Raise Your Right Hand
He said the oath, a pledge of allegiance to follow the orders of his superiors for the next five years. Today, my son ships out to Fort Sill for basic training. We met him at the Portland MEPS (Military Enlistment Processing Station) and he was tagged and tired. The partying is over, temporarily in his mind and fortunately for him in mine.
The pages in the book of life are being written, and I have no idea how this chapter will read. After the swearing in, we sat in Starbucks to say our good-byes and ignore the stressful undertones. His younger brother seemed on edge and disengaged and the future soldier misinterpreted my humor as criticism. This family outing was shaping up better than expected.
He will reach a break it or make it point, a hard place to go for sure, but when he emerges having decided to make it, he will meet an improved version of himself. I hear the spiritual voice, that liberally inclined critic disagreeing with my synopsis, however, tolerance, open-mindedness, and a let it all hang out attitude, has miserably failed.
He needs a different parent. A no-nonsense, do as you are told, failure isn’t an option, suck it up, in your face, do you hear me, shut the fuck up, and to follow a pre-determined, high expectation routine. A radical departure from his recent lifestyle. We walked back to the MEPS building and he continued on to the third floor onto federal property and likely wondering what the hell was he doing.
