Probably the biggest reason that I was going the military route was that I just wanted to do something I had never done before. Was I supposed to go through this life just repeating what I had done before? Or could I do better? It wasn't about the money, either. I had already proved to myself that my knowledge of future events could pay off for me. I wouldn't be poor, and would probably be much richer. Still the idea of just watching the money roll in was too sterile. Yes, I could do it, but couldn't I do more?
So I pushed myself to do things that I had never done before, things that I could say I had earned on my own, and not because I knew about the future. I did aikido and worked out. I was going to get a doctorate. Now I was going to try the Army. I wanted to be challenged. Before, in my first life, I had always wanted jobs where there was a challenge and a payoff, sales for instance, or something that would let me stand out.
I had solidified my acceptance with a school visit to RPI over the summer. One of the things I remembered dramatically from the summer of '72 were the school visits I made that summer. The first visit I was to make was to the University of Rochester (accepted) and then Syracuse University (not impressed.) Both were to be done the weekend of June 23-25, which just happened to be the same days that Hurricane Agnes came ashore and ran straight up the Chesapeake Bay, ripped north up the Susquehanna River valley, and died in western New York. Dad insisted we all drive up, and it took us eight hours to go north about 60 miles, give up, and turn around.
Now, to a Marylander, hurricanes are more of a nuisance than anything else. We don't get all that many, being north of the expected tracks for the average hurricane. Further, the real damage from a hurricane will come from two sources. The high winds can throw a lot of debris around, and the storm surge can flood things. Still, unless you live near the water's edge or in low lying areas, the water won't get you, and as for debris, a sturdy house protects you and you stay away from the windows. Generally, unless it's a Category 4 or 5, you just wait it out. I remember when my parents retired, they took a trip out to Arizona, just in time for a very freaky Pacific hurricane that ran up the Gulf of California. The locals were going crazy, but my folks were just going, "So what?"
I didn't remember the specific dates of Hurricane Agnes, but I did know the normal hurricane season runs from June through November, and the hurricanes are named alphabetically, so Agnes would have been in the beginning of the season. I made my visit at the end of July, about a month after Agnes blew through.
The visit was interesting. Troy is about 350 miles north of Baltimore, so I was going to drive up on Friday, do my interview Saturday morning, and then drive back in the late afternoon. Normally there are two routes, a coastal route and an inland route. The coastal route takes I-95 up to New York, and then the New York Thruway up to Albany. The inland route takes you up the Harrisburg Expressway, I-83, to Harrisburg, and then I-81 up to Binghamton. From there you take I-88 up to Albany. From Albany you take I-787 to Troy. The only problem was that in the early Seventies, most of I-88 was still under construction, leaving partial rides on Route 7. I took the coastal route.
I stayed in a noname motel in Watervliet Friday night. In the future, especially after 9/11, you couldn't do that without credit cards, but I simply paid cash and nobody cared. The next morning, dressed in a blue blazer and pressed khakis, I showed up at RPI and parked near the Student Union. Inside the Admissions office I was first met by a student who gave me a fascinating tour, although it was fascinating as much for what the young man got wrong as what he got right. He was a sophomore and probably had learned where the bathrooms were just the previous week. I had forgotten more about the school than this kid had learned.
After a delicious lunch in the freshman dining hall, with food of a quality only seen during parent visits, I met with an assistant to an assistant for the interview. The biggest issue the interviewer had was where my parents were. My response, that 'I was pretty independent.', didn't quite penetrate. He kept asking about how they were going to find out about financial aid, and what if they had questions about the school. He finally passed me along to another person higher up the food chain who was much more at ease with me and actually took the time to review my transcripts and SAT scores. He was most impressed with the two papers I had my name on, and quizzed me closely about them.
A lot of colleges proclaim they want a varied and well balanced student body. They really stress they want students who have diverse interests. Rensselaer had a slightly different perspective. They wanted really smart nerds. Diverse interests were limited to making sure they met the various minimum quotas of minorities the federal government was looking for. When my second interviewer asked about my hobbies, I pulled out my wallet and showed him a picture of Jeana in a short sundress and high heeled sandals. He just grinned and said he had had similar hobbies when he was in high school.
Now, with my acceptance to RPI in the bag, I just needed to apply to the Army by the end of the year. My grades would be more than sufficient, and I was sure I could pass any background check. I just needed four letters of reference. I asked Pastor Joe (himself an Air Force vet), Mr. Steiner (a Marine on Guadalcanal), Mrs. Rogers, my math tutor, and Professor Milhaus, the chemistry professor who had helped during the Science Fair. All agreed to write me letters of recommendation, although Mrs. Rogers and Professor Milhaus thought I was throwing away my talents. It was easy enough to ask, since these were the same people I got to write my letters of reference for admission to RPI. I would need to have an interview with an officer after they got my formal application and letters, and enough of a background check to make it worth their while to take me.
Summer break had been enjoyable. I took three classes at Towson State, all in the social sciences field. RPI had an unusual requirement, in that while you had to take eight humanities or social sciences, one a semester, they didn't care what they were. There weren't even requirements to take any English courses. This didn't become an issue until I went back to school in the '90s and was required to take two semesters of English Composition and Literature. The teacher was an adjunct who taught eighth grade English at a local school and I had been published back when she still playing with her Barbie dolls. I already had a master's degree by that time, but they wanted me to take English (gym, too, but I got out of that.) It was ridiculous.
Since school was out, I had to pay for the summer classes out of my pocket, but that was it. This was in the time before college costs began rising faster than medical costs. It was just a few hundred dollars for the three courses, Intro to Psychology, Intro to Sociology, and Western Civilization I (intro to history.) RPI had a dismal humanities and social sciences curriculum, as could be expected from a college of nerds. Towson State was much better in the liberal arts.
That, however, was the tough part of summer, and it wasn't all that tough. The easy part was spending a lot of time with Jeana. Sometimes we were in her basement, sometimes I would pick her up and bring her back to the apartment, and sometimes we would ride our bikes up around Loch Raven to see the submarine races. We never saw too many submarines, but Jeana sure saw an awful lot of my periscope that summer. We worked on our all over tans too, which was a lot of fun, especially when it came time to rub on the sunscreen. Even if we weren't working on the all over tan, Jeana in a bikini was an awe inspiring sight, even a religious experience. At least the phrases that came to mind were certainly religious - "Oh my God!" and "Sweet Jesus!" were just two of many.