Mentorship

So lad, I left tonight for another trip to another city.  This time it is Tampa, and who knows where is next.  A kiss on the cheek and I was gone, this time leaving you with the mandate to build a fortress on the planet Hoth, using all of your Legos.  As I left, you were explaining that you had made a dinner table, and the little 1x2 brick was a napkin.  I envy your perspective – On the battle for Hoth, I am sure there was a dining facility – probably not as nice as the one I ate at in Qatar, but the rebels probably did their best on the frozen, hostile planet.  And I am sure they needed napkins to keep their hands clean for the impending invasion by Imperial forces.  I am just taking off, and I already can’t wait to get home to see what abstract battle position you have created.  This weekend is BrickLink in DC – A two day convention for Legos.  When you finally can read this, I hope you remembered us sneaking out and leaving Mom and Zoe at home.

Last night, we left a party for my nephew Rob, who just graduated high school at 17.  Next year he is off to college, and then into the working world.  It was a lovely event, and when we left you were ground into powder by running with the big kids all day and night.  You fell asleep in the back seat 5 minutes after I started the engine.  I was left to think about the young man who kind of watched over you all night.  He was a friend of Rob’s and a really great kid. 

When I first met him, it was the night of Prom, and the kids had all come to the beach for the next day.  He is a pretty typical 18 year old – knows he wants a future but doesn’t know what that future is, or how to get there.  When we met after Prom, the boy had no college acceptances, while all of his friends were planning their Freshman year.  He had no real plans, and no idea how to even develop a goal.  Until this week. 

Somehow this young man walked into the Recruiter for the Marine Corps, having seen the ads on television, and heard of the escapades of brotherhood, honor and patriotism.  And while all of these traits have my respect, and I hope that some day you will experience even a few minutes of any of these, I was left to wonder how many young men and women, make this decision, without any sort of mentorship.

When this young man – I will call him Jughead – told me of his decision, I was split down the middle – I was thrilled for him – he has made a commitment – a decision, like so many of us.  He was swayed by the sound of the guns and the romance of the danger, and he swore that for at least the next 4 years, he would protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that he will obey the orders of the President, and the officers appointed above him, so help him God – By the way, that was from memory – I suspect I may have missed a word here or there, but overall it says “Welcome to the ”.  We all take this oath, and in turn, the US owns us for 8 years.   And I was proud of the kid.

But I was also pissed.  I know this is going to sound insane, but a big part of me was angry.  This young man signed the most important document of his life – and had no idea what he was signing up for.  The world of the military offers training in every imaginable field – from shower repair to missile repair, from firefighting to firing cannons, and from medical corpsman to mortuary affairs.  The opportunities are boundless, and many of these jobs train you in a field that provides experience which has real value in the civilian sector.  Medics leave the Army as EMT or paramedic equivalents.  Network engineers leave with certifications in network security, network management and many others.  Name a field and you can find a civilian equivalent.  Even Combat Engineers.  They learn basic construction and advanced demolitions, which can pay well as you level old stadiums.  All of these train real skills, except Infantry.  From personal experience, I can tell you that when you go to the college-military liaison (Yes, most schools have these), and you tell them what you did, they offer you a handful of credits in Physical Education, and send you on your way, while the other veterans get Computer Science, Biology or other credits for the smart work they did.  My point is – Jughead doesn’t even know what job he has yet, but he still signed on the line.  And so I was pissed.  I wasn’t pissed at Jughead – I was pissed that no one he knew cared enough to tag along with him as his advocate for when the recruiter was dripping honey into his ear.

However, it is tough to be 18.  Everyone has advice, and you think you are old enough to know better than everyone else.  You are healthy, you are strong enough, and the government tells you that you can vote and selective service tells you that you are old enough to serve at arms.  You can lease a car, if someone believes you can afford it.  You are indestructible – Just ask all those kids who die racing cars after a couple of beers, like my old friend Dave O’Dell did.  But the reality is – and this is a real news flash - YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT.  I was there – I thought I knew it all.  Off to college, in a major I didn’t understand, because I was told to.  I flunked out and dropped into the Army.  I didn’t know shit either.

I was lucky though – I had an old salt of a sergeant in my life at the time – close to 30 years of service behind him, and he coached me through the process – I would talk to the recruiter and then talk to Sergeant Franks.  And Franks would tell me where I was jacked up and set me back on course.  All the way through until I was shipped off to Basic Training – With Franks laughing his ass off at me for choosing Infantry, just like he had 30 years before.  And while I loved it, and many do, the reality is that the career field provides nothing except  a lot of good stories and real character building.  That’s what they call carrying heavy gear for long stretches at a time with limited food and water – Character.  And someday when I see old Jim Franks in Valhalla, I assure you I will buy him a pint, smash him in the jaw and then hug him. 

My point is that I had a mentor.  And my lesson to you is - pick a mentor as well.  Hopefully by then I will have helped you enough along the way that you will pick me, but I will understand if you don’t.  Parents are tough, and by then, I will have helped you become a young man and probably pissed you off along the way.  I will have taught you where I can, let you fail when you need to and picked you up by the belt and dragged you across the line when it requires.  I will always be there for you, but its ok to get advice from others you respect – just don’t give away the respect to those who haven’t earned it.   I do promise that if you pick me, and you want to do something that I know nothing about, I promise to tell you that I don’t know anything about it, and help you find someone who does.

And when you get to that life’s decision, and you have someone to talk to, make sure you shut up and listen – Even I can do it when it counts.  Listen to both sides (Ask old President Nixon what happens when you don’t).  Give credence to both sides, mitigate those who argue from a position of emotion, and listen most to those who did what you want to do – especially those who share both the positives and the negatives.  Poor Jughead only has seen the best of the picture now, but the recruiter probably didn’t show him the picture of the soldier holding his trooper after he lost his father to cancer hundreds of miles away.  Or the picture of the soldier whose wife had their baby while he was 7,000 miles away.  There are lessons in the words of these veterans of life that you cannot ignore, whether it is joining the Marines or starting a family or even starting a business.  Shut up and listen.  And someday, when your son comes to you to talk about joining the Army, shut up and listen to him too.  And then give him the number for the Air Force.

Jughead finds out what jobs he is eligible for on Tuesday.  I gave him my number  - if he doesn’t call Tuesday, I will be home late, as I will have to detour through Sewell, New Jersey for a little impromptu woodline counseling.  In the meantime, I will sit back, and wait to see how you defend the Planet Hoth, remember fondly Jim Franks, who is probably already waiting in Valhalla, with some booby trapped plastic spoons (a great trick he taught me), and a pint for me.