Monday, February 28, 2011

A Veteran

Well, it’s official. I’m a vet. Well, yeah, I’ve always been, but I just joined the American Legion, which means I’m good to go officially hang out and drink with some old-timers at any post in the U.S.

It’s odd to me how just six years of my life will define who I am forever. Not even six years – I was a Reservist, a one-weekend-a-month and every-other-year-in-Iraq warrior. If you were to add up all my days in uniform it would only be somewhere between two and a half and three years.

Ultimately, I got out because I thought I could do bigger things than just being a Marine. If I didn’t think I could do anything bigger, I would’ve stayed in until retirement. I would’ve been one of those cranky grandpas eventually with the “not as mean, not as lean; still a Marine” bumper stickers on my old-ass Jeep.

It’s been a crazy ride and it continues to be crazy still. These days, no one believes I’ve ever served because my big ol’ beer belly, and the fact they see me occasionally with a seriously unkempt and wild beard. And I write poetry, don’t wake up before eleven very often, and I certainly don’t do many of the other stereotypes you would expect of a veteran.

I guess the truth is that I never was a very good Marine. I mean, I knew everything about all the weapons, and how to the wear the uniform, and how to drill my subordinate men, but I just never was a killer. I didn’t enjoy wrestling or being macho. And I got tired of always needing to be on the edge all the time.

I wish I had been more tough. And I still think about reenlistment all the time. Like all Marines, my ideas of the Corps were initially groomed with Full Metal Jacket, and I always thought Combat Correspondent would be a super sweet job. I’m pretty sure I could definitely get that gig, just like the main character in that movie, with my upcoming degree in creative writing from Hopkins.

But here I am. I’m a vet. I can’t be anything but. I still sometimes feel sad about the brothers I lost. Memorial Day is the most serious day of my year. I occasionally still flip out on civilians when they act stupid or lazy. A mishandled or uncared for American flag makes me want to stab people. I still wish I could be in Afghanistan doing more.

Maybe I’ll never be anything bigger than the monikers I once had: Devil Dog; Jarhead; Leatherneck; Warrior; Marine.

Maybe I’ll never be bigger than my experiences or ever truly move past them. But that’s okay for me. Because I don’t regret anything, and all the bull**** that came with being in the service swirled in with the best and worst moments of my life – coming home, and remembering those who didn’t – has made me the best and strongest man I could ever be.

A veteran.  A proud veteran.



Connect with Dario online:
Personal Website (Free Writing, Podcast, Dario in the Media, Biography, Books, Blogs)
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Monday, February 14, 2011

Courage

So after two years away from the restaurant biz, I’ve acquiesced to my significant (and climbing) debt and decided to get a part-time job as a server at Carrabba’s Italian Restaurant. And still, to this day, being a civilian and working as one is just plain weird and frustrating.

We had our orientation the other day, a mandatory occasion in corporate settings that was predictably tedious and dumb: the big money-making machine talking via their managers about how “authentic” they are and how many “values” they have.

Courage was one of those values. Yes, courage. The same tenet of my Marine Corps experience as reinforced and drilled into my brain for an entire six years as the Marine Corps motto: “Honor, Courage, Commitment!”  And I was almost enraged that Carrabba’s would dare use that term in their business culture.

Courage in the Marines is having the wherewithal to run through hails of fire to pick up your wounded comrade. It’s holding your position as ordered even though a superiorly-numbered enemy attacks you. It’s removing your sense of self and leaping on a grenade to save other Marine’s lives.

Courage at Carrabba’s is making sure you take time to do things the right way: using a jigger to measure alcoholic drinks properly; making sure you upsell a customer to enhance your Per Person Average; showing up to work on time in a not-too-disheveled uniform.


I hate that they would use that term. It cheapens the sacrifice of my fallen friends.


Connect with Dario online:
Personal Website (Free Writing, Podcast, Dario in the Media, Biography, Books, Blogs)
20 Something Magazine (Editor-in-Chief, Creator)
JMWW Literary Journal (Senior Nonfiction Editor)
The Veterans Writing Project (Instructor, Nonfiction Editor)
LinkedIn (Professional Stuff)
Facebook (Be my friend?)