Of Fallen Walls and Paths Not Taken
November 9, 1989, found me in my apartment on the Boston University campus watching the remnants of my teenage career plans go up in clouds of cement dust as the Berlin Wall came tumbling down. I had thought that I’d have a career in the United States Navy as an intelligence officer, followed by an illustrious career as a Foreign Service Officer (FSO) capped off with appointment as the United States Ambassador to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Never let it be said that I dreamed small. The Navy part went by the wayside when my eyesight proved to be so bad that—as I now know—even the broadest waivers wouldn’t allow me to pursue commissioning. At the time, there was a blanket “no waiver” policy thanks to the way that Tom Cruise made the military look glamorous in Top Gun . Ah, well, as the Army chaplain recruiter noted when I said you don’t have to be able to see to pray in a foxhole, you do have to be able to see to get out of one. When the Army says no, the