A couple weeks ago on April 21st, San Jacinto Day, Aggies all over the world celebrated Aggie Muster. Muster is widely considered the crowning tradition of A&M, and it is one that I personally hold close to my heart.

 

On Muster Day, Aggies gather together to “eat a little, and live over [their] days at the A&M College of Texas.” It’s a gathering of friends, a gathering of a large family, to celebrate our common bond. It is also a day of mourning, because in many gatherings—though certainly not all—and most significantly at the largest gathering at Texas A&M itself we hold a Roll Call for the Absent. We call the names of the Aggies in our community who have passed away in the last year, and answer “Here!” in their place.

 

Muster is our most solemn tradition, followed closely by Silver Taps: a monthly gathering, if need be, in which students gather silently on Academic plaza, campus lights extinguished, to observe a 21-gun salute and the playing of Silver Taps* in honor of any student who dies in the previous month.

 

During my four years at A&M, I participated in Muster as a member of the Texas A&M Singing Cadets. We always sing particular songs at Muster. The Women’s Chorus and the Century Singers always join us at the start. The WC sing their arrangement of

, and the CS sing a choral setting of the poem . The SC have changed what we sing a couple times. We all sing Amazing Grace. As the ceremony goes forward, the SC also sing the songs 12th Man, Aggie Muster Day, and **. There are a couple other things we do, but the list isn’t really that important I guess.

 

The thing is, I’ve never actually been at Muster beyond being part of the ceremony. Heck, I never went to a football game without being part of the medical staff. Depending on various schedule type things, I may not get to attend a Muster outside an official capacity ‘til at least 2018. I feel like I should remedy that.

 

We hold Muster so highly because Aggies don’t view each other as merely students who happened to go to the same University. We are part of a big, extended family. At Muster, I never once knew a name that was called. But, as tradition dictates, I answered “Here!” for every person whose class year was the same as my own. And I didn’t do it out of deference to tradition. The families of those who had died were there. I wanted them to know that we—the classmates of their children, brothers, sisters, husbands, and wives—were there to support them and share in their pain.

 

But I want to attend as not-a-Singing-Cadet.

 

By the time I finally do get to attend, very few if any of my classmates’ names will be called. But I want to experience Muster as a normal person anyway.

 

I have these personal rules. When I’m doing something in an official capacity, my rule is to keep as much of my personal self out of it. Mainly this involves how I react to things I may have certain feelings about. When I am doing my job as a Medic who you are, what you’ve done, and what you’re doing doesn’t matter. Are you injured? I will bandage you. Are you sick? I will help you feel better. Are you panicking? I will put your hand on my shoulder and guide your breathing, and listen to you as you talk things out. When I am a Singing Cadet, I am a representative of Texas A&M University, an honorary ambassador of the State of Texas***, as a part of the choir I have even stood as a representative—to some degree—of the United States. As a Singing Cadet, and as a Medic, I do my best to not react like Zox Tomana, because Zox Tomana is temperamental. Zox Tomana is socially anxious. Zox Tomana wants to cry when he hears the words “Softly call the Muster, // Let comrade answer, ‘Here!’ // Their spirits hover ‘round us: // As if to bring us cheer. // Mark them ‘Present’ in our hearts, // We’ll meet some other day. // There is no Death, but Life Eterne // For heroes such as they!”

 

But on that stage I am not Zox Tomana. I am Mr. Tomana, and Old Man in the Singing Cadets. When I put on that uniform, or swing that stethoscope around my neck, I take on a role that demands responsibilities that my temper and anxiety simply fail to allow for.

 

And that’s why I want to go to Muster as a normal person, as just plain old Zox Tomana, so I can experience it without it being a matter of responsibility.

 

 

*

, is an arrangement of Taps performed by select members of the Corps of Cadets. It is played three times, once to the North, once to the West, once to the South, but never to the East, for the Sun will never rise on those fallen Aggies again. It is also played at Muster, at the end of the Roll Call, after a 21-gun salute.

 

**Talking about how important this song became is a whole other ramble in itself.

 

***Not even kidding: the Singing Cadets were designated as “Official Ambassadors of Goodwill” of the State of Texas back in 1974 by then-Governor Dolph Briscoe. I don’t know if that sort of thing is still an official thing, but it is something we still take seriously and, in the spirit of the thing if not the official-ness of the thing, carry on.