This article was in the Houston Chronicle about Muster, just thought i'd share it with y'all
http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/ssistory...atures/2524510
Brother's death shows UT grad meaning of Muster
By JASON SPENCER
Copyright 2004 Houston Chronicle
There aren't many pictures of my brother and me where I don't have one hand draped over his shoulder and the other flashing a Hook 'em Horns sign at the camera.
Cliff hated that. "You're messing up a perfectly good picture," he'd say.
He took plenty revenge, though. My phone used to ring when things started going bad in University of Texas football games. I'd answer because it was better than enduring Cliff's uninterrupted taunts on the answering machine.
"Pooooooooor Longhorns," he'd say.
Those calls used to burn me up.
That banter, I know, goes on all the time in families and friendships with allegiances split between graduates and fans of the University of Texas and Texas A&M University.
Aggies love deflating Longhorns' puffed up egos. The Aggies' cultlike dedication to school traditions (they practice yelling at midnight, for goodness sake) provides ample joke fodder for the UT faithful.
But on Wednesday night, the Aggies welcomed me -- a 1996 UT graduate -- into their most sacred tradition: Muster. Every San Jacinto Day, thousands of Texas A&M graduates gather for a roll call of Aggies who died in the past year.
Muster's roots stretch back to June 26, 1883, when Aggies gathered to talk about old times. By 1902, the annual gathering evolved into a celebration of Texas' Independence on San Jacinto Day. The two were officially linked in 1922.
Today, Aggies Muster in more than 400 VFW halls, courthouse lawns, banquet rooms and other locations around the world.
We were one of more than 100 families at the Hornberger Conference Center to remember lost loved ones from Harris County. Others were there to remember grandfathers, mothers, friends and three soldiers killed in Iraq.
When they read Cliff's name, I stood, lit my candle and answered, "Here."
My mom, Peggy Krause, and Cliff's widow, Shanda Spencer, did the same thing at the Muster in the Hill Country town ofLlano. That's where Cliff and Shanda attended Muster most years.
My dad, Rusty Spencer, and my 13-year-old sister, Taylor, answered for Cliff at the ceremony on the Texas A&M campus.
It's been four months since my brother's death. He was riding in the back seat of a pickup during a hog hunt in Jefferson County with two Aggie buddies. The driver lost control and crashed. Cliff died quickly. The other two walked away from the wreck.
Cliff -- a 1999 A&M graduate and member of the Class of 1998 -- was 27. He left behind a wife and two sons. Ty is 19 months old. Tate was born a month ago.
Before Wednesday, I never really got the whole Aggie tradition thing. Now, I understand a little better. While we Longhorns pride ourselves on individuality, Aggies are all about unity and loyalty. When an Aggie falls, the family comes together to remember. You see it at Muster and in the legend of the 12th Man.
Gov. Rick Perry, a former student, explained it to the families this way: "We share in your grief and your sorrow. And we also share in your joy," he said. "Their spirit still lives in the Aggie spirit that abounds in each of us."
When Cliff's boys are a little older, I'll explain the rivalry to them.
I'll tell them that for all the pretense of hatred, the rivalry was sometimes the one thing that kept their father and me close. I'm a journalist. Cliff was a biology teacher and football coach at Westfield High School in Spring. The rivalry was something we had in common; an excuse to call or send an e-mail.
I'll tell Ty and Tate about the time Cliff visited me at UT while he was choosing a university. We were sitting in philosophy class when a long-haired classmate rested his bare feet on a chairback a few inches from my brother's head. Cliff enrolled at A&M shortly thereafter.
I'll tell them about the annual bet their dad and I had riding on the outcome of each UT-A&M football game: The loser had to field dress the winner's deer at the next hunt. They'll hear the story of our last hunt, when my rifle failed to fire as I aimed at a small spike. Cliff laughed and handed his rifle to me. I'll show his sons pictures of their dad smiling and working on the deer I downed with his gun.
His kindness aside, it was tradition, after all.
"Even some graduates of t.u. love what Texas A&M stands for," Perry said.
Here.
Kitso
KS 361
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