Although I may have graduated as recently as 1995, I have recently discovered that I have moved into the realm of being a "grumpy old grad." Upon my visit to West Point this summer to get married, I learned that a time honored West Point tradition has died.

Now I am not one of those who constantly complains that the "corps has." For instance, I have learned that cadets no longer walk the area. Although this tradition was nearly two centuries old, no one can argue that performing a community service duty, as they do now, does much more for the public good than walking back and forth. Gone are the days when upperclassmen greeted new cadets with a cannon shot of brass buttons. "White tornadoes" no longer exist, and need not be explained for the unindoctrinated. Cadets now have supercomputers in their rooms with digital access to telephones and the internet. This is progress. The corps of cadets is better.

However, they no longer know how to go BIG DICK! Several classmates and I had the opportunity to revisit days gone by and eat in the mess hall during the summer. A very pleasant and polite member of the class of 2000 escorted us during the meal. At one point we realized there was only one steak remaining for the sandwich, at which point we simultaneously declared "BIG DICK" and began the tap our butter knives to the right of our plate and commenced the ceremonial flipping of the knives.

To our amazement, the entire regiment of cadets turned and looked at us with bewilderment as though we were intruders from Naval Academy. I asked our escort why they were looking at us. He replied that they didn’t know what we were doing. When I said we were flipping for food, he remarked that he had heard about that once. I felt as though he were mentioning it as a piece of history as when I recalled old grads recounting the breakfast-table construction of "Sammy-birds" (made of salt shakers, syrups bottles, and napkins) in the 1920’s. I guess I am an "old grad" now. I nearly had to turn up my hearing aid because I couldn’t believe my ears. I wanted to shake my cane at all of them for allowing the tradition to die.

As was the question with all my classmates at the table, I asked, "If you don’t flip, how do you know who gets the extra food?" We all eagerly wanted to know, and I am certain he thought we must still "go big dick" for remaining morsels at home with our wives and families. He shocked us all when he said, "We just ask around and see who wants more, and then we’ll share."

SHARE?! What is that? The greatest triumph in a plebe career is the day when you went BIG DICK and removed the all the desserts from a neighboring table. SHARE? I suppose you should just graciously allow the firsties on your table to re-apportion the remaining barbecued ribs rather than fight for them? What happened? Is this the peacekeeping Army’s answer to uneaten West Point food?

I demand that cadets go BIG DICK!! What if William Tecumseh Sherman had not gone BIG DICK? What if Douglas MacArthur had not gone BIG DICK? Rather than say, "I shall return" did he say, "Please call me when I can return"? Did Norman Schwarzkopf ask Saddam Hussein if we could kick his butt? No, he went BIG DICK!!