One aspect of my life that I’ve yet to share much about on this platform is my time in uniform as a commissioned officer in the United States Marine Corps.
From 2007-2011, I served as a lieutenant – leading Marines as part of the 3rd Battalion of the 2nd Marine Regiment (3/2) stationed in North Carolina. Simply put, joining the ranks of these Marines remains the watershed moment of my personal and professional development.
Growing up in Ohio, one is likely to develop a certain set of midwestern sensibilities. One of those, is that each of us, in our own way, owes a debt of service to our nation. For most, that does not mean joining the military. Service will take many forms, but I would venture to say that we all feel that pressing call to do something in our lives that exists beyond ourselves, something larger, that we are willing to place ahead of our own interest.
Until I was a senior in college, I’d successfully dodged that pressure – but then it hit me like a freight train. Here I was, a year from entering the “real world” and I had absolutely no idea how I wanted to start my career. Then my dad said something profound.
Knowing full well that I wanted to, someday, be involved in political work my dad said something that you can probably hear slipping from the tongue of your own father figure: “if you’re going to serve, you’d better serve first.”
That was pretty stunning advice from my father when our nation was in the midst of what would become its longest war ever. Further, it carried the weight of my father’s own regrets over having not been able to serve during his generation’s conflict. Immediately I knew he was right, but I didn’t know just what I wanted to do.
But, the seed was planted and I ravenously dove into studying the branches and their cultures – and it became clear almost immediately that I wanted a special challenge: to earn the title of Marine. I knew that challenge alone would satisfy the intensifying desire I felt to push myself while also repaying my own debt to our society.
I didn’t know at the time the fully immersive nature of becoming a Marine. It changes you in ways that long outlive your time in uniform. And the most important aspect of that evolution, is that you will always carry with you a pride in the shared history of our beloved Corps.
Today, November 10th, 2020 is the 245th birthday of our Corps. In any other year, we’d gather, both those in uniform and those no longer in service, to raise a glass in honor of that history. We’d share stories from generations past, celebrate our own experiences, and take a moment to remember our fallen. Like so much of 2020, that celebration has become, well, muted.
Wondering how I could still share some of our uniquely Marine esprit de corps, I stumbled onto an idea that I hope you’ll enjoy. Sunday night, I reached out to Marines across my social media network and asked them to join me in a small project: reading the annual birthday message – a message originally written by our 13th Commandant, General John A. LeJeune in 1921. As part of our yearly celebrations, this message is read with great pomp and circumstance. This year, a bunch of us who have worn the uniform are going for a more casual experience.
I hope you’ll enjoy hearing from some of my fellow Devil Dogs in this video. It was a quick project, and my first ever attempt at anything like editing a video. Watch it more than once so you can really listen to the poetic nature of General LeJeune’s message. Whether you’ve carried the mantle of the “few and the proud” or not, I think you’ll experience one aspect of our history that will help you further appreciate those carrying on the Corps’ mission today.
Our birthday is special to us. Coupled with Veterans Day on the 11th, this time of year stands out to Marines. I hope, as you go about your day you’ll take time to think of our Leathernecks across the globe and thank our brothers and sisters from the other branches as well.
With so much that has divided us in recent months, celebrating the service of those who’ve answered that call to serve beyond their own interests may just be the tonic we need to move beyond the rhetoric. Maybe, just maybe, it will also help us start looking forward to what is possible in the days ahead.
Part of the Possible 