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Friday MusingsThis weekend. I will catch up with emails this weekend. I promise. – Class today – it was Friday, wasn’t it? – and the course was Operations Analysis/Research, OR. Which as I might have mentioned is a kind of cult at the Naval Postgraduate School. Reminds me of all those L. Ron Hubbard books. People believe. They want you to believe. None moreso than my current professor, whom I regret to add, is battling stage 4 cancer. Which I looked up, only to find that there isn’t any stage 5. So it’s the real deal. With chemo and painkilling drugs and the occasional stab that causes him to wince and moan aloud in class, when it isn’t dropping him off to sleep. Each week we are happily surprised to see him at the other end of the video-teleconference. In his shoes I think I might cash in all my chips and stroll the beach, but he’s not that kind of guy. He loves to teach – it is no stretch at this point to say that he literally “lives” for it – and we might very well be the last class he ever And it’s not like that stuff is easy. But neither is it like having stage 4 cancer, which puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? – I was surfing somewhere last week, or maybe the week prior and ran across one of those threads wherein the tech cognoscenti write in disparaging tones about, well: Pretty much everything. One of them was writing about his MP3 player, which, he hastened to add, was NOT an iPod. Because in that particular stratum apparently, having an iPod is an admission that you just don’t get it. Or something. Because of the teraflops per dollar, or summat. Or maybe it’s the whole, “sucked into the Man’s closed-source music retailing scheme through the horrible convenience, elegance and inexpensive access that’s in it. Apart from the new shuffle – which I seek in vain for reasons to buy – I have bought, was gifted or currently own every kind of iPod ever manufactured. I think they’re OK. – The administration’s row-back from previous and vigorously enunciated of claims to Constitutional privilege on the NSA surveillance program is a bit of a disappointment to those of us who thought it was a good idea for a wartime president not to yield his official prerogatives as an elected official to unelected and unaccoutable jurists. But perhaps, like the ingratious exit of the former Secretary of Defense, this was thought to be a kind of wisdom, a pragmatic accomodation to the New Reality. Not every fight is winnable, and not every fight you win is worth the cost incurred in fighting it. The smart political brawler chooses his battles wisely. Which is why I think this concession – such as it is, the details are an enigma enshrouded in a mystery – is a mistake. I for one, wouldn’t have minded watching Al Gonzales take questions from folks in Congress who think that al Qaeda conversations are legally protected from military surveillance in a time of open conflict. That might have been fun. After all, there’s a world of legal distinction between intel gathered in pursuit of criminal prosecution, and that gathered against belligerents during wartime. The latter are unprotected, yea, even unto death. In other news, the administration – wisely in my view – has elected to acknowledge the Way the World Now Is by taking Iraq war costs off the supplemental table, and treating them instead as embedded DoD costs in the President’s budget submission. Senior members of Congress – who have recently been making noise about grilling DoD officials over the supplementals as a way of attacking the President’s policy in Iraq – have long complained that the war costs have been too long treated as “emergency” legislation, since this tends to hide their effect from inclusion in deficit calculations. Prolly they’re happier now. And, three times more Democrats than Republicans hope that the President’s new plan for stabilizing Iraq fails. As do words, at this point. – Today was graduation day at MCRD, and I happened to be over there to get some gas and shop for the odd sundry or two. Ruffles and flourishes I heard in the distance, and soon there was a commotion in the middle distance. First came the DI’s not participating directly in the ceremonies, strapping young men with hard eyes and brass voices, wearing their signature Smokey the Bear covers. Not much after came the new Marines themselves, but freshly recruits and now part of the brotherhood. I was struck by several things. They are painfully young of course, mere boys in man suits. They have been whittled down by their recent experiences into their essential selves – nothing else beside remains but whipcord muscles and right angles, there was not one solitary ounce of fat. Tall and lean and hard, by God. Marines. I noticed something else, as well: They had families there with them, proud mothers and fathers, sisters in dresses, brothers looking up as though in awe at the young man they had spent a lifetime with grown into something new and suddenly unfamiliar. This is not so odd, you say, we all of us have families. True. But some of these family members were brown, and some were black and some were yellow – they were as diverse as we ourselves are. But not their young men, not anymore. There were no African Americans or Hispanics or Asians in that crowd of green-clad graduates. There were only Marines. Maybe you had to see it, but it was striking. As was the image I saw of an aging, pony-tailed father buying odds and ends for his newly graduated Marine son up in the exchange. He shopped as though making up for lost time, as though warding away the future with his purchases: A combat knife, some socks, a digital cammy clothing bag. Did he need anything else? the old man asked his son – a young man who was at once both proud and slightly embarrassed. No, Dad. That’ll be fine. The old man nodded, thoughtfully. As did I myself. What can we possibly buy for these young men now, after all that we have asked of them, after all that we will ask of them? What can we purchase for them that will repay in any measure what they have offered up for us? Not much. I suppose you do what you can. – Have a good weekend. 19 comments to Friday Musings |
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Copyright © 2009 Neptunus Lex - All Rights Reserved |
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Lex, there’s only one thing we need to give these young Marines: our faith in them, 100% pure faith. The Corps gives them everything else they need.
Aye, if one ever has the chance to attend a MCRD graduation, it is a most inspiring experience. Even if you know none of the new Marines, or their families. You WILL share their pride, patriotism, dedication, and solemn realization that these great young men, and women, are the Americans willingly putting their lives on the line to defend our freedom. I salute them all, and thank them. And their families. May God bless and protect them all. And, indeed all our Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Coast Guardsmen.
“And, three times more Democrats than Republicans hope that the President?
Once a Marine always a Marine: but I do make an exception for congressman from Pennsylvania, that Murtha clown.
RLTW
I think the President had to backtrack on the eavesdropping-its was going to jammed down his throat anyway by either the courts or the Congress. Plus the attorney general made a very poor defense of himself and the concept in front of Congress. I think Bush took a look at the board and decided it was time to resign the game. Esepcially given the swelling revolt within Republican ranks.
Having been an actual participant in one of those MCRD graduations (on the Right Coast rather than the Hollywood variety, tho..hehehee!), I can say without a doubt that it’s a very proud, very happy moment for those young Marines. And knowing that family and friends are watching makes it just that much better. The only other time in my life I felt the same way was when my wife pinned my anchors on me, and even then I think a had a little flashback to the Parris Island parade ground! And Byron is absolutely right, all they need from us is our faith in them, and they sure have mine.
I have found myself waiting for a flight home in the concourse of beautiful Lindburgh Airport on the occasional Friday afternoon. Invariably there is at least one very freshly minted Marine in a stiff uniform also waiting for a flight home. “Home” for him typically being at least a three hour drive from where his last connecting flight lands. I figure the least I can do is talk with him, complement him on a difficult and meaningful achievement, thank him, and provide free comestibles.
In all my times there, I never did see a Marine graduate purchase his own beer or dinner, and I was not from the only one opening my wallet. A beer and a burger ain’t much, but I figure something has gotta be better than nothing.
And every single time I am in my home airport (ATL) and any uniformed service member comes through the arrival area, I hear applause. Don’t matter where they are coming from or going to. We thank them all. Makes me proud to live here.
Wow, what a description. I can’t begin to think of what it would take to repay these brave young men and women. There’s certainly no amount of money that could ever repay them.
Jim C
“…He shopped as though making up for lost time,…”
My how you do turn a phrase, Cap’n.
Lex,
You described many a friday I too spent at that very same local. Well struck, Sir, you put me right back there again. I was always awe-struck every time I entered the confines of MCRD… the men at guard always knew your rank on sight, (something the other services occasionally lacked). The Marines are courteous, professional, the best of the best. I too remember the families, all so very proud. It made me proud to be in their presence. Thanks for the memory…
Captain:
Thanks for the evocative piece on MCRD San Diego.
Keep punching.
[...] Lex: Today was graduation day at MCRD, and I happened to be over there to get some gas and shop for the odd sundry or two. Ruffles and flourishes I heard in the distance, and soon there was a commotion in the middle distance. First came the DI?
The sight of a newly-minted Marine, accompanied by proud parents, Mom wearing her “Marine Mom” shirt, or the Dad wearing a scarlet and gold cover attesting to his time in the Corps is a familiar one to folks privilaged to live or visit Sandy Eggo. The pride and appreciation so well described by previous posts to this site, are extended wherever these folks travel throughout the region.
Semper Fi and God Speed to all who serve.
As a social experiment, I would be interested to see their reception, should they walk through the editorial offices of the Washington Post or Los Angeles Times.
This past fall I had the privilege of being invited to attend the MCRD graduation for a friend’s nephew. Turned out it was 17 yrs to the day from when I myself marched across the “grinder” and was ushered into the hallowed halls of those who call themselves Marines. A bittersweet moment, if you will. Bitter, because I have since left the Corps (not that you actually “leave,” mind you) for to pursue another career as a chaplain – in the Army, fer cryin’ out loud. Sweet, because there’s nothing like going back to the depot as a field grade for to see all the snapping and popping that comes your way. I thought my saluting arm would give out before I made it back to the car.
But to see all those young men, once individuals, now welded into a tightly disciplined UNIT – now that is a sight to behold. Gives one goosebumps, to say the least.
Caftsman – Last few times I’ve flown anywhere I’ve told the person working the check-in counter at the gate to up-grade to 1st class anyone on the airplane flying in uniform on my tab.I stay anonymous and just enjoy my secret.
Phil, You could do so much more with a donation to Project Valor IT. I think LEX has a button.
MajHarvey, Good workout, Huh!
Actually, I think Lex only had a Valour-IT button during the November fundraiser. But you can donate here anytime.
Lex (and so many commenters above), that was absolutely beautiful writing. I haven’t had the privilege to attend an MCRD graduation, but I see exactly what you describe in the families and new Marines who come through the USO.
It’s amazing to watch the kids that come through for boot camp [the DI's meet them at the USO], then see a new recruit with his family three months later and know him to be so changed that you don’t have a chance of recognizing him.
I can usually identify newly-minted Marines in/out of uniform a mile away; they have a bearing that fiercely proclaims, “I’m a (proud) and disciplined Marine,” yet is unable to hide the wide-eyed “God, I hope I don’t mess this up or embarrass the Corps” fear. If you doubt the truth of that dichotomy, watch an older Marine’s reaction when you mention it to him.
And I love to say “congratulations” to them and watch that stern Marine bearing shatter into a huge, open grin. It’s all at once humbling and gratifying and a stab to the heart to watch past, present and future collide as they once again stand where they started as very different people three months ago.
What can we purchase for them that will repay in any measure what they have offered up for us?
The most important thing we can do for them is to start electing Congressional representatives that have honor, ethics, and a frikking spine.
[...] I mentioned a few weeks ago that my OR professor from Monterey was battling stage IV cancer. I think I mentioned that I respected the fact that he was spending the time he isn’t passing in chemo trying to teach us how to, you know: Optimize things. [...]