Haze Grey and Underway

It has been some three-and-a-half months since I have seen Watertown, the only place that has ever really been “home” to me. It has been three-and-a-half months of exciting new experiences, to be sure, but it has also felt like three-and-a-half months without a heart, because I think I left mine behind.

In the middle of June, I left home to head to Great Lakes, Illinois, where I went through boot camp and became a sailor in the United States Navy. Not long before I left, I happened to be speaking with Charlie Breitrose (he was reporting on, and I celebrating, John Lawn's electoral victory in the race to fill the State Representative seat vacated by now-Sheriff Koutoujian), who asked if I'd be interested in blogging here on the Watertown Patch about my experiences. The idea immediately excited me — as excited as I was about all that was about to happen, I could not say I was happy to be leaving Watertown. This seemed a perfect way for me to remain connected with my hometown.

Three months later, I'm finally getting the time to follow through.

I endured two months of boot camp at Recruit Training Command (RTC — which was not nearly as difficult as you might think — it's really like a big game of 'Simon Says.' As long as you can follow basic instructions, you're fine). I say “endured,” but really, it was a good time. I was in a performance division — we were a State Flags div — at the graduation ceremonies, our division showcased the 50 state flags, and also provided the Color Guard and the cadence drumline (I was lead drummer, thanks to my 17 years of percussion experience, which began in the Watertown Public School system).

After I graduated, while I waited for my transfer orders, I spent three weeks in Temporary Hold Unit (THU), still at RTC. That was really strange. Recruit Division Commanders (RDCs) — if you haven't caught on yet, the U.S. Navy (USN) is very fond of three-letter acronyms (TLAs) — started actually talking to me like an actual human being, not like a subhuman recruit. That took some getting used to.

The other thing that struck me as odd, and I doubt I'll ever get used to, was being thanked by everyone and their mother whenever I went off base on liberty. Complete strangers would come up and just say “thank you,” as though I'd actually done anything. Don't get me wrong, service in the defense of our country ought to be recognized and appreciated, but the only thing I've defended anyone from so far is dirt on the deck. The only weapon I've used in the war against the dreaded dust-bunny is a push-broom. The most serious threat I've actually faced is the threat that my boots might get a bit scuffed in the line of duty. Hardly gratitude-worthy. I haven't seen a friend fall in battle. I haven't eaten an IED blast. I haven't been involved in a major mishap on a flight deck, or fallen overboard into ocean waters. I guess it still feels like I haven't earned anyone's “thanks” yet.

Of course, their taxes pay my salary. I guess, “thanks,” is better than, “I'm paying you how much to sweep decks?!?” So, I won't complain.

I finally got my orders to transfer, so, here I am now, on the Pacific Coast, in Monterey, California, where I'll be starting class in November — I'll be learning Mandarin Chinese for a year and a half before going out into the fleet to start doing my actual job — earning some thanks, I guess.

It's kind of a culture shock out here. We have deer everywhere on this base — and they're not like East Coast deer, which will take off sprinting away as soon as they see a human being. These deer just don't care. They'll actually stand at the edge of our track, as we're running our physical readiness tests (PRTs). I actually came within two feet of a wild buck, while running an 11-minute mile and a half, and the buck just stood there and watched, completely unspooked by how close I got to running right into him.

Maybe I was actually the lucky one in that encounter.

It's really nice out here. I have so much to do during the day, but for once, time actually seems to wait for me to catch up. Nothing's rushed here, and there's a lot less stress — though trying to keep up with the Sox will certainly take the stress level up quite a bit.

Wonderful as it is to get to live out here, though, it's not home. I still long to head down to the Watertown Lodge of Elks some nights, or to stop in to the Verona Restaurant to say hi to my old boss and have a bite to eat. I just missed the Faire on the Square for the very first time since the Faire began. I won't be around in the coming months to help friends get elected or re-elected to the Council, or to consider a run of my own, as I had two years ago. On election day, you won't find me at my post outside the Phillips School, faithfully holding campaign signs for the candidates I'm supporting (and for whom I'm putting in all the volunteer time I can). And I'm no longer around to be a part of the Watertown Democratic Committee. For the first time, I won't be around to perform with the Saint Patrick's Family Players in their Broadway Musical Revue, or in Resurrection, when their 2012 season begins in the spring.

Worst of all, though, instead of being just a few blocks away from the girl who means more than anything to me, I'm on the complete opposite side of the country. It's a painful irony that the longest-distance relationship I've ever been in is with a girl from my own hometown. Lucky for me, though, she's soon to be visiting me out here. And frankly, the weather here is better than it is over there, from what I'm told lately. Sorry.

I'm going to finish this post up for tonight. I'll write again, to be sure, but I need to stop focusing on home before my craving for East Side Wings gets any worse!