Life

Me and the Marines

~ Donald J. Lund

USMC turns 250-years old!

For anyone who didn’t serve the United States Marine Corps, it really is impossible to explain. I can also say when I enlisted a few weeks after graduating high school, I had no idea what I had volunteered to be a part of.

I suppose the idea was planted in my brain at the start of my senior year. It was half-time at a football game, I was hanging out with some guys talking about what they may or may not do after high school. One thought jumped out, as my pal Todd talked about the U.S. Marine Corps. I knew more about all of the other branches of service, but he talked about the unique challenge of it. I actually considered I would be heading off to college with most of my classmates.

That idea vanished with a lack of funds. 

I had enough saved up for maybe one semester at the city college in Denver, and my family at the time had zero collegiate resources.

I would say if you’re 18-years old without a backup plan, avoid backyard graduation parties with Marine recruiters in them. Coors Light beer and a dude in uniform asking how many sit-ups I can do, should set off some alarms. 

Unless you are up for that unique challenge. They at least warn you up front, this ain’t for everyone, and not everyone gets through Boot Camp. I bought in anyway. I’m glad I did.

I guess that’s one of those reasons the USMC has the track record it does, in peacetime or wartime, things get done. I should note, if I was writing this for a specific audience of Jarheads past and present, it would include a great number of swear words. However, since this is a family friendly reflection, I will leave out the requisite f-bombs that are a part of nearly every conversation I’ve ever had with a fellow Marine.

The upside of six years in The Corps, it is impossible to offend me. You may try, and others have tried, but I have heard far worse things, far worse real world stories from my brothers and sisters during my time with them.

I had some fantastic experiences as well, working at the Pentagon in Washington, DC, at Fleet Intelligence Center Pacific in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Fleet Intelligence Center Europe-Atlantic in Alexandria, Virginia, Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, North Carolina, and some time at some of those fine U.S. Air Force intel schools, at Strategic Air Command HQ in Omaha, Nebraska and the now defunct Lowry AFB in Aurora, Colorado.

Yes, that is correct, I was in intel. Or America’s favorite oxymoron — military intelligence.

I learned a bunch. A top-secret codeword clearance was fun. I mostly learned that most conspiracy theories are far too complicated. Humans, in general have a steep learning curve. When you mix in international politics and military planning, the mistakes are unending. People do unwise things, that’s really the answer. And people are horrible about keeping secrets — which is the other reason I don’t really buy into any conspiracy from either side of the political isle.

It’s the off-duty Marine activities you have to keep an eye on. Alcohol mixing with guys who think they are bullet-proof is a bad combination. I have life long memories of some of those adventures, but I will not share here, as I am not sure about the statute of limitations stands with a handful of them.

I’ve run into a bunch of former Marines I never served with, but they look out for me anyway, and I do for them. It’s one of those things I didn’t anticipate.

I only got to be a part of six of the 250 years, but I am proud of my fraction of time. While I did enjoy my days in the Corps— it was time for me to get out and see normal people again, and focus on my little family. 

Again, overall, the USMC experience is tough to relate, but I can say the challenges and the work I did then, made me ready for the challenges and curveballs life throws at all of us.

Of course, not everyone gets through their time, some sacrificed all, and I think of them too. I also think of those veterans continuing to deal with health and mental health issues. Most of my charity funds go to helping veterans who aren’t doing as well as they could.

I also know that no matter how upside down the world gets, I sleep well knowing today’s Marines are out there. We do need some hardcore (enter swear words here) on those walls and on those ships, and I am glad they are out there.

Happy Birthday Marines!

Resolving Unresolved Resolutions

~ Donald J. Lund

New Year’s resolutions used to be kind of fun and interesting.

If you were anything like me, these things to be resolved would begin as last minute observations and future hopes I would forge into a mini-contract from me to me. I would actually tally a list of small and/or large goals scrawled on paper and seal them into an envelope. Generally this document of sudden importance included a promise to oneself of some kind improvement over the previous calendar year — which seemingly vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

At year’s end, I would open my envelope to review what I had resolved for the year.

And if you’re like me, not much in any of the to do list got done. Despite the epic failure of the previous promises, I would regroup and assemble my hopes for the ‘New Year’ and write to me again.  Rinse and repeat disappointment adds up pretty fast when reviewing all of those lost opportunities to be a better me and climb those big dreams of a dreamy, bright future.

Life happens and as such it wears down that youthful optimism.  About fifteen years ago, I ripped open the last of my resolution lists and realized the magical turning of the calendar at the end of New Year’s Eve isn’t really magical.

If you’re like me, at some point, you sat down to do a list of those end of year promises and essentially said, “Screw this, I’m going to wing it this year.”

Of course, a decade or so of “winging it” produces eerily similar results lists of resolutions.

So when life gets so busy and begins to pass one by, where does a person go when goals go unmet and the improvement meter hasn’t budged in months or years?

Perhaps an evolving and well thought out personal blog is the place to be. Maybe promises or resolutions made in the public eye or the prying eyes of the ever watchful world wide web will push me to do better and be better.

Or not.

What if the path of western civilization philosophy has led my life strategy astray?

You know the basics. We all need to strive for perfection, be the best, be rich, be the most wise, and be the strongest. Get all A’s in school, be the best society can offer, drive the hot car, buy the biggest house possible and be the boss. The standards are set high, and if you can’t be perfect, try to be as close to it as possible.

No participation trophies in life. Win it all or you are a failure.

Right? I mean that’s not the exact mantra of our current world, but it sure feels like the outline I grew up with.

Many of my resolutions are unresolved. My goals, based on the level of perfection I was taught to aim for are generally unmet.  I got a bunch of A’s in school. But I failed some classes too. The cycle continues through work – promotions, demotions, fired and failed to or impossible health and beauty standards set by photoshopped perfect people on all of the magazine covers. How rich is rich these days? Billionaire or bust?

And yet, with each New Year, we can do a slight if not full reset. A promise of a bigger, brighter more perfect tomorrow.

We should strive for better. We should aim high. I liked all the A’s I got. I enjoyed a quick climb up a corporate ladder. I love winning and when my teams win.

On the flip side, losses happen. Pain happens. Reality can be cruel when our model of ultimate achievement breaks down.

I’ve learned it is okay I didn’t hit all my improvement goals in a timely fashion. It is okay to forgive me for not hitting every goal – yet. Maybe unmet resolutions are a good thing. Perfection sounds great, but maybe it is cool to be human, flaws and all.  I’ve learned from those crazy lists of promises is — not to make any crazy lists of promises to myself or anyone else.

I generally resolve to do better as available.

Improvement still works on a Wednesday morning in the middle of June. Or tomorrow afternoon while stuck in traffic. Better can happen being nice to the cashier at the gas station or a random act of kindness to folks any day of the year.

Little things here and there. No big lists, no big letdowns, and no impossible standards basically means I don’t let myself down with a list of things I hoped to accomplish in a single year. Time flies anyway, is a year enough time to get it all done?

Now I aim for good stuff like love more, forgive often, hug good people and try again the next morning.

If you’re getting older like me, maybe the reality of simply dusting ourselves off after mistakes is a good start. Or the fact that a New Year is a good opportunity to be a best version of ourselves, but so is next Tuesday night.

 

 

 

 

Mile Marker

~ Donald J. Lund

Memory is a funny thing.

The first chill in the air after a long, hot summer snaps you back into autumn mode and a series of memories associated with the seasonal passage of time.  Another season prepares to turn. Another mile marker of sorts on the road of life.

Add in a specific task from the past with the cold, crisp morning air and the memory goes back to work.  The mind reaches back to assemble relatable images and fragments in order to present a usable flashback segment from this lifespan.

In this case, older me was driving to a swimming pool and the recall shuffled back several decades to younger me doing something very similar. Cold air and swimming find substantive space in my memories of high school swim team mornings.

I was always impressed by the teenage version of me for simply getting out of bed at 4:30 every morning for the late fall early winter high school season.  I would spend several  months crawling out of a heated waterbed into near frigid, rarified mile high air and then into an unreasonably cold recreation center swimming pool.

As an added bonus our coach insisted the team carpool as much as we could for bonding and accountability, team building, etc. Seniors on the team generally had to fit as many underclassmen as they could – or in some cases as many as they could stand, into their vehicles for travel to practice.

In my case, I was able to team up with Steve, my very good friend and fellow junior. A friendly face helped, but our driver was a senior who was not thrilled with the whole carpool concept.  His vehicle was a Subaru Brat. Our driver was Brad.  And Brad was a bit of a brat himself.  At least at the start of the carpool time.

If you’ve never seen a Brat, they are unique and in my mind, very impractical vehicles.  A micro pick-up of sorts, tiny in the front and a tiny open air ‘cargo’ bed fitted with a rear facing jump seat. On a high volume day, the car could uncomfortably fit two in the front and two more in the back.  During the first few weeks of travel to practice, me and Steve got the magical experience of the open air cargo area jump seat, while Brad was nice and warm up front.

Late fall and winter morning air, plus some windchill from a moving vehicle and there were some mornings when that unreasonably cold swimming pool was a welcome end to that journey to practice.  Eventually, Steve and I got to trade time up front with Brad, who eventually saw us as teammates and not cold cargo.  When it was snowing, we even crammed three of us into a space where three humans did not really fit. A mundane trip to practice becomes quite exciting when one has to quickly move their lower extremities out of the way of the driver’s hand trying to shift gears.

It was actually quite a bit of fun.  The whole swim team experience stays with me.  Many of us actually swam on two teams, the local city team and the high school team in order to push our conditioning to the limit.  At the apex of the season, we would hit five miles a day in the water.  I get tired driving five miles these days, much less attempting to swim such a distance.

Fast forward to today, and I still am able to be impressed by what younger me accomplished.  It brings out a series of memories and lifelong milestones or mile markers along the way.  Memories jump back to my first tackle in football, that first day of keeping my bicycle balanced to ride it on a regular basis, my first car, my first kiss, my first love, and my first time…well, like I said, memory is funny thing.  Flashes from the past triggered by a simple change in weather, like the morning with a chill in the air in any given year along the way.

I now hope the younger version of me is slightly impressed.  Three decades later I have found sanctuary again in moving across the water.  I am far slower than before, yet there is peace found in the rhythm of swimming at a reasonable pace.  I can think about what chores I need to get done, the stories I want to write and plan upcoming family events on an invisible mental calendar. And then I hit the wall and turn back, thinking more or less as I continue on my way.

It has only been two weeks back in the water, but it connects to all of those other times I spent moving from one end of the pool to the other.  In my head, five miles a day was once routine as we knocked out 5200-5600 yards in two hours.  Easy mode, right?

Well, old me nearly drowned himself topping 1100 yards in 45 minutes last week. Then I got to 1200 the next time in, then 1250 and this morning, there was something in the air.  It was more than a chill in the air.  There was an air of confidence too.

Young me was taunting the old man a bit.

After a brief warm-up this morning, old me crushed the timed lap by nine seconds compared to previous old guy workouts.  Take that younger me.

The pool this morning was a little bit colder than usual.  And I felt a little stronger.

I pushed along rather nicely and knocked out 1825 yards.  A mere 65-yards over a mile. But I’ll take it.

It is not as exciting as becoming a father or buying that first car, but a literal mile marker in the pool once again. Be it a mile marker in life, or in the pool, I may be hitting a few more new goals in and out of the water.  And maybe I’m just getting warmed up.

You go old me.

Swim on…