Six years ago, I sat with my husband, our eleventh-grade son, and a Marine Colonel at Truffles, having lunch to discuss taking the road less traveled. As the parents of a child interested in the military when we have no military experience, it seemed the right thing to do to bring in someone qualified to mentor and guide us. I sat there quietly while they asked each other questions, and then the Colonel turned to me and asked, “Mom, how do you feel about all this?”
My eyes watered. I said I supported him in his decision, but I wanted it to be informed, and I meekly finished with, “But I’m scared.” Finally, the truth spilled out, along with some tears. Any parent is a little afraid of having their child make a monumental decision that affects their safety, future, and availability to stay nearby. Our son not only wanted to join the Marines; he desired to become an aviator.
This May, he will be commissioned as a 2nd Lt in the United States Marine Corps with an aviation contract. It has not been without challenges, sacrifices, or mentors guiding us along the way.
I have learned countless acronyms, and I think I know more than I probably do. Once, I was in line at Publix, and an elderly gentleman was in line behind me. He was wearing a hat that said ARMY. I smiled and said, “Thank you for your service.” He responded, “It was my honor.”
Walter & Bonnie Huff, Maximilian, Mary Frances, Jacqueline and Lawson Lowrey.
His response made me proud; for some reason, I felt compelled to tell him my son would be a Marine. He quickly responded, “MARINE. Muscles Are Required. Intelligence Not Essential.” I laughed. Then he pointed to his hat with the word ARMY and said, “Ain’t Really Marine Yet.”
He had a good sense of humor, and he probably had no idea that I tucked our exchange away in my memory, and it always brings me a smile. It made me realize that all those in this club are a family. A family that teases and understands each other like no one else. A family that is diverse and opinionated, each with their own skills and strengths.
For the last two summers, we have worked around my son’s OCS (Officer Candidate School … see how I used an acronym?) schedule in Quantico, Virginia. The expression “Hurry up and wait” is an actual military mantra. Not knowing for months which session he would attend put a kink in so many plans. Do we plan a vacation? Will he be here for his sibling’s graduation? Does he take that summer school class? Will he be here when his cousins, aunts, and uncles come to visit? I learned early on that we no longer have a real say in his schedule. We must continue with our plans, and if he can attend the graduation, he will be there. If he can’t, we take more pictures and share them with him.
We will continue learning to accept what we can’t control; letting go of trying to manage everything is also a comfort to him. I know there are times when he feels like he is missing out, so as a parent, my job is to make him aware that it is okay. It is a learning process for us all.
This reminds me of a time when my older sister was deployed to Korea, and we filmed Christmas morning and sent it to her. We opened our presents, interviewed each other, and sent her a VHS tape so she felt included and loved. I wonder if she still has that recording? It was before cell phones, personal computers, and email. This was way before the time when we recorded and documented everything in our lives. Nonetheless, we let her know she was missed, and doesn’t everyone want to feel that their presence or absence matters?
Maximilian Lowrey and Baylor Lin, his rack mate.
Once your child commits to this path of service, you listen to the news differently. A war far away doesn’t seem so far anymore. I catch myself paying closer attention to military action around the world—things I never concerned myself with before. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I didn’t pay attention to any of these matters until it became personal. A conflict happening in the Middle East, Ukraine, China, and Russia seemed so far removed from my life until recently. And I’m sorry for that selfish attitude.
Thousands of parents have been in my shoes before me, and I took their families’ sacrifices for granted. I’m not special. I’m just another parent who is now awakened to the fact that men and women all over the world serve our country for our peace.
I look forward to standing with friends and family around our flagpole that proudly displays our American flag whipping in the wind over the bank of the May River and watching our son be commissioned into the United States Marine Corps as a 2nd Lt. What an honor to witness his commissioning by his mentor, Major Brandon Wilkins.
This journey didn’t belong to my son alone; it belonged to all those who guided, taught, loved, pushed, and raised him. It was our journey.
My son is not the only young person in our community making their commissioning this May. It is the road less traveled, and to all of you who are taking this road, may I be the first but not the last to say, “Thank you for your service.”
