Dennis Blair Lewis

West Point, 1965

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Dennis Lewis Jr on September 29, 2009:

As the son of a West Point graduate, I was often asked why I didn't go to West Point. I immediately replied, "Because I never heard any good stories about it." Of course I'm referring to Beast Barracks, the plebe harassment, special shower formation, and so on. But it didn't occur to me until much later that I was focused on the wrong stories. The right stories were about the lifelong friendships. About guys who would drop whatever they were doing to celebrate the good times with friends or help each other during the bad. About guys who willingly risked their lives for each other. The ability of this place, of gray walls, gray uniforms and gray skies as my dad put it, to turn strangers into brothers, is amazing. This place called West Point is truly built on love. Love of country, love of duty, and love for your brother. During the services at home last week, people were commenting that his obituary was one of the best they'd ever read. Initially, I was flattered because Eileen, Amy, Carter and I put considerable effort into it. Then it occurred to me--we didn't write it--my dad did. He was the one who lived and did all those things. We just put them on paper. My dad was a man who thought and lived large. He had intense focus on everything. Whether you were the subject or the beneficiary of that focus determined how you felt about it. I learned early as a child that honesty was the best policy--you couldn't BS my dad, no matter how hard you tried. Even in business, if he had a tenant that was struggling to pay rent, if the tenant was honest and asked for help, it was always given. But heaven help you if he thought you weren't being straight with him or were dodging his phone calls. My dad really had his priorities straight. I asked him once why he didn't go into a profession, like medicine or law. He said that he never wanted a job where he had to show up everyday to get paid. For my dad, that would have been too limiting. He would not have been able to attend school plays, drive 20 hours to watch a 6-minute crew race, spend long weekends at my sister's, inviting himself to play golf at Stichweh's or Parcells' clubs, jet off to California to visit Seymour and Kuhn and mix in a little business while there, or take the time to care for Vogel. He set the best example for living with a noble purpose. I serve on a couple community and non-profit boards. I wondered why my dad never had. Although I never had the chance to ask him, I think it was because he preferred to help the people in his life directly and generously gave of his time and money. As my sister commented to me a few months ago, my dad's life has been one marked by huge events: Captain of his high school championship football team; an appointment to West Point; the untimely and tragic death of his mother; marrying my mom, his high school sweetheart; Ranger school; going to war in Vietnam; starting a business; surviving a sudden-death 15 years ago, and being listed for a heart transplant. My uncle Carter said it perfectly: we are grateful for the last 15 years, and sad for the next 15 years that we didn't get to spend with him. It is a testament to his strength that he never let his heart condition affect his daily life. He viewed the medications and doctor visits as more of a nuisance and inconvenience to his schedule than any kind of a disability. A couple of years ago, Cammie Lewis, the brother from S. Carolina, forwarded Tim Vogel's personal effects to our office I helped my dad go through them. We came across the flight logbook of Tim's dad who was shot down and killed during the Korean War. Right after his dad's last entry, 8-yr old Timmy wrote, "I will pick up where my daddy left off." I now know exactly how Timmy felt--both proud and sad. So rest easy Dad--we've got it from here--you've trained us well. Dennis Lewis Jr. Old Cadet Chapel West Point 9 Sep 09

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