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Criteria of Excellency优秀的标准My l4-year-old son, John, and I spotted the coat simultaneously.It was hanging on a rack at a secondhand clothing storein Northampton Mass,crammed in with shoddy trench coats and an assortment of sad,woolen overcoats—a rose among thorns.While the other coats drooped,this one looked as if it were holding itself up.The thick, black wool of the double-breasted chesterfieldwas soft and unworn, as though it had been preservedin mothballs for years in dead old Uncle Henrys steamer trunk.The coat had a black velvet collar, beautiful tailoring,a Fifth Avenue label and an unbelievable price of $28.We looked at each other, saying nothing,but Johns eyes gleamed. Dark, woolen topcoats were popularjust then with teenage boys,but could cost several hundred dollars new.This coat was even better,bearing that touch of classic elegance from a bygone era.John slid his arms down into the heavy satin lining of the sleevesand buttoned the coat. He turned from side to side,eyeing himself in the mirror with a serious,studied expression that soon changed into a smile.The fit was perfect.John wore the coat to school the next dayand came home wearing a big grin.“Did the kids like your coat?” I asked.“They loved it.” he said, carefully folding itover the back of a chair and smoothing it flat.I started calling him “Lord Chesterfield” and “The Great Gatsby.”Over the next few weeks, a change came over John.Agreement replaced contrariness, quiet,reasoned discussion replaced argument.He became more judicious, more mannerly,more thoughtful, eager to please.“Good dinner, Mom.” he would say every evening.He would generously loan his younger brother his tapesand lecture him on the niceties of behavior;without a word of objection,he would carry in wood for the stove.One day when I suggestedthat he might start on homework before dinner,John—a veteran procrastinator—said,“Youre right. I guess I will.”When I mentioned this incident too