<p><br /><em>Thomas Guynne “Tom” Lowry’s</em> appointment to and eventual graduation from the United States Military Academy was the culmination of his lifelong ambition. As a young boy, Tom’s goal was to join the Long Gray Line. In preparation, he attended and graduated in 1965 from the Greenbrier Military School in Lewisburg, WV.<br />Tom started as the consummate plebe, but one that was not going to take himself or his surroundings too seriously. You could tell that he believed in the place but was going to have a good time and not be consumed by “the Gray Machine.” Tom did his share of whining and moaning, as did we all, but deep down you understood that he really believed in West Point and really wanted to be an officer. Tom was the one that made us laugh, and forget the misery, and carry on, and suffer through that first year. He struggled, as we all did, but he was the one that pushed us: “If I can do it (and he did), then you can do it (and we did).” Lowry was the best friend any one could ask for: loyal, committed, guiding, encouraging. As we progressed through the years, Tom remained the same, someone with a tremendous sense of humor and a tremendous outlook on life. He grew as did the rest of us, and today, 48 years after our graduation and way too many years since Tom was taken from us by diabetes and cancer, his friends still tell Tom Lowry stories. His pranks and escapades were things of legend, with the price of his not being a stranger to spending his free time walking with a rifle. He would never let down his friends, family, or eventually his fellow soldiers. <br />From the start, it was obvious that Tom embodied the concepts of Duty, Honor, Country. His wife tells us that, as a boy, all Tom wanted to do was to go to West Point. It was self evident to all those close to him that West Point (and eventually his wife, Deborah, and his children) was the center of his universe. Tom often got into trouble, especially as a plebe, and some of us ended up walking the area with Tom or suffering the collateral damage from the hazing that was directed his way. But that was easy to bear because we could think about all the fun we had getting into trouble with Tom. And we were always ready to join him in another adventure!<br />As a firstie Tom was a power to be reckoned with; no dare was too great. And due to his leadership skills, we always took the dare (to the chagrin of many of us). But regardless of the outcome, he never let us down and was the first to admit it was his idea, his challenge. We were his “troops,” and he took responsibility.<br />While he enjoyed playing tennis, Tom’s nemesis at West Point was the Physical Education Department. The reason for his struggles passing PT became obvious shortly after graduation. His dreams were dashed in 1970 after a diagnosis of type 1 (insulin dependent) diabetes. Medically retired as second lieutenant on April 6, 1970, Tom had served 10 months and three days. He never recovered from the disappointment of not being able to be a career Army officer.<br />Tom went on to make a career in the banking industry, retiring as a senior vice president in 1987. And he continued to keep tabs with his alma mater through the West Point Society in Charlotte, where he was the treasurer. Life became even more complicated for him, however, when he was struck with basal cell carcinoma of the tongue, jaw, and lower palate.<br />According to his wife, Deborah, West Point was Tom’s true love, and his happiest days were spent there. The Long Gray Line movie was “required viewing” in the Lowry home every time it was televised.<br />Tom succumbed to the effects of diabetes on October 25, 2001 at age 54. We lost a good friend. His ashes, appropriately, are inurned in the Columbarium in the Old Cadet Chapel; forever at West Point, the place he loved so dearly.<br />May it be said, “Well Done; Be Thou at Peace.”<br /><em>— Thomas Reinhardt ’69, classmate</em></p>