I enter a New York University building, behind Washington Square Park, and while waiting at the security desk for clearance, I observe a gray haired, nicely suited, late sixties age man. He could be a professor, as he has that air of importance about him. There is a way in which persons project that the space around them is larger than usual; can’t quite put a finger on it. While standing there, I watch him talk to a small grouping of apparent peers and then move to another group of students. Not certain why he caught my eye. Clear security and head for the elevator, and of the two available elevators, he joins the one that I’m getting on. The door no sooner closes than he starts chatting up the young student next to him. I look over and notice that his eye contact is such that he is not looking at you, but expecting you to observe him… which I continue to do out of the corner of my eye. By the 6th floor, the elevator is down to just we two, and I turn to him and say, “Wow, you are either the official greeter here or you are the president of the University’. To which he answer, Yeah, I’m kinda both. So on a roll of oblivion, I ask his name, John Sexton. And guess what… since 2002 until 2016 that is who he is. We exit at the 9th floor together and he asks where I’m going. ‘Would really like the Rest Room’, I reply. ‘There it is’, he says, pointing to the door on the right. A man for all seasons.