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In the summer of 1930, an Austin, Texas, family which was desperate
as to how to deal with a nearly fifteen-year-old boy sent him
to a place called then - and for all I know still called - Camp Dixie
for Boys in Wiley, Georgia. From that camp toward the end of its
season - a season mercifully long from my parents' point of view there
went out, for those who wanted it and whose parents would pay
for it, an expedition called the Virginia trip. And so, nearly forty-five
years ago, and only some sixty years after General Lee's death, I was
in this Chapel, feeling all those feelings a Southern boy of those times
must feel in such a spot. Later, I considered coming back here to
college, but instead slid down the path of least resistance into what
we called in Texas "The University." But I must, after all, have had
a rendezvous, for here I am at last, and most pleased and honored to
be here.

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