When I first heard about St. John’s from a student at Middlebury College, I was a bit skeptical. After all, how could a school I’d never heard of be any good? But what the student said was compelling: he kept a St. John’s application in his desk just in case he became disillusioned.

I was on the road at the time, taking a two-month Greyhound bus trip to figure out what to do next after my misfit year at another college. In high school, I thought my future involved being an artist, so I had spent a year at art school, where I discovered that I was grappling with too many questions to focus on drawing. Chance brought be back to my old school where I ran into the school chaplain. His words still echo: Go to St. John’s. That’s where they discuss philosophy at the dinner table, not the salad.

I found myself on the next bus to Annapolis, where, after sitting in on a Euclid class, I could imagine no other place to be. I returned home, worked day and night on my application, and joined the class of 79 as a Febbie.

Those four years were among the richest of my life. Of course, the moments of fun, forging friendships and engaging in college activities, were joyous and rich. But even when joy seemed absent, when pain overcame me as I struggled through not only regular college life but the meaning of life, the richness I felt was palpable. The books we read and discussed in class, hallways, and the coffee shop enthralled us with their pertinence to our lives, and continue to resonate to this day. Even now, as I continue to stumble through life, I recall the words of Plato or the Bible or Nietzsche.

More than three decades later, I attribute almost everything I have achieved professionally to St. John’s. No, St. John’s didnt teach me any particular profession—it simply taught me that I could learn and do anything I wanted to. It took the fear out of figuring out how to do things. I developed a passion for food, so naturally, I wrote cookbooks. I opened a restaurant and several businesses, including the one I have now. I didn’t go to business school, but that never stopped me. After all, if you can get through Kant, you can get through just about anything.

My youngest daughter is now a sophomore in Santa Fe. When I hear about her experiences there, I am reminded of the powerful impact St. John’s can have on the life a young person. It still makes thinkers out of kids. It challenges them and shakes them and makes them question themselves and everything around them. And with that, as its Latin logo says, it makes free men (and women) with books and a balance.

And that’s why I give.