As a little boy you have many more options today than Toby Tyler did...although, I do feel like I am in a circus anyway, from time to time. You start out wanting to be like Dad, or a Cowboy, a Fireman, a Policeman, etc.
Cowboy was a natural for me growing up in the rural part of Eastern Washington on the same property with my maternal Grandparents, and not far from a ton of other Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, Great Grandparents and all with a range of origins that were down-right Hill Billy to survivors of the Dust Bowl. My Uncle Jim used to hint at a rumor that we had one relative who had been a horse thief. Cowboy Royalty! An abundance of Country AND Western Music as I grew up and several pastures to run barefoot through, cows, goats, pigs and the like to take care of. And even a couple of horses! Yep. Being a Cowboy was lookin' good!
The reality of life as a farm boy set in before puberty. Not something that I wanted. Politics? I saw what happened to a cousin when he told Grandma that he wanted to be an "honest attorney." Grandma laughed for quite awhile...SOOOO...that was out. JCPenney management? Nawww. Marines like Vinny? Air Force like Mike? Army like Ed? Every time I polled Mom, her response was, "Go ahead. Probably be the best thing for you." I was quickly running out of options and the military obviously was not having the shock value with Mom that I was looking for.
Dad was a mechanic for my entire life. He would get called out more frequently...at all hours of the day and night by people whose cars he worked on. I learned a lot from him over the years...I still do a lot of my on wrench work on my cars...and have passed that appreciation onto my oldest son. But still, not a life that appealed to me.
Late one June night...sitting up watching t.v. with my friend and road trip buddy Chuck...a Coast Guard Recruiting commercial came on. That was it! I would join the Coast Guard. So I talked Chuck into driving to Yakima-the closest recruiting office...it was a Sunday night and I had been cutting classes at CBC anyway. So we got there at 0400 on Monday morning, slept in the car until 0800. I ran the recruiter gauntlet...the Coast Guard was at the end of the hall of the other four branches. I walked in, placed both hands on the desk in front of RM1 Pete Westerberg and said, "Where do I sign?!" Petty Officer Westerberg was patient and amused. He told me to cool my jets that, one, I had to take a test, and two, there was a waiting list. So after I took and passed the test...I still had to go back home.
Going back home would not have been a big deal, except for one thing. I had left a note (taped...it was before yellow stickies) on the bathroom mirror..."Mom & Dad...the next time you see me, I'll be in the U. S. Coast Guard." So. Humbly...I went back home...and got the silent treatment for three days.
On the third day, I walked into the kitchen where Mom was doing dishes. I helped in silence until she asked me, "So. How long are you in for?"
Over the next few months...I celebrated my 20th birthday, continued to work at JCPenney, also worked the wheat harvest...that was the Summer following the eruption of Mt St. Helens...and the wheat was huge. Helped my Uncle work on his Steam Boat ARTEMIS for a bit too. In January 1981 I left for Boot Camp.
I often think about something that Hank Sauer, my HS Cross Country Coach used to tell us. "Know the course!" He would say. "If you don't know where you're going, you'll end up some place else." Boy. Was he right!
Psalm 107:23 became my life motto; "Those who go down to the sea in ships, who do their work on the great waters, they see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep."
NEXT: Boot Camp
Great story.
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