Peter Bradford Storey – 50th Reunion Essay

Peter Bradford Storey

155 Lake View Drive North

Macon, GA 31210-8642

storeymacon@aol.com

478-737-7970

Spouse(s): Carol G. Moore (1991)

Child(ren): William Storey (1993); Christian Storey(1998)

Education: Yale College, BA, 1969; W. New England Univ. Law, JD, 1976; Georgetown Univ. Law, LL.M, ‘80

National Service: NCO, US Army, 1969–1972

Career: Member, Board of Veterans Appeals (DVA), 6 yrs., Federal ALJ (SSA), 23 yrs., private practice 4 yrs.

Avocations: Literacy; diversity of thought on campus; forensic psychiatry; martial arts

College: Davenport

My closest friends remain the men who were my roommates at Yale. These friendships are irreplaceable. My three years as a member of St. Anthony Hall generated many other grand relationships with future writers, diplomats, artists, and scientists. These days, when I interview local applicants for undergraduate admission to Yale, I tell them that, 50 years down the road from my graduation in 1969, I retain vivid memories of all that was Yale: the intellectual feast that Yale extended to all students; the physical beauty of the campus, notably the Branford courtyard in the spring; and keeping company with classmates who were the smartest, funniest, and most visionary individuals I have ever encountered.

I remember, however, the shock of watching film of the Tet Offensive in Vietnam in January 1968. Facing military conscription into this ill-conceived war upon graduation suddenly became real to me. There were other events in 1968 that soured the shortest, gladdest years: the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy and the attempted suicide of a roommate who was gay. His fear of coming out was so intense that he nearly succeeded in sacrificing his identity in death. That terrible moment relieved me of an ignorance that unfortunately was common at the time. My other deep regret is that Yale did not begin to admit women as undergraduates until the fall semester following our graduation.

Because I had drawn a low number in the draft lottery and knew that my local board would not defer for medical school, law school, or Peace Corps, I chose a three-year enlistment in the army in which 10 months of foreign language training at the Defense Language Institute—but nothing further—was guaranteed. I chose German, which had been my major at Yale. That choice probably saved my life during wartime, because my then-relative fluency in German got me assigned to the Berlin Brigade as a bilingual customs and criminal investigator. On my first day in Berlin I witnessed the autopsy of a murdered US soldier. This was my first direct experience with violent death, and in an instant I weaned myself from the contemplative life at Yale.

I graduated from law school and moved to Washington, DC, in 1976. I discovered that I was a much happier judge than lawyer when I was appointed a Veterans Law Judge by President Reagan in 1984. In 1990 I became a federal administrative law judge, dealing mostly with forensic medical issues. My wife, Carol, also now a judge, is clearly the better lawyer in our high-maintenance family of four. We adopted two boys as infants when we were living in Maine and maintain open relationships with the birthmothers. This journey as husband and father has given the greatest meaning to my life. At 71, I have what I want and am happy to say it.

Classmates, I thank you for your companionship at Yale and beyond. Godspeed and safe journey.