In November 1990, I was a month away from my 19th birthday. I had graduated from high school five months earlier. I was working part time at the pizza joint. I was trying (unsuccessfully) to take ONE class at the local community college. I was spending all my free time partying with my friends and surfing in Santa Cruz. I was mostly staying up all night and sleeping past noon. I was restless and directionless.
Also during this time, Saddam Hussein had invaded a little Persian Gulf country called Kuwait. The US was officially at war with Iraq. And my friends were joining the various branches of the military.
My buddy Brian talked me into going down to the US Navy recruiting station. And the sailors down there told me all their best stories of travelling and seeing the world.
I was sold. I signed up. I spent the entire day at the recruiting station. That night I came home to my unhappy parents.
“Where have you been?” my father asked, angry that I’d been gone all day and didn’t tell anyone where I was.
“Mom…Dad…I just joined the Navy…and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I went to my room with a smug smile on my face, thinking about all the freedom I’d have once I was out of my parent’s house. Later I found out that my parents spent the entire night, awake in bed, unable to sleep, worrying about their son about to go to war.
I went to boot camp weeks later.
Well, today is Veterans Day. And I am a veteran of the first Persian Gulf War of 1990-1991.
So happy Veterans Day to me.