2001-09-17 - 3:56 p.m.
A growing certainty ... a resolve?

I might as well change the title of this site from "Land of Smoke and Mirrors" to "Land of Flags and Banners". I can't seem to get myself away from the same topic I've been on all week. I suppose that makes sense ... there's almost nothing else major going on in my life, and it is such a catastrophic event that almost everyone else is still discussing it, too.

I'll mention the one other major event before I get lost in patriotism again: My mother is ill. Well, she has been for a while -- she's had pleurisy in her lungs; severe osteoporosis that led to a broken rib a few weeks back; and numerous other ailments brought on by a childhood of extreme stress, and a hysterectomy in her early twenties. This time, it's some as-yet-undiagnosed ailment of the lower G.I. that's causing bleeding. She has to go through several unpleasant hospital procedures this week, and I'm worried for her again. (Did I ever stop?) My mother is such a fragile person on so many levels. I've already lost three grandparents; none of my aunts or uncles are really on "family" terms with us; our family circle has become pretty tiny. I don't know if the rest of us could handle anything serious happening to my mother.

*sigh* And now, back to my other worries.

I didn't know any of the victims in last Tuesday's attacks. As a matter of fact, I don't even think anyone close to me knew anyone who was a victim. Physically, that makes me rather removed from the catastrophic events. And yet, it's affecting me very strongly. I read Friday's copy of the Oregonian on Saturday morning, when I had the time to get past the front page, and came across an editorial cartoon that made me start to cry again. It showed a row of men lined up in front of the Pearly Gates, wearing firefighter's hats and policemen's badges, and the one in the lead had a radio in his hand. "We've reached the top," he was saying, with an eager look on his face ...

I'm not sure I understand yet what this catastrophe has done to me; I don't think any of us really do. But it has revived old career plans in the back of my mind, that I had thought dead long ago. The last several days I've spent surfing government websites -- the FBI, the CIA, the Air Force, the Navy, and the Army. The one I kept coming back to, though, was the Navy site.

Navy recruiters were after me for years, way back when. I was on the advanced math track in my high school, I was on the 4.0 honor roll, and I was taking all the college prep courses I could; of course the government wanted me. I even scored fairly high (for a woman) on the ASVAB; I'm not sure if military was sent the results of our scores, but if so, that was probably a factor as well. I was still getting brochures to the Naval Academy even after I'd been in college for several semesters.

It was not the right track for me. I'm sure of that. I was barely 17 when I gave my valedictory speech, and still very much a young girl. I think I really needed the 5 years I spent at university to finish the process of growing up. And the year I've had since college has given me a little more perspective on the careers I've always dreamed of (working at NASA, for example) and the likelihood of actually achieving my goals.

It never occured to me, until last week, that I could still join up -- and receive some pretty nice benefits from doing so. When I began surfing sites, mainly looking for news and ways that a poor college student like me could be of help, I kept coming across references to repayment of student loans. The various armed forces will pay $10,000 or so of loan debt for certain categories of incoming prospective officers (college grads don't join the enlisted ranks). There are 13 weeks of OCS (Officer Candidate School) to get through in the Navy -- other forces have similar programs. And then you have some required number of years of service (six, I think). Then your military background serves as an enormous bootstrap into whatever career you happen to dream of joining.

With my degree, and my gender, I'd be shoehorned into the ranks of support personnel. My vision is too poor to be a pilot, and I can't picture myself doing much else in regards to direct combat; I'd be stuck at a terminal. I haven't decided yet whether what I'd gain from joining, would be worth the hassle of a military life, but I do know one thing ... the idea isn't going away. I was turning it over again in my mind this morning, and was reminded of particular scene during a phase of my life I usually try to forget.

Back when I was engaged, more than four years ago, I was chatting with my prospective husband about his view of our future together. He was getting rather animated about the whole thing, and I was mildly annoyed by his assumption that I'd do the stay-at-home wife thing for several years, until whatever children we had were all safely in school. So I decided to throw a few wrenches in the works. I asked him what he'd do if I got a tattoo. He told me he'd disown whatever part of my body I put it on. And then I asked him what he'd do if I joined the Navy.

Of course he rejected that idea utterly, too. At the time, I didn't think much about where it had come from. I think now, though, that it's just never entirely gone away, since the first flood of pamphlets in my mailbox. And now that my conviction about serving my country has gotten stronger in the aftermath of the 9/11/2001 tragedy, it's permanently in the back of my mind.

I don't want to do anything rash. I'd already determined, though, that I would be deciding the course of the next half-decade of my life before Christmas. That's when my current apartment lease runs out, and my committment to my current job will be discharged. So I have a little over three months to ponder.

Will I join the ranks of graduate students? Or will I put on a uniform? Both routes involve more discipline and restriction than I've gotten used to these past several months. But I'm absolutely certain now that I must go one way or the other. (And that very certainty frightens me. Where did it come from?)

God help us, every one.