Gene Simmons: Family Jewels. (I know…who actually watches that show? Sometimes, me.)
And here it is…reason #5000 I’m glad that I didn’t join the marines. Yeah, I know…me in the marines? Really? It was almost true.
When I was 18 my best friend joined. Coincidentally at the time I wanted to end up as a police officer. Somehow the idea entered my brain (a combination of her suggestion, and my ultimate goal) that I should join too. They gave us all the pretty speeches about how we’d end up in the same platoon and such…and how much easier it is to enter the police force having military background…and how they put you through school; blah, blah, blah (I say this now, of course; back then it excited me). Maybe at the time in some way it would have been a way for me to do something really different, and to remove myself from what I was used to.
I fully intended to do this. When 5am came on the day that I was to take my tests and be sworn in it just so happened that my sister’s car, a Ford falcon, was parked directly behind mine. I’m sad to admit it but I wasn’t able to actually start the car to move it because it involved some ‘choke’ thing that at that age I really didn’t know how to operate (come to think of it, I still don’t know how that works). Just as I was trying to wake up my sister to move her car my mom was leaving for work. She was very firm in her conviction that my sister not move the car because she (rightfully as it turns out) didn’t support my decision to join the marines. An argument at 5am ensued. My mom won. I called my recruiting officer to tell them that I wouldn’t be able to meet them at their office because I was stuck at home. Of course, he said that he would be right over to pick me up and take me down there. A more intense argument ensued. Eventually my mom had to go to work and she sort of had to give up. My recruiting officer came to get me and we proceeded downtown to do all the stuff.
As far as I can recall what I learned prior to them asking me to take the oath, was that I could have joined the air force (this is for the more intelligent people, supposedly), and that I was not just 5′6″ but 5′6″ and 1/2. The problem came when it came time for me to actually commit. Knowledge that it was time for me to officially commit (knowing that after that there would be legal consequences if I changed my fickle mind at the time) gave me pause, to say the least. I told my recruiting officer in the most adult way that I could at the age of 18, that I thought it best if I put some more thought into my decision. I should have just ran and hopped a bus.
My need to express hesitance kept me down there for another two hours, because I kept myself at the mercy of my recruiting officer who had given me a ride, rather than just walking out. Questions were pelted at me about why I was hesitating…was it my mother who was influencing me, was it my friends…was it just fear. Had I actually answered any of his questions to the fullest he would have known that it was none of those things really. I just needed time. The horrid mistake he made was keeping me down there and pressuring me, because the more anyone pressures me about something I am exponentially less likely to consent; this was true even at that age. Had he handled it differently and had any knowledge whatsoever about what makes people tick, things could be very different right now, although I’m glad that they aren’t. The universe has a way of making things happen that are eventually supposed to happen. That is the one belief that I hold very dearly. And if it did have anything to do with my mother’s verbal hesitance, then I should thank her for the foresight.
At any rate to make a long story short, when I was watching the episode where Gene Simmons goes through a mock demonstration of what marines in basic training go through…when I observed the supposed monstor of rock acquiese to someone half his age screaming at him for the sake of entertainment, it simply made me glad of some of the choices I made when I was younger.
