We are really settling in to our new community. Del Webb Cane Bay in Summerville SC encourages people to participate in a number of clubs. I am one of the leaders in the Veterans Club and enjoy meeting with so many people who served the country.

We also belong to the Wine Club where we enjoy learning about different types of wines from around the globe. I am a member of the photography club and am finally learning about what some of the buttons and gadgets on my Canon Rebel camera are for. Plus, we are learning new techniques on our smart phones.

I have to admit, I am not as smart as my phone.

My favorite club is the Writer’s Circle. I’ve been struggling a bit lately coming up with new stories for the blog. So, the circle is helping me get some refreshment. After putting together over 1250 stories for the blog since the beginning, I sometimes find myself doing the same story that I did once upon a time. I could credit it to being an older gentleman now. I remember my dad repeating the same stories over and over. And he was younger than I am now when he passed. So, the scary thing for me is that I have completed the transformation to him. Debbie tells me that the transformation began a long time ago, but I just was not aware of it. I guess that is part of the aging process.

But today, we had an assignment from our leader to write about the “word” that has helped develop into who we are today. After thinking about it, my word was Explorer.

This is my story:

Explorer

As a boy, I was fascinated by the many stories that practically leapt from the pages of the books I had at my disposal. The series of nautical books that were written about a fictitious sailor named Horatio Hornblower were some of my favorites. The first book found a seventeen-year-old midshipman starting off on a journey that would take him around the globe in one adventure after another. In the eleven books that followed, the author would write tales of courage and overcoming adversity in a way that made the words literally come to life and stoke the fires of imagination within me. By the time I was old enough to volunteer, I knew that my course was already set.

April 24th, 1972 is the day that I first raised my hand to start my own adventure. I was just seventeen.

Like most kids, I was cocky, self-centered, in too much of a hurry to be grown up and not as disciplined as I should have been. But everything began to change on that day. Up until that point, my recruiter had been the face of the Navy. He was a Senior Chief Machinist Mate named James Dotson, and he was the head recruiter at the McKeesport Pennsylvania office. He was not an aggressive recruiter. In my case, no aggression was needed. He promised me three things. If I worked hard, I would gain knowledge and experience enough to last a lifetime. I would obtain a world class education and see the world. That was more than enough to capture my attention. Finally, if I applied myself, I could rise as far up the chain as I desired. The only thing that would limit me was myself.

I actually signed the initial paperwork on April 19th with Mom and Dad having to sign as well. The rule was that seventeen-year-olds required both parent’s signatures. Mom made me promise not to get a tattoo. (I never did.) The official swearing in occurred a few days later in Pittsburgh at the MEPS station in the Federal Building. That was my first exposure to standing in line at attention. It was also a chance to figure out that this was definitely different than hanging out with my friends. Even though it was the screening phase, I sensed that a higher level of discipline was coming. My Dad had been in the Navy in World War 2 so he told me the day before about not being so mouthy or they would let me know “what was what” in a hurry.

After a full day of testing and examinations to determine that I had all of the correct parts for a boy wanting to join the illustrious United States Navy, they herded us all into a room with 1960’s paneling, an American and a Navy Flag placed next to a rostrum. There was only one other door besides the one we entered. Mom and Dad entered through that door along with a few other parents and girlfriends. We all lined up at the “X” marks on the floor facing the front and stood at what passed for attention until the officer came in. I do not remember the short speech he made but it had something to do with repeating the oath and understanding what it would mean for the journey we were about to begin. I also vaguely remember him saying that it was something we should do with no reservations. I looked over at my mom and she had a handkerchief in her hand to wipe away the wetness from her eyes.

He asked us to raise our right arms. A voice inside was telling me that this was a bigger deal than it seemed a few days before when I signed the first paperwork. That day, April 19, was my dad’s birthday. He had been in boot camp for his eighteenth birthday. While we had a contentious relationship as I was growing up, I secretly wanted to be just like him.

The Oath: “Repeat after me”

“I, __________, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

You could have heard a pin drop as the gravity of those words settled into our hearts.

Over the next twenty plus years, I would travel to many far-flung places on the submarines I called home. It was grander than what I had dreamed about as a boy. Even after I retired from the navy, my work allowed me to continue to travel and seek more adventures. I keep a record of those travels in an atlas that someone gave me as a gift one Christmas. The list is too long for one story but includes London, Paris, Stockholm, Tokyo, Bangkok, Manila, Edinboro and on and on. The sights and sounds and flavors and smells come back to me sometimes in my dreams.

The world has turned many times in the past fifty-three years. I move slower now than I once did but, in my heart, I am still an explorer. Along the way, everything Senior Chief Dotson had told me came true. Especially the last part. The only thing that ultimately limited me was when I limited myself. There were a few failures along the way, but when they happened, I heard his words and found a way to overcome the things that did not go as planned. After all, that is what Horatio Hornblower would have done.

Borrowing from the review of the eleventh volume:

“With intrepid daring and brilliant strategies, Hornblower wins his victories. With this series of adventures, Volume 11, Hornblower’s professional life as a British naval officer reaches its climax, not in a battle against men, but against nature. Here the inner Hornblower shows his colors.”

I would like my epitaph to read that well.