As The Rooster Crows

Home » Posts tagged 'Parris Island'

Tag Archives: Parris Island

Follow As The Rooster Crows on WordPress.com

You don’t live here anymore

A Story That Triggered Life Changes by the Rooster.
Circa 1983 while a student at New Hampshire College.
(Present day Southern New Hampshire University)

Homeless


I have lived in a 50/50 relationship with my wife for fifty-nine years, there is little we don’t share. When reading over this assignment, my wife was the one who provided the electricity for the lightbulb. “Remember when you came back from Connecticut one year and your family had moved and no one told you?” Wow, did she clear out some cobwebs and get the memory going.

I was sixteen years old, it was 1959, and I had just spent my yearly summer in Connecticut with my father and his family. Since age ten I would be put on a bus or train during long holidays from school. I would spend Christmas Day in New Jersey and be gone the next morning and not return until school started again. This would happen during the spring and Easter vacations as well.

I would spend the summer of 1959 working in Shade Tobacco fields. Tobacco Valley in New England ran adjacent to the Connecticut River from Portland, CT up to Brattleboro, VT. Many kids over the age of fourteen earned money for school clothes then by working the Tobacco fields. That was one long hot summer that I can still vividly remember.

The school year before that summer, we had spent living with my maternal grandmother. We had returned to the old hometown from a short stint in Wildwood, NJ. My mother and grandmother were not two people who should have tried living together. My stepfather and two half-sisters also resided there. It was chaos the entire year, I was ten years older than the half-sisters. I was relegated to living in an unheated attic which I didn’t like and did not have a great relationship with my stepfather.

Apparently, there was some kind of Brew Ha-Ha amongst Granny, her daughter, and the stepfather during that summer. I would never learn the particulars of what went on and only knew that it was not pretty. Some time mid-summer my mother and family bought a home thirty miles away. I was not told of this, and when summer ended, and school was about to start I returned from Connecticut to my grandmother’s house. My mother and her mother would remain estranged for many years. I thought I would quickly be welcomed back by my grandmother. She played a significant part in my life growing up to that point.

On that day I returned, I would knock on the door and be greeted with hostility by my grandmother. I was not invited in, I was told the (others) had moved, and she had no idea where, and much less, did not care. Go stay with your Aunt and Uncle I was told. Dragging my suitcase, I walked the half mile to my favorite aunt’s. This aunt was my father’s sister-in-law, and I was welcomed with open arms. I was told my Uncle would find out where my mother moved to the next day.

My Uncle and my stepfather’s father were members of the Masonic Lodge together. Through that relationship, my Uncle contacted him and got the address of their new residence. Two days later my Uncle would take me to their home. There was no warm and fuzzy reunification. Something on the order of “Oh, you’re back” was my greeting. During my last three years of school, I never felt like part of the whole family from that point on. My mother always had night jobs, usually three to eleven. I avoided the stepfather whenever I could.

I would work at several jobs, never not employed, attend high school, play football, run track, and return to CT for those holidays and summers just as before. I had gained my independence, I had a new vision, a new outlook, and I could only wonder where it would take me. I just wanted out. My idea was the United States Marine Corps, and it would take me to Parris Island, SC during the summer of sixty-two, just two weeks after high school graduation. Now I can only look with anticipation at where this class will take for me sixty-six years later.

I should have mentioned the Sand Fleas of Parris Island. I will save them for future writing. One Sand Flea could generate an entire story, should that creature be swatted by a recruit at Parris Island.

Thanks for taking the time to read this and following the Rooster.

Chuck IT!

As I’ve mentioned previously, Jack Limpert’s Blog, “About Editing and Writing” is a blog I follow and read religiously. After reading the below I said to me self, “Yep, that be me.”

Back in Junior High, I was told by my mother and stepfather, you must take a Language. French, Latin, and Spanish were the options, I chose Spanish. I was no ball of fire academically back in those days. Actually, it lasted for a few years. It’s only for my desire to play football that I made it through high school and a diploma prior to beginning my formal education in Parris Island, SC.

While in High School I once again was told I had to take a Language and it would be Latin. You got it, didn’t pass that course. A bit of a rebel I was back then. After several tries at ninth (9) grade I was a tenth grader (10) and once again took Spanish. I think the teacher liked football players, and somehow I passed.

After the Marine Corps, I spent a few years as a professional Firefighter. I would find myself at one point, a member of the Special Services/Community Relations arm of the Dept. Sent me they did to a Spanish Speaking class. I got a certificate of completion and actually learned a lot of relevant stuff, ie: Consígueme una escalera, quite useful when one does not want to jump.

I would also, during my career as a State Trooper learn a bit of street Spanish here and there. By the time of my retirement I had been using Spanish for nie on to thirty plus years.

Today, my greatest use of the language is when I tell the young lads who mow our lawn –

“Cómprense unas cervezas después del trabajo.” I’m done with Spanish classes, lets have a cold one.

Why You Should Swap Your Bucket List For a Chuck-It List

September 4, 2023

From a Washington Post column by Valerie Tiberius headlined “Why you should swap your bucket list for a chuck-it list”:

On my father’s 75th birthday, he announced some news: He no longer intended to learn Spanish. He told me that, for most of his life, he imagined he would one day speak the language fluently, but this year, at this new age and vantage point, he was giving up that goal.

He seemed a little melancholy about it but mostly relieved that he no longer had this piñata of shame hanging over his head.

Best of all, he adopted a mental heuristic for this goal-no-longer that I believe has liberating potential for everyone: Learning Spanish, he told me, was now an item on his “chuck-it list.”

Bucket lists can be a fun, inspirational tool — they encourage us to chase new experiences, such as learning chess or going on an African safari. But let’s face it: They can also be oppressive, irritating reminders that you can’t afford that $3,000 flight to Johannesburg.

As a philosopher of well-being, I can tell you that philosophers tend to divide into three camps on the subject: hedonists, who think well-being is all about good feelings; objectivists, who believe we live well when we achieve things with value transcending the individual; and desire satisfactionists, who think well-being means fulfilling your own goals.

I am in the third camp. I like that this approach respects individual differences and explains why there are so many different good lives. But it also has a serious flaw: Focusing on pursuing our goals often leaves us running on a treadmill of desire and frustration.

The solution to this problem lies in choosing which goals to pursue. The mere pursuit of a goal won’t promote your well-being — you have to be selective. This is where the chuck-it list comes into play.

Are you the kind of person who is going to be on your deathbed regretting that you missed your chance to ride in a hot-air balloon, like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz”? Then do it! But when I really thought about that long-held fantasy, I let it go pretty easily, along with parasailing and completing a “century” (a 100-mile bike ride). I felt liberated when I moved these activities to my chuck-it list. It freed me to think about what I actually want to do — which is, turns out, shorter bike rides and flying only in the safety of a commercial airplane.

Of course, building the chuck-it list can be difficult. In his book “Four Thousand Weeks,” Oliver Burkeman reminds us of the old time-management trick of thinking of your goals as rocks that you have to fit into the glass jar of your life. The advice is to put in the big rocks (important goals) first because otherwise you’ll fill your jar with little, unimportant pebbles and won’t be able to fit in the big ones later.

Burkeman dislikes this advice: He points out that the metaphor presupposes that we can squeeze in all the big rocks if we start with them, which might not be true. I agree. Sometimes, it’s a big rock that we have to move to the chuck-it list.

Discarding goals that we really care about is difficult; failing to complete them can elicit sadness or regret. For my father, the relief of letting go of speaking fluent Spanish came tinged with sadness because he saw learning a foreign language as valuable. When you move things to your chuck-it list because you can’t physically do them anymore (e.g., a marathon), there’s also likely to be a layer of disappointment about aging and the reminder of mortality.

The same can be said about goals on a bucket list made impossible by financial constraints or time limitations: They force us to come to terms with circumstances beyond our control.

So what should we do about these negative feelings?

My neighbor, a retired pianist and choir director, told me she took learning certain difficult musical compositions off her bucket list. She described the resulting feeling as “sweet loss” — sweet because she can still listen to those beloved pieces, loss because she’s not going to be the one playing them.

Accepting this wisdom requires a shift in perspective. Bucket lists tie the value of our dreams to our value as individuals. Once we cut that tie, we can still appreciate the value of our abandoned goals by finding pleasure in the achievements of others.

Shifting away from a self-centered perspective can help giving up goals feel a bit less bitter. And really, what is the alternative? Keep everything on your bucket list and try to stuff all the rocks into the jar? This inevitably leads to disappointment and frustration. It might also lead to missing out on enjoying what wasn’t on your bucket list — things brought to you by serendipity that you couldn’t plan for, or things you’ve been taking for granted.

This is why I believe your chuck-it list is just as important as your bucket list. As you age, you grow into a different person with new priorities; your goals should evolve, too. Give yourself permission to remove those items you’ll probably never get to. And most important: Don’t feel bad about it.

Valerie Tiberius is a professor of philosophy at the University of Minnesota and the author of “What Do You Want Out of Life? A Philosophical Guide to Figuring Out What Matters.”

November 10, 2022

A Birthday

Yes today is my birthday, along with every other present and past United States Marine. No matter where we born, Parris Island, SC, San Diego CA or Quantico, VA. When you get that Eagle Globe and Anchor, your life as a Marine has begun. I feel I’m looking pretty good for a man of 247 years.

Here is the Commandant’s message for this the 247 Birthday of the Marine Corps. Should you be interested in learning a little more, take a few minutes and watch the accompanying video.

The US Marine Corps started as the Continental Marines on November 10, 1775. On that date, the Second Continental Congress decided that they needed 2 battalions of Marines to serve as landing forces with the Continental Navy during the American Revolutionary War (1775–1783).

(Photo from : https://weaponsandwarfare.com/about/

After the war, the Continental Navy was dismantled, and as a consequence the Marines as well. However, after increasing conflict with revolutionary France, the Marine Corps was formally re-established.

Trainning

If you live east of the Mississippi river, your boot camp training will be located at Parris Island, SC. Now there is a special place that brings back many memories from every Marine who has gone through that training.

Parris Island has a long history of colonization. Many attempts were made at permanent settlement between 1526 and 1722. The first successful attempt was made by the French in 1562, followed by the Spanish and finally the British. After the Revolutionary War, Parris Island plantations began to grow cotton instead of indigo. During the Civil War, the island became a coaling station for the Union Navy.

Nov. 2, 1861 – The first Marines in the area of Parris Island sailed into Port Royal Harbor, S.C., as members of detachments aboard various ships with the Atlantic Blockading Squadron. Commanding officer, Navy Capt. Samuel F. Du Pont, seized the area and it was used as an important base for the Union Navy throughout the Civil War.

Aug. 7, 1882 – An act of Congress authorized the establishment and construction of a coaling dock and naval storehouse at Port Royal Harbor. A select group of naval officers chose Parris Island as the site.

Yamassee

In early July of 1962 this writer arrived at Parris Island via Yamassee, SC.

Although Parris Island’s first recruits arrived on the USS Prairie in October 1915, the Marines developed that same year a train station at Yemassee, S.C., which was the depot’s initial receiving point for the central and eastern recruiting stations. The town then had a bank, a general store, a few houses and “an abundancy of South Carolina pine.” A hotel was also there in 1915, and the Marines praised its ballroom and the gracious hospitality of the townspeople, especially its pretty girls. Recruits arriving at Yemassee on the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad would be transferred to the Charleston & Western Railroad, which ran to Port Royal. Once there, the World War I recruits would be placed on everything from side wheel ferryboats, barges, long boats or a kicker (a small motor boat) for the trip to Parris Island. Today, most all recruits are flown to this great advenure and will land in Charleston, SC.

I along with a host of new recruits from more northern states would board a train at 30th street station in Philadelphia, PA and head south to 13 weeks of summer camp. Should wish to learn more of this summer adventure check out https://www.mcrdpi.marines.mil/Centennial-Celebration/Historical-information/8-Yemassee-SC/

Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego

Today this Recruit Depot provides its nation’s Corps with basically trained Marines to fight in the current conflicts in both Iraq and Afghanistan. The depot has the responsibility to train all male recruits who reside west of the Mississippi River to serve at the call of the nation. Some history should you be interested. https://www.mcrdsd.marines.mil/About/Depot-History/

Officer Candidates School

The mission of Officer Candidates School (OCS) is to educate and train officer candidates in Marine Corps knowledge and skills within a controlled and challenging environment in order to evaluate and screen individuals for the leadership, moral, mental, and physical qualities required for commissioning as a Marine Corps officer.