Today, tomorrow, and in days to come, America is focused on the national midterm election, for the results will determine where and how we progress as a nation. But I have written enough about this election, and it, dear reader, has occupied way too much of your and my personal bandwidth.

So, let’s go to something different, and turn to a topic dear to a special place in my heart. The other day I got a note from Southport’s Jim Singer inviting me to celebrate the 251st Birthday of the U.S. Marine Corps. You may know Jim. He is a retired air transport executive who spent much of his early development as a Marine Corps lieutenant leading young men through the bush in the former Republic of South Vietnam. Nuff said. He is also the driving force behind the region’s community effort to honor veterans with more than 700 individual banners decorating our neighborhoods.

Jim invited me to join other Marines at Brady’s eatery around noon Nov. 10 to share a meal and, of course, tell lies about how we all … never mind. Of course, some may share fibs. In the Corps, these tall tales (sometimes they are even true) are called sea stories. They are Marine tradition, one of those things ingrained in you once you raise your right hand at boot camp.

At the Boothbay USMC birthday bash, a couple dozen old gaffers and a few youngsters will hear someone read the Commandant’s birthday greeting. They will share a meal and birthday cake (cut with an officer’s dress sword). The first piece of birthday cake is always shared by the youngest and oldest Marines.

This is the 251st birthday of the Corps' founding, which took place in a Philadelphia Tavern on Nov. 10, 1775. It is also the 61st anniversary of the day Uncle Sam told me to report to a draft board in a downtown Indianapolis office building.

Like today, 1965 was a time of national turmoil as the Vietnam War was beginning to heat up and many questioned the conflict. And between 1964 and 1973, about two million young men were drafted into the armed services.

On Nov. 10, 1965, one of those young men was me. A couple dozen of us were sitting in a classroom when an overstuffed Army sergeant walked in and announced, “We need three Marines. Who wants to volunteer?” No one moved. Not one hand waved. “OK,” he said, looking over the crowd, settling his gaze on a big guy in the back row. “You look like a Viet Cong killer to me,” he said as he turned in my direction, pointing at my thick eyeglasses. “And you, sealed beams.” Then he looked around the room, and pointed at a guy sleeping in the corner. 
“When the black guy in the corner wakes up, somebody tell him he is a Marine.”

The three of us were hustled out of the room, pushed into a van, stuffed into a 707, and flown to San Diego's Marine Corps Recruit Depot, where we were ordered to stand in line, put our feet on the yellow footprints painted on the floor, and shut up. That was the beginning of my Marine Corps career that lasted two years, two months, and 10 days, including nine months in the former Republic of South Vietnam. No, I am not going to tell you a bunch of sea stories about my time in the service. Maybe later. Maybe much later. But I will share this much. Marine boot camp is designed to teach you to serve the mission of the Corps and how to survive. There is the Marine way, and the wrong way. Period.

For me, boot camp was a time when I could put my mind in neutral and not worry about what I was going to do today and tomorrow. The Marines taught you the proper way to fire and clean a rifle; they prescribed how to fold your socks, your shorts, and how to tie your boots. That gave me the freedom to think, to decide it was time to quit fooling around with life and finally grow up.

Today, some 61 years later, my back aches and I reach for a cane as I grab another cup of morning coffee, but in my mind, I am still a young Marine motivated with an almost spiritual sense of pride and purpose. And, yes, Sgt. N., like you taught me, my first morning chore is to make the bed.

Happy 251st birthday, Marine Corps. May you never again be deployed over choppy seas. But if you are, I know you will always be ready to serve our nation with honor.

Semper Fidelis.