Showing posts with label Choices. Show all posts

Well I'm a little conflicted. After I graduated High School, I worked for about a year and decided that if I wasn't going to college I better figure out what I was gonna do.

Enter the Marine Corps. A friend of mine had joined right out of school, and he asked me if I would mind talking to the recruiter. I figured what do I have to lose, so I had them come on over and the recruiter gave me his pitch. It sounded pretty good. I was being told about the reserves and according to the recruiter I would get my schooling paid for, and I could get a loan for a house, and all sorts of other cool stuff after I did my time. Needless to say my parents were pretty against the whole idea. They were aware that we had not had a war in some time, and we were overdue for some sort of conflict. I figured I knew better and at least it was a direction so I signed up for a 6x2 contract (6 years of active some of it reserve and 2 years of inactive reserve).

Boot Camp was 13 weeks long. This was in 1986 and they were just getting away from the whole physical approach to boot camp. In other words, Drill Instructors weren't supposed to hit recruits, but it still happened. I was not even remotely ready for boot camp. They screamed and hollered at us from the time we got off the bus. If I got 4 hours of sleep in any given night it was a blessing. I went to boot camp at 5'10" and 181 lbs. I left boot camp at 5'11" 161 lbs. I was lean, mean and ready to kill anything I was told to kill. They seriously brainwash you while you are in boot camp. Don't get me wrong, it is absolutely necessary. You have to be broken down to be built back up. I went in a confused unruly teen, and came out a lean single minded, focused Marine. I learned skills in a number of different fields (not all of them were related to killing). Close order drills, a great deal of military history, communications. The most important thing I learned in the USMC was how to work as a team. I learned what it means to be a part of something bigger than myself. To be counted on and to count on someone else for my very life.

My reserve time ended up being less than I had expected. I was sent to school immediately after boot camp. My school was a bit on the technical side. I was involved in a form of High Frequency communications. The school was in the middle of the desert and it lasted a total of 13 months. I went from 29 palms to Yuma, AZ. Desert to Desert so it was no big deal acclimating. I spent a short time there and then was sent to North Carolina. Now that was some culture shock. From dry and extremely hot, to humid and moderately hot. By the way I will take the desert and scorpions over that jungle heat and ticks. I left Cherry Point after a fairly brief stay (about 6 months) and ended up in my reserve base in Fresno. I was thinking to myself "OK let the reserve time begin". Unfortunately it was the beginning of Desert Shield, and our unit was activated. So I go shipped right back to Yuma AZ, and then guess where? Yep Cherry Point. It turned out that we were just cycling around the bases and covering for those troops that were already in country.

Six years went by fairly fast and I got out of the military. My parents were happy that I was not shot or stabbed or blown up (although my little brother was hoping I would have a battle scar). I am to this day sure of the fact that this was the reason I grew up. The military gave me direction when I had none.

Fast Forward to now. My 17 year old son has told me that he wishes to speak with the Marine recruiter about possibly joining the military. Now it's my turn to be on the parent end of things. i find that I much prefer when the decision is in my hands. I am scared to death that my child would consider joining the military. I dread the idea of him being shipped off to some foreign land and possibly being injured or killed in the name of freedom.

I say this, and at the same time I am so proud of my son for considering it, that I am almost brought to tears. This is the first time that he has come to me about something that could profoundly impact his life. He has thought about this more than I imagined. He has even given me some of his reasons why he has considered this path. I still have more talking to do with him and the recruiter before he will get my blessing.

As much as I want to tell him that this is the worst thing he can do. I don't want to lie to him. This very well might be the best thing for him, and I feel like I do him a great disservice by misleading him that way. My Mother and Father (and Sister) tell me I should try my best to talk him out of it. I just don't know that I will. I'm going to hear him out and I am going to give him the honest truth about my experience in the USMC.

Being a parent is one of the greatest things to ever happen to me, but I have to say I wish that this was one of those times I didn't have to make the grown up decision...

So this morning my middle son Cameron is complaining to my wife that his leg hurts. It's not that uncommon for somebody to have some sort of ailment prior to school. (somebody always trying to work their way out of going to school.) My wife told him that maybe he was having some growing pains. He agreed that it was possible and went about his morning routine of getting dressed and combing his hair.

Now Cameron is 11 and he is a bit (quite a bit) small for his age. He has been irritated about it at different times in his life. Mostly because my oldest son Andrew is pretty big for his age. Andrew just turned 17 and he is about 6'4" and about 215 lbs. So Cameron has always asked why he can't be as big as his brother. I told him that everybody grows at their own pace, and he should just give it a bit of time and things will be fine. After all I didn't grow much till the summer before my junior year in high school. I left my sophomore year at 5'2" and came back a junior at 5'9".

Fortunately for Cameron his height is one of the few places that he doesn't excel. He is one of the smartest children I have encountered. Now I know that all parents like to dote on their children and what they accomplish, but with Cameron it's just true. He has been reading since he was about 3 1/2. He was already adding and reading in preschool. He won the spelling bee in 2nd grade and now in the 6th grade, he reads at about 11th grade level. He reads the newspaper and likes to argue politics with his father (sometimes quite effectively). He can sing really well, he is a bowler, and generally whatever he decides to try, he does. Unfortunately for him, he has a bit of a temper for a nerd. Kids have teased him from time to time in school, and found out rather quickly that this is one nerd that can and will fight back (did I mention he watches a lot of MMA fighting). So the occasional suspension has been encountered by us in his short tenure at school.

Lately he has encountered a bully at school, and this is one of those times that he has been a little unsure how to handle it. I have always told him to try and handle problems without violence, but I remember school, and how hateful kids can be when they want to. I've told him over and over to try talking first, but sooner or later there will come a time when talking is pointless. Some kids (and adults) don't understand dialogue. When that time comes strike first and strike hard. He knows that I will back him up to the hilt. I'll be in the principals office with the familiar argument. "If your yard monitors would have taken care of it, Cameron wouldn't have had to hit the kid." So this big kid grabbed Cameron and dragged him into the bathroom and punched him in the arm. I asked him what he did about it and he told me that he told the kid to leave him alone, but it wasn't working. Well we have the 3 times rule. Tell them 3 times and then you defend yourself. Well a couple days ago, he reached the end of the 3 times rule.

I go pick my boys up from school that afternoon, and Cameron is acting sorta weird. So I ask him what's wrong? He explained to me that he had more trouble with this kid and this kid had passed the 3 times rule. The problem for Cameron was that this kid was really really big and Cameron didn't know if fighting back would do any good. I explained that he didn't have to beat anybody up, but he has to stand up for himself. Usually with a bully if you face up, he moves on to find easier prey.

So the very next day Cameron had the encounter. I guess that he decided to even things up a bit. So the kid made some comment, and then slugged Cameron again. This time my little boy, faced him kicked him square in the gonads and punched him in the stomach, he then made a point of yelling to the kid that he was tired of his crap and that this is what would happen from now on every time the big kid picked on him. Well I was excited for my boy (as many fathers would be) and asked him what happened. Evidently the kid was sitting down crying, and didn't do anything. I waited for the phone call from the school, telling me that we needed to have a talk about Cameron's attitude or something. Nothing has come and this has been a week now.

So take us back to tonight, with my sons sore leg. I asked him after dinner this evening how his leg was feeling, since he had complained about it a few times over the course of the evening.
He explained to me that it was sore. I figured we would make it through without too much argument since he left it at that. But right before bed he explained to me that he had been thinking, (always makes me a little nervous). He said that he decided that his leg pain was no different than his bully problem and I was lost. So my soon to be 12 year old had to explain to me, that what he meant was they were probably both just growing pains.

So once again, I am sitting here wondering where in the hell this kid came from, cause I would have not thought about it like that as an 11 year old or for that matter as a 20 year old. But it made me feel pretty good to realize that some of those times that I'm trying to make a point to my kid about something that is going on in his life he is actually listening and not watching tv, or listening to that dang Ipod. I might not be a great parent, but I sure do have great kids.