Posted by Kelly LaPorte on December 6, 2016:

To Taylor and Regan, he was "Dad"; to Nancy and General and Mrs. Olvey, he was "John"; but to us, he was "J.O." Unlike most of us who had hardly ever been here before we reported for R-Day in July 1982, J.O. had been at West Point for 18 years. And his generous nature of sharing his life with us here made our four years all the more--not just bearable--but enjoyable. His sharing allowed us to see that this place has life beyond the barracks, like when we're marching as New Cadets down to Ike Hall for another scintillating briefing, and J.O. points over there to the Gingerbread House and says, "Hey, I used to live in that house!" Or when we were marching back from Lake Frederick passing the big grey USMA shield sign that marked the road up to Round Pond where he also had lived, and he says, "You see that sign? My brother got his tongue stuck to it after some kid dared him to lick it in the winter while we were waiting for the school bus. . . . Missed the bus because his tongue was still stuck to it when the bus came." But the best place J.O. shared with us over the course of our four years was Quarters 32-A on Thayer Road, where we would escape as Plebes and watch MTV in the basement; tailgate after football games; and for some of us, meet our future wives. And if you went upstairs to the second floor bedroom of 32-A and looked closely at the wooden frame of the window, you would see the round bullet hole that was made when J.O. and his brother were playing with their dad's silver plated .45 and didn't know there was a round in the chamber when they squeezed the trigger. J.O. was such a good looking, athletic stud that when the Academy was commissioning a new statue to commemorate the cadet athlete, they used him as the model. So if you ever saw the larger-than-life statue of the cadet with his grey jacket slung over his shoulder--look closely--that's J.O.! That's pretty cool--here, you have statues of General Washington, General MacArthur, General Patton . . . and our classmate, J.O. And J.O. was someone you wanted to hang with--not only because he was a cool guy--he was a nice guy. I never knew him to utter an unkind word about anyone--ever. And his generosity knew no bounds. When Doug Gurian was killed on 9/11 in the Twin Towers, J.O. was there to do all he could to help Doug's family. Five years ago at our last class reunion, it was so great to see everyone, but there was something missing--it wasn't complete. I walked down the hallway of the Thayer Hotel and texted J.O.: "Wish you were here--you are missed." Little did I know that just two months later we would be having a smaller, somber reunion to bring J.O. back to West Point--this time forever. So 34 years after most of us first met each other and set foot in this hallowed place replete with many landmarks--in addition to the Gingerbread House, the Round Pond sign with a small piece of tongue on it, 32-A Thayer with the bullet hole in the upstairs window, and the cadet statue with the jacket over the shoulder--there's another smaller, more modest marble monument reflecting the fact that a wondrous, generous life can be had at West Point and shared with all. And it reads: "John T. Olvey." It's located a few rows away from his sister Vera, just a few yards away from our I-1 company-mate Mike Endres, and across the cemetery from our H-4 Plebe company-mate John Todd. Only the good die young. Be Thou at Peace.

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