Correction: This article has been modified from its original version. Kevin Gillispie is the author of the column. The Collegiate Times regrets this error.
The more they sweat, the more their collars feel as though they're constricting.The sun presses like an iron against their faces and draws water from their skin. Their heads grow heavy and settle against their uniforms' rigid collars and they cannot breathe. It is not the cloth that shrinks, but their stamina.
The earth pulls on them and their feet ache. They parade for hours; they stand for more. If there is discomfort in the elements, it will find them -- or they will be taken to where it lies.
All this they do for a white cord and a maroon cardigan -- simple symbols of a massive heritage.
The hoi polloi may covet the college life for admirable reasons -- elevated condition, a claim on exclusive knowledge in an exotic field of study -- but these aspirations, once claimed, are as fickle as cascading water. Social and financial status can change overnight. The glut of subprime loans has demonstrated this. New and better research will amend or overturn the work someone has done and render them a celebrated novelty in good times; a fraud in bad.The great, unintended consequences of college life are not the degrees of erudition passed down from generation to generation. Let's face it: The truly initiated can get a world-class education with a library card. No, the great consequences are the living relationships.
And the magnitude of these relationships depends on how they're earned.
Many seek to "Go Greek." There is a sense of exclusivity in the rush initiation. Others gravitate to athletic organizations. The heightened competition differentiates them. But the trials associated with these endeavors do not change a person on a fundamental level.
There is no great weight of other's loss of life and limb bearing down upon what they do. They are not overwhelmed with the names and deeds of individuals far, far better than they could ever hope to be. For the typical individual, humility is a character trait; for those in the Highty Tighties -- and the Corps of Cadets generally -- humility is a sacred burden beyond that experienced by any ACC champion or cross-dressing pledge.
It is the juxtaposition of the idealism of the living with the sacrifices of the dead that makes this corps-driven gauntlet of whole-person development the place on campus where the greatest living relationships are forged.
Over the weekend, the Highty Tighty Alumni held their annual meeting. There were friends and food, levity and laughter, but, most notably, there was remembrance. The majority of the meeting was spent in remembering why the organization was so important to them: because of the people who have sacrificed and who continue to sacrifice so much to make it what it is today and to remember those who are no longer with them.
An alumnus who had been given a devastating diagnosis was shown unwavering support by the entirety of the organization -- both financially and emotionally. A venerable alumnus, who when asked what he wanted for (his last) Christmas said all that he wanted was his Highty Tighty sweater, was held up as an exemplar of the Highty Tighty spirit. And, of course, the man who is among those individuals referred to above as far, far better than any could hope, better than any could ever dream, to be: Matthew Joseph La Porte. (For those unfamiliar with this man, go to the Virginia Tech homepage and click on the link marked "We Remember.")
The Regimental Commander of the Corps of Cadets gave a speech that outlined his immigration from Kuwait to Tech. He expressed his gratitude for being given the gift of an American education and his soon-to-be-approved U.S. citizenship. He reflected on how only in this country could a non-native be granted acceptance into an organization such as the Corps of Cadets and then be promoted to its highest rank. And amid all his gratitude and joy a secret regret emerged from his speech. He will always lament not being a Highty Tighty.
The relationships formed among these people were built on the pain and strife of a common challenge and the deep happiness in acquiring something that can never be taken away: having lived as a cadet and bandsman and sharing the gauntlet shoulder-to-shoulder with one's buds.
This lifestyle isn't for everyone. It isn't meant to be. What one must understand is that all the knowledge a curriculum throws at a student will amount to nothing more than curios on a coffee table once the tribulations of real life walk through the door. People need people they can trust more than any intellectual resource. And such people will only be found if the right college lifestyle is chosen.It is on these "fields of friendly strife" that the Corps offers that the contributions of those gone on before these cadets -- these Highty Tighties -- live on with the same force as the new deeds of the young blood. Other lifestyles can produce trusted individuals, but it is this lifestyle that guarantees them.As a dramatic example of the longevity of these living relationships, the Highty Tighties and the Highty Tighty Alumni Band perform together once per year at the Homecoming football game. The current HTs form up at one end of Worsham field with the HT Alumni at the other. They march at one another and at mid-field, they walk into each other and become one musical mass.
The alumni come out the other end and then fall in behind the current HTs -- a maneuver symbolic of how the HT alumni are forever behind the endeavors of the current band. Then just as quickly as they amassed themselves, the two bands separate and stand as co-owners of an undying legacy -- one band with white cords, the other with maroon cardigans. The two symbols of everything these people have struggled to make their own, the two symbols of their great consequence.
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