Becoming A Noble Man Of Kyle: 92 Life Lessons I Learned From The Fightin' Texas Aggie Band

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about some aspect of my college days at Texas A&M. I had many experiences and learned a lot of life lessons there, and I frequently try to relate some of those experiences and life lessons to my daughters as they gradually grow into adolescence. However, I have found this task to be more difficult than it sounds. I have discovered that comprehending a lot of things at A&M almost requires knowledge of a particular language and culture—you might call it Aggie’ese. Therefore, my experiences and lessons sometimes get lost in the translation! So, I hope that this book will provide some explanation and insight so that everyone can understand me (and my Aggie language) better.

Let me first give you a brief explanation of some things. To you Aggies, a lot of this information will be repetitive. Please bear with me.

I attended A&M from 1988 until 1992, and I was privileged to be a member of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie Band and the Corps Of Cadets while I was there. Texas A&M is a unique university because of the Corps Of Cadets. The Corps at A&M is basically a military academy in a civilian setting. The organization is divided into military units, and all cadets receive ROTC training during their freshman and sophomore years. Many cadets go on to pursue careers in the armed forces, but such a commitment is not mandatory. All members of the organization live together on the Quad section of the A&M campus, placed in dorms according to their Corps outfit. Corps members wear military uniforms daily in addition to undergoing military training in the form of inspections, physical training, formations, marching, etc.

The Fightin’ Texas Aggie Band is the official band of Texas A&M University. All Band members are also required to be members of the Corps Of Cadets (i.e. anyone who wants to be in the Band must first join the Corps). Such members of the Aggie Band are known as BQ’s. The Aggie Band is actually its own military unit within the Corps, and therefore, members of the Band live together in Dorms 9 and 11 on the Quad. It is also possible to be in the Corps but not in the Band. Non-band members of the Corps are known as CT’s. You may notice me alternately referring to the Corps and the Band because I was a BQ—a member of both.

At one time, membership in the Corps was compulsory for all students at Texas A&M. Now, however, only approximately five percent of the student body (around 2,000 students) are members of the Corps, and only around 350 of those Corps members are BQ’s.

I have already introduced you to a couple of Corps terms, and there are a lot of others that you will encounter in the book. Wherever they appear, I have tried to give a brief explanation of those words and phrases. I have also included a brief glossary at the end of the book for convenient reference. Although it is fairly self-explanatory, I want to specifically point out that I have frequently substituted the word fish for the word freshman.

On the subject of possibly confusing terminology, I also want to point out some military terms that I use in reference to the Aggie Band. I refer to band practice as Aggie Band drill, and I sometimes refer to practicing as drilling. Similar, but different, is the fact that I call a performance by the Aggie Band a halftime drill. I use this terminology because the Aggie Band is a military unit, and it operates as such a unit.

Another thing that you may notice during your reading is the fact that I refer to cadets as he, him, or his (i.e. only masculine references). I have done this partly for the sake of simplicity. Another reason, though, is that when I was a member of the Corps of Cadets, female members were a definite minority. And female members of the Band were a huge minority. In fact, during my freshman year in the Band, there were only four female upperclassmen (sophomores, juniors, and seniors) in the organization. The first female to complete four years in the Aggie Band, Andrea Abat, ’89, was a senior during my freshman year. Also, my class in the Aggie Band (the Class of ’92) was the last class to complete four years in the Band without a female member.

It is important to be aware of the importance of class hierarchy in the Corps and Band. There are only four classes in the Corps and Band—freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors. There are no fifth year seniors. If a cadet completes his four years in the Corps and has not yet graduated, he then becomes a non-reg (a student who is not in the Corps) for the remainder of his time at A&M. Seniors, obviously, hold the highest rank of the cadets in the Corps, and therefore, enjoy the most freedom and privileges. Conversely, freshmen possess the fewest privileges and must work their way up the ladder to gain more and more privileges. It is also helpful to note that freshmen must address all upperclassmen as Mr. [LAST NAME], Sir.

Being a military organization, discipline is a daily part of life in the Corps. Such discipline mainly exists in the form of push-ups done by freshmen and administered by sophomores. Freshmen, having the most rules to follow, most frequently commit an infraction of the rules and therefore, pay retribution in the form of push-ups. Also linked to the military environment, sophomores frequently get their point across through yelling! Sophomores, although not subject to as many restrictions as freshmen, are the disciplinarians of the Corps and consequently work very hard.

Finally, I want to reiterate that through this book I hope to pass along some helpful life lessons that I gained from my time in the Aggie Band. This knowledge that I want to share is certainly not an exhaustive or detailed set of life instructions—it is only a collection of basic tidbits that I have found to be useful in living. As my wife would say, it’s not brain science or rocket surgery!

I have grouped these life lessons into eleven chapters, and each chapter contains messages of a similar theme. I have separated each chapter with a more lighthearted, or good bull, lesson. By the way, good bull is an Aggie term that refers to anything that is considered to be positive, good, fun, happy, etc.

I realize that anything having to do with Texas A&M can polarize a group of people, negatively or positively! So, I do want to issue the following disclaimer: Being a member of the Aggie Band is not the only way to learn this advice that I have disseminated in this book—I am not trying to champion the supremacy of Texas A&M, the Corps Of Cadets, or the Aggie Band. I am also not saying that being in the Band is the only way or even the best way to learn about life. Furthermore, I am not claiming that all BQ’s exemplify all of the qualities that I have discussed in this book. In fact, I am not even saying that I always exemplify all of the qualities that I have discussed in this book! I have found that writing this book has stepped on my own toes and has encouraged me to be more diligent and mindful of what I learned as a BQ.

What I am saying is that I believe that the life lessons about which I have written are useful and important for everyone. As the years have passed, I have seen how they have become more valuable to me. I hope that you enjoy the book and that you learn a few practical things, too.

*****

CHAPTER ONE—INTRODUCTION

Lesson One: Noble Men Of Kyle

I had the opportunity to play a lot of songs while I was in the Aggie Band, and I don’t think that I could narrow down my favorite song to any particular one. It’s true that there are some that we played that I don’t enjoy that much. However, there are several that I like a lot, and I don’t think that I could definitively say that I enjoy one of those more than the others. That being said, however, there is one song that has more of a special meaning to me than any of the others do.

I first noticed the song Noble Men Of Kyle while I was in high school. I went to several Aggie football games during that time, and therefore, I was able to see and hear the Aggie Band on several occasions. For some reason, Noble Men Of Kyle stood out to me even at that time. One time, I even attempted to write the melody of the song in bass clef so that I could play it on my trombone.

So, August of 1988 came, and I began my stint in the Aggie Band. And what do you know? The first time that we in the 1988-89 Aggie Band congregated in the Band Room for practice, Noble Men Of Kyle was the first song that we played. Colonel Haney called it out, everyone passed it back (by turning your head and calling out the name of the song), and we fish got out our music. Then, we played. It was loud, but it was exciting. I was playing as a part of the Aggie Band. Because I was also trying to survive as a fish, I don't remember a whole lot more than that about my first experience playing with the band.

My four years in the Aggie Band sped by, and I played Noble Men Of Kyle probably hundreds of times during those four years. Before I knew it, I was marching Final Review as a senior. We in the Aggie Band marched and played. After we finished marching, we halted in block formation and faced the reviewing stand that sat on the track on the west side of Kyle Field. We played several songs as the rest of the Corps of Cadets marched by in review. As the last Corps outfit marched by, we played a final song. For my finale in the Aggie Band, we played Noble Men Of Kyle while formed up on Kyle Field.

So, Noble Men Of Kyle was the first and the last song that I played as a member of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie Band. Obviously, that song has tremendous sentimental value to me. I also fondly remember playing it during March-In while marching with the band on the way to Kyle Field from the Quad before football games—that was one of my favorite parts of being a member of the band. What’s more, Colonel Joe T. Haney—the Aggie Band’s world famous director and the director during my fish year in the band—composed the song.

Even today, I still get excited when I hear Noble Men Of Kyle. I like it not only because I like the melody, but also because it inspires me. I remember that I was one of them—the Noble Men Of Kyle. Some of the most trying times of my life occurred during my time in the Aggie Band, but I reflect back and realize that those tough times developed and strengthened me. Even today, twenty years after playing Noble Men Of Kyle on Kyle Field for the last time, I continue to reach back in time and use my experiences as a BQ to give me confidence and to inspire me to reach forward to new heights and horizons.

I learned a lot of lessons in the Aggie Band, and I continue to work on integrating those lessons into my life. I’m glad to say that I was able to be one of the Noble Men Of Kyle—I will always be one of the Noble Men Of Kyle.

*****

GOOD BULL

Lesson Two: Short Hair

I love to wear my hair really short. I guess that I like it that way for several reasons. First, it is easy to fix—a little hair gel and a few swipes of the comb, and it’s ready for the day. It’s easy to wash, too. Only a little shampoo will quickly and thoroughly wash short hair. Short hair is a lot cooler, too. On a hot summer day, I need all the help that I can get to keep myself cool. I like short hair during cold weather, too. Even if it does somewhat protect your scalp from the frigid temperatures, who needs a bunch of hair to make your head itchy? Furthermore, when I jog and my head gets really sweaty, it is so much more comfortable to have short hair than long.

I remember when I received my first haircut in the Corps. It was the second day of FOW (22 August 1988), and our cadre marched us A-Company fish over to the Northgate Barber Shop for the proceedings. There was nothing special or ceremonial about it. I simply sat down in the barber’s chair and quickly received a fish haircut. I remember feeling the razor start at the bottom of my sideburn on the left side of my face and proceed upward, shaving everything in its path. I had never worn my hair long, but it was definitely much longer than the Corps would allow. The standard fish haircut consisted of white walls (completely shaved side and back of the head) and one-quarter to one-half inch in length on the top of the head. And so began my days of short hair.

There were a few things that I quickly noticed about really short hair. For one, every one of us fish looked the same. With us wearing the same uniforms and now with us having identical haircuts, I had a really difficult time telling one fish from another. As I mentioned above, when we received our first haircuts it was only our second day in the Corps, so these were guys that I didn’t know, anyway. Even during normal circumstances, I would have still been struggling to put names with faces. I recall trying to remember certain birthmarks, moles, or scars on the scalps of fellow fish in order to determine who was who.

I also remember being surprised about how many of us had scars or birthmarks that were uncovered by the extreme haircut. And I use the word us because I found out after my haircut that I, too, have a birthmark on the side of my head.

I also recall the funny feeling of laying my head down on my pillow that night after my fish haircut. The shaved scalp kind of stuck to the pillowcase, and every square inch of the bare scalp felt awkward because of being able to feel the fabric directly against it.

So, until now, I have listed things associated with short hair that are either positive or just neutral in the big scheme of things. However, I will admit that there is a bad thing about short hair that I discovered. I learned that one reason that God gave us hair is to keep sweat from running into our eyes. Before college, I had done a lot of outdoor ranch work on hot and sunny West Texas days, so I had done a fair share of sweating before getting my fish cut. With a regular haircut, I had never had a problem with sweat getting into my eyes. With a fish cut, though, that was a problem. While running or during Aggie Band drill, sweat could easily travel through my short hair and run down my forehead into my eyes. That was a very irritating nuisance!

All things considered, though, I still choose to wear my hair short. I am perfectly willing to put up with some sweat in my eyes every now and then. I never knew that 22 August 1988 would make such a lasting change in my life.

*****

CHAPTER TWO—ATTITUDE

Lesson Three: Appreciation

I was jogging around the neighborhood the other day, and I noticed something. I noticed that I was simply looking forward to my next breath. I was appreciative for the basic, yet necessary, breath of air that filled my lungs. I wasn’t longing for a better house. I wasn’t wishing for a fancier car. I wasn’t craving a bigger paycheck. I was simply appreciative for the next time that I got to inhale and refresh my body with clean air so that I could recuperate and continue. My workout had broken me down and stripped me of extraneous concerns. I was satisfied with simply having one of the most basic aspects of life—breathing. Looking back, I can see definite similarities with my experiences in the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M. Especially during my freshman year, the Corps removed any superficial thoughts from my mind and replaced them with an appreciation for the basics of life.

When I decided that I would join the Aggie Band and the Corps of Cadets, I decided that I was not going to be surprised by anything. I had full confidence that none of my experiences in the Corps would physically endanger me, but I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I had heard some crazy stories from various people (mostly ones who didn’t know what they were talking about) about the various requirements for fish in the Corps. Most of those people, as it turned out, had just enough knowledge to be dangerous. It would have been possible for me to take some of those tales and really run with them. However, I decided to remain undaunted. I knew that the Corps would provide me what I needed to survive, and I had confidence that the Corps would not subject me to anything demeaning or degrading. I decided that I would be safe, maybe not comfortable all the time, but under proper supervision. I had faith that I would have access to everything that I truly needed, and that would be enough.

From the very beginning, the Corps did indeed stretch my limitations, and it stripped me of the luxuries to which I had grown accustomed. In so doing, however, I became very appreciative of the basics. No longer could I eat anything at any time that I desired. But I learned to appreciate when and what I got to eat (which was sufficient for me). No longer could I lie down and take a nap any time that I chose. But I learned to appreciate the time that I had available for sleep (which was sufficient for me). No longer could I go to my closet and choose anything that I wanted to wear. But I learned to appreciate the clothes that I had available to wear (which was sufficient for me).

As I accumulated more and more semesters in the Corps, I also earned more and more privileges. Beginning in the Spring semester of our fish year, for example, our upperclassmen gave us fish the privileges of having a stereo in our holes (rooms) and a poster on the back of the door. Suddenly, it felt like we were sitting in the lap of luxury! After living for a semester with only the basics in our rooms, we greatly appreciated having a little bit more than the basics. We, as fish, had learned to be content with meager but sufficient surroundings.

As it turned out, I was correct in thinking that I had nothing to fear in the Corps. I experienced no violence or hazing. I encountered nothing degrading or abusive. I had joined the Corps with an attitude that I wouldn’t be surprised by anything, and my incoming attitude proved to be valuable because I did experience a change in life that I sometimes had difficulty in accepting. However, I can think of one thing for which my incoming no surprises attitude did fail to prepare me. I was not prepared to come away from the Corps with such an appreciation for the basics of life!

Lesson Four: No Excuses

I’ve decided that excuses can be the best thing in the world or the worst thing in the world—depending on your perspective. When something bad has happened, and I need a reason that I shouldn’t be found guilty for the unfortunate situation, a legitimate excuse can taste like a cold Mountain Dew after working sheep and cattle all day under a blistering hot sun (by the way, I love Mountain Dew!). On the other side of the coin, however, when I need for something to be done, and it’s not done, hearing someone else’s excuse can feel like drinking a hot glass of sour milk on a scorching day (I intended that, on the other hand, to induce a negative connotation!).

As a fish, it was my privilege to answer an upperclassman’s question in one of four ways. The acceptable answers were the following: (A) Yes, sir; (B) No, sir; (C) Sir, not being informed to the highest degree of accuracy, I hesitate to articulate for fear that I may deviate from the true course of rectitude. In short, sir, I am a very dumb fish and do not know, sir; or (D) No excuse, sir. To summarize, a fish basically had the privilege of saying Yes, No, I don’t know, or I do not have a good reason for doing or not doing something.

So, upperclassmen expected fish in the Aggie Band to follow orders with no if’s, and’s, or but’s. It was pretty straightforward. Basically, do what you’re told to do and don’t do what you’re told not to do.

At times, that was frustrating as a fish. It would have been easy to find an excuse (or even multiple excuses) for doing something that I wasn’t supposed to do or doing something incorrectly or not at all. However, it wasn’t my fish privilege to have any excuses. Therefore, we fish had to (quoting Larry the Cable Guy) Get’er done. If we didn’t, our failure would result in punishment. Yes, it was frustrating, but it was also somewhat freeing.

Because we were not allowed to have excuses, we had to find a way to accomplish the tasks that the upperclassmen set before us. There was no hem-hawing around or thinking about it. There was also no waiting around to see if we felt like it. There was only time to find a way and to do it. If we didn’t, we didn’t have any excuses on which to fall back.

Was that unrealistic? Of course. There were times when extenuating circumstances prevailed. However, I think that more often than we realized, we really did have no legitimate excuses.

I think it’s the same for me now. There are times when the legitimate busyness or complications of life win out and preempt my responsibilities. However, I think that those times of exception are pretty rare. I believe that it’s reasonable that I should pretty much always expect myself to fulfill my responsibilities, especially if someone else is depending on me. I’ve decided that I need to continue living and answering like a fish—with a hearty No excuse, sir!

I will allow myself one exception to answering like a fish, though—I think that I will simply say I don’t know when I do not know an answer. Frequently, I don’t know the answer to one of my wife’s questions, and she sure gets tired of hearing me say Sir, not being informed to the highest degree of accuracy, I hesitate to articulate for fear that I may deviate from the true course of rectitude. In short, sir, I am a very dumb fish and do not know, sir.

Lesson Five: Determination

Last night, I was flipping the channels on the TV when I saw that one station was showing the movie Rocky II. I am aware that a lot of people think that the Rocky movies are predictable and corny, and I can’t argue against that sentiment. However, I find that they still entertain and motivate me. So, I stopped my channel surfing and watched the rest of the movie. I soon rediscovered what keeps drawing me back again and again.

Rocky