Gooooooooooooooo Joe!

We all talked about how some people are destined to be a part of a certain class by how we are raised. I fit right into that category despite how hard I initially tried to avoid it. I came from a military family. From my Great-Grandfather down, every male on my father's side of the family joined the military at some point. My Great-Grandpa and Grandpa were in the Army. My father was in the Coast Guard. Eventually I came to be part of this family, through my years living as a "Military Brat."

From a young age I remember always be interested in GI Joe. I loved the guns, the patriotism and always getting the bad guy. My dad would buy me all the toys, Jets, action figures, everything like that. I was raised single by my Dad after their divorce and everything I knew was military. All my friends lived on base, at school we would hang together since common backgrounds draw people near. I was always proud of what my dad did, and he would often show me his workplace and the aircraft, C-130H, that he navigated for.

One day he gave me a special present, it was this special edition GI Doll of a Marine in dress blues. I was infatuated with it. He would tell me how the Marines were the best of the best, and no one could beat them. I knew a little of this from GI Joe's Gung Ho. Right then and there at the age of 7, I said I was going to be a Marine.

By the age of 18 I hated everything about the military. I hated moving, I hated losing friends and most of all I hated the fact that I hardly saw my dad. We were always raised by baby-sitters and then eventually my Step-Mom who I never got along with. I hated authority, did poorly in workplaces, even was fired from some. I was originally in ROTC in high school around this time, and even quit that despite having a very encouraging Master Sergeant of the Marines trying to guide me in life. I was not going to be in the military.

I left at age 20 to find my own way in life, landing in Ohio with a girl I met on the internet. There I had no luck just as before. Could not find or even hold a job, relationship issues and the fact I was almost out of money loomed over my head. I refused to go home to my loving family who opened their arms to me. I was not going to be seen as a failure who dropped out of college and couldn't be successful like my father. I thought long and hard on what I wanted to do, and like a king who dismisses his oracle as foolish, I found myself in the fate that was for told by society.

I decided I was going in the military. I wasn't going to be Army or Coast Guard though, no they won't prove to my father how successful I can be.

I was going to be a United States Marine.

And that's how this little shaping of my life came to be. Seeing how successful my father was, pride and a continuation of tradition molded me towards the life as a Marine. Life brought me up believing the military was the highest honor a citizen could ever achieve. I am sure liberal hippie would tell you otherwise. (No offense to hippies.) The way I was shaped by living in a life surrounded by Aircraft, guns and uniforms lead me to where I spent 5 years of my life.

It wasn't just any 5 years. I served aboard a KC-130J. The same aircraft as my father, only slightly updated.