When I was growing up, I got the unique pleasure of living all over the world. My elementary school field trips were to Venice, Italy and other such places. By the time I was 12, I had stood on Juliet's balcony, and visited Rome. These were the perks of being an Air Force Brat...and I was damn proud of it. That was the silver lining to a world that wasn't always easy to live in. The hard parts were far more frequent. My Dad would be gone for months at a time, even a year on two occasions. He'd be off "saving the world" as he put it, and in my mind, that's exactly what he was doing. My dad would miss Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, and countless birthdays. He wasn't there for my Sweet 16, a party i never did get to have. I hated it when he would go, and i thought selfishly of all the things I was missing out on, with no regard to the things he was missing, and how that probably hurt him. I grew up though, and went to high school where i never in my wildest dreams imagined I'd end up graduating and joining the Air Force, but that's just what i did.
Basic Training was and probably always will be one of my greatest achievements. Let people say what they will about AF basic training, it was rough. I'll give it up to the Army and the Marines, they probably have it harder, but basic training sucks regardless what branch of the military you're going into. It was 6 weeks then, and full of things i HAD to learn. Military traditions, and the importance of them. The TRUE meaning of the flag and how to honor and fold it. And then...there was the physical stuff. PT always seemed so stupid to me. Where in the world, in my DESK job, was i going to ever really NEED to be able to run a mile under 12 minutes, really? I figured no where, but I sure learned how to do it. By the time I was done with Basic, i was running the mile under 11 minutes. They work you hard there. Every Sunday, we'd go to church...whether you were religious or not, you went. They played this video there...at the start of every service:
And it's funny because...we all cried. We all related. We all knew, in that few minutes the magnitude of what we'd signed up to do. We realized that we were going to fight. We were going to leave the people we love behind...and some of us, might never come home. That song, every sunday...made it really real for us. And it made us PROUD. We'd start each new week after that with determination and animosity...anger. Everything we NEEDED to get through the day, to become who we needed to become...to finish. And eventually we did.
I didn't stay enlisted, as my obligations to my family became more that I could handle and still be active duty. I tip my hats to those who do it. A vast majority of the friends I made however, DO still serve. They go on the deployments, they are kept away from family, they're fighting for us...and just as they were in Basic Training, they're aware of the sacrifice they're being asked to make...and they'll make it if they have to. THAT'S what Memorial Day is all about. Answering the call of duty. Past, Present, and Future....and doing it with courage, strength and honor. I consider myself privileged to have worked with such amazing people for the years that I served, to have such amazing friends that continue to serve everyday, and such dedicated family, that did what they didn't HAVE to do...they served our country.
To The Heroes That Wear Dog Tags And Combat Boots Rather Than Capes, I Salute You.
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