But I can’t take any credit; she taught herself much more than what I taught her. My greatest role was to encourage her.

    Her Project Graduation is tonight, and it reminds me of the equivalent event in my day.

    I had admired Vicki from afar all through high school. She was smart, cute, classy and international. But I never got the nerve to talk with her. Then, at our Project Graduation party, she must have smiled at me or something, and we talked most of the night. Soon after, though, I went away to CGA. We did keep in touch for a while. I’m thankful for the chance to know her a little bit.

    My confession is that I felt a lot of fear in my interactions with the opposite sex in those days. Looking back on it, I think this stemmed from a more basic fear of not measuring up. The locker room talk in my day was crude boasting about sexual conquests, physical anatomy, and that sort of thing. (How is it today, I wonder?) The unspoken message was that the only was to be a winner as a man was to have sex with a large number of beautiful women. Guys like me were losers.

    This belief system was probably the root cause of the misogyny experienced by the courageous female cadets who took up residence in Chase Hall in the summer of 1976. What they experienced (See Kathy Hamblett’s excellent article “Freak of Nature“) included voyeurism, condescension, crude propositions and worse. I was probably not the worst offender, but I did nothing to stop the injustice, either.

    I was living in fear. It’s not uncommon, even among the kings of the locker room jungle.

    The opposite of fear is _____.

    Fear is at the root of most of my dysfunctional behaviors. My anger is often rooted in fear. Anxiety, depression, isolation, over-compensation…I’m afraid the list is very long.

    I want to share a passage from John’s first letter because it helped me a lot. John was an old man like me when he wrote words to this effect: “Fear not, because fear has to do with punishment, and God’s perfect love drives out fear.”

    “Fear not.” I often meditate on these words.

    The opposite of fear is not courage, but joy. Joy, like fear, is a fundamental human emotion. Courage is a choice, not an emotion. Joy displaces fear.

    I no longer live in fear of not measuring up. Instead, I now take joy in living for the purposes for which I was made. Part of that is mentoring you, 2030, both male and female.

    I mentor many people now, and it seems to make a difference. The feeling I have is like being on a beam reach with steady wind filling my sails. I am propelled by a power not my own.

    My advice is to seek the One who has power over death and fear.

    If you need help, that is what I am here for.

    Sincerely,

    Robert Aleph

  • Tangled Up In Blue (LITC 13)

    Reflections on May 1976

    It was supposed to be a big day for me, the honor ceremony at my high school. An officer of the U.S. Coast Guard stood at the podium and announced my appointment to the academy. But he was less than impressive. He looked a bit disheveled, he stumbled over his words, and he lacked energy. A classmate wrote in my yearbook, “Congratulations on getting in the academy, but I hope you don’t turn out like that guy who was at the awards!”

    How could this have happened in the world’s premiere Coast Guard? Was he just having a bad day? Or maybe he had been passed over for promotion and didn’t care anymore.

    Hate to break it to ya’ 2030, but there will probably be times when our service lets you down. Most of the force is highly motivated and professional, but some are not. Most systems have been regularly improved and optimized, but some have not. Don’t be bitter about it. Be wise.

    That time, 1976, was a low point in the history of our service. We had attracted a lot of people who were not really interested in serving, just in not going to Vietnam. (The USCG did suffer casualties in theater, but not in the same numbers as other armed services.) We had recently lost our original home in the Department of Treasury to pad the budget of the newly formed Department of Transportation. Our uniforms had gone from Navy Blue to the “Bender Blues” after the Commandant in the early ’70s. People said we looked like bus drivers.

    May it never be so again. Things turned around right after our graduation in 1980. President Reagan invested in all of the armed services in his successful bid to outspend the Kremlin. Beards were shaved under the order of our new Commandant, ADM Paul Yost. “Welcome to the Yost Guard,” we said.

    Being plankowners of the Department of Homeland Security, formed in 2003, has served us well. A better fit than Treasury, actually. Your mentors in ’80 had a big role in this transition, including yours truly. The Bender Blues gave way to BDUs.

    It’s hard to imagine a world in which our service goes back to the dog days of 1976. But anything is possible. Be wise.

    It won’t be long until you have the con. Keep a weather eye on the shifting winds of politics and culture. Be ruthless about trimming fat and adding value. Consistently measure and improve processes. Cultivate a warrior spirit and think purple, even as you keep the peace. Represent the Coast Guard with honor on every occasion, even if it’s just a high school awards ceremony.

    Semper Paratus,

    CAPT, USCGR (ret) sends

  • Ohio (LITC 12)

    Reflections on May 4, 1970 and May 4, 1976

    Tin soldiers and Nixon’s comin’;
    We’re finally on our own.
    This summer I hear the drummin’
    Four dead in Ohio.

    I was 11 years old and living overseas. When Time magazine was delivered to our apartment that summer, it showed a Kent State student lying dead on the ground. A young girl kneeled over him in shock.

    Authority. Under whose authority were four unarmed students shot and ten wounded?

    President Nixon called the students “bums.” The Ohio governor hid behind the need to maintain law and order in the face of campus unrest. The National Guardsmen said they were following an order to open fire, but that was never shown to be true. Four dead in Ohio.

    That summer, bumper stickers began appearing with this imperative: “Question Authority.”

    I have to admit that my choice of CGA was influenced by these killings and others by the US Government. I wanted to serve but not to kill.

    Authority. It was harder to believe in it. By 1970, those who had served in WWII, including both of my parents as well as Nixon, seemed to be losing ground in a futile defense of traditional values, including respect for authority.

    On this date 50 years ago, I had accepted my appointment to CGA. I enjoyed the senior celebrations, but my mind was already elsewhere. I had high hopes but also trepidation. Would I have what it takes?

    It takes a solid self to exercise authority well. A leader that relies only on the office (e.g., Nixon) is weak. A leader who asks for permission to exercise authority is worse. The ideal is a leader who has ability as well as strength of character, giving followers the sense that they are serving with a purpose and will be taken care of. I can’t say that I have ever reached this ideal, but I am closer now than I was in 1976. Kent State didn’t help, though.

    Authority. Last week, I was prompted to reflect the topic. It suddenly occurred to me the “Question Authority” bumper stickers were still floating around in my belief system. Not a good thing when you yourself are in a position of authority. I decided to clarify my thinking.

    “If I have been put in a position of authority, it is for a reason,” I told myself. Questioning my own authority doesn’t help anyone. Listening to followers and earning their trust – that’s good. They actually taught us a lot about that at CGA. Yet it is up to me to call it as I see it, even at their expense and at the cost of their approval of me. That is the area where I needed to be stronger. So, I decided to be.

    After I clarified my thinking, there was a positive change in my leadership interactions. I’m a bit closer to the ideal.

    Authority. How about you? Are there events in your life that shape your thinking, for good or ill? It’s interesting that CGA 1930 and CGA 2030 both came of age in a worldwide pandemic. How did that shape you?

    Still learning after all these years,

    Robert

  • The Pretender (LITC 11)

    Reflections on April 1976

    A long time ago in a land not far away, a young man answered the call to accept an appointment to the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. He boarded a plane to Hartford, CT along with a classmate who seemed a bit more self-assured and smart than him. Putting that behind him in the rush of the day, he took the oath with his heart in his chest, and he threw himself into swab summer with all he had. It went well. He stood tall on a yardarm as Eagle moored in Charleston, SC for Opsail ’76. He played football and then preferred the challenge of rowing. Silver and gold stars appeared on his collar with regularity and demerits were few.

    Then came a shock. A disturbing truth about his father, whom he adored, was revealed to him. He didn’t know how to talk about it. “If he’s not who I though he was, who am I?” The same things he had been doing for the past two years suddenly seemed much more difficult. “Disciplining the underclassmen? I don’t even feel like keeping my room squared away.” He was referred to an Executive Board hearing. Based on his record, he was retained but on the condition that he would not be considered for regimental leadership for the rest of his time at CGA. “No problem. I don’t think I could handle that anyway.”

    He had quit the crew team. But his former coach, Bill Stowe, somehow saw the hole in his heart and did what he could to fill it. There were weekends at the Gales Ferry boathouse and a road trip to Acadia Park in Maine. Don’t tell anyone, but Bill helped the cadet with pranks on the tyrannical company officer. Yes, that definitely felt good.

    Then there was his civil engineering professor, Doc Dunn. No weekend trips or pranks, but instead steady, good-humored kindness and encouragement. By 1/c year, the shock had passed and the cadet got some of his footing back. He started rowing again, earned top academic honors, and even had a cute girlfriend, Nancy. The rest of the story is for another time.

    If the Link in the Chain program had been around during our time, the Class of 1980 would have been mentored by the class of 1930. This blows my mind. I really AM that old. Yet as difficult as it is to swallow, having mentors from that class would have helped me, just as Coach Stowe and Doc Dunn did. Even more so, because they shared the CGA experience.

    I just finished an amazing book, The Seven Basic Plots, by Christopher Booker. It took him 34 years to write it. He studied the patterns of stories from the beginning of human history right up to the 21st century. One of the things he found is that heroes inevitably go through stages of frustration and nearly impossible nightmares as they seek to solve their problems on their own. Only through the assistance of helpers can they make it, partly because they must learn to see differently. Think Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke, Gandalf and Frodo, or The Professor and Gilligan. Um, maybe not the last one.

    That’s what we’re here for, ’30. Can’t wait to meet you at your swearing-in.

    No longer a pretender,

    Robert Aleph