“A man is only as good as his word.” My father told me this in all seriousness one day when I was trying to back out of a commitment I had made to a neighbor. It was a bit of drudgery that I had agreed to help out with, and since then my classmate had managed to get tickets to something much more enjoyable. I tried explaining to my father that when I agreed to help, I didn’t know the tickets were going to appear. Circumstances had changed. Circumstances were extenuating. And it wasn’t really that important, anyway, I argued. My father stared at me in stony silence, then spoke: “If you cannot be trusted with something unimportant, how can anyone ever trust you with something that is?” I rode my bike to meet my friend and give him the bad news. He’d have to give my ticket to someone else. I fulfilled my promise, but I did so under silent protest. My friends were having fun and I was tired and dirty. Time works a funny kind of magic, though. If I had backed out of my commitment, I would look back on that day with shame. Actually, I hadn’t thought about this moment in a long time. It came back to me unexpectedly, though, when I read a report about, of all things, military courts.