Dear Laney and Hagen,
And now we arrive at the third and final diploma in the pile on my desk: your dad's certificate from the United States Air Force 505th Training Squadron for being an honor graduate of the Air Operations Command / Combat Plans Division Training Course. It will sound like I am making this up, but your dad went off to war school and came back the valedictorian. In four weeks of classes, quizzes, and tests, he didn't miss a single point. Students from the four main branches of the military were there, and at the honor ceremony, as the Commanding Officer was handing your dad his diploma, he said, "You know, if one of you Air Force guys had earned this, it would be a huge star on your record, and would probably guarantee you a promotion. But instead, we're giving it to a Navy guy, who probably won't even frame the damn thing."
And there it sits on my desk, right on top of a another certificate that reads "Congratulations, Laney, on graduating from Sunflower Montessori's preschool program."
I know it can be difficult to reconcile your dad's exemplary military career with the fact that he's a peace-loving environmental scientist and wannabe socialist who thinks we should ride our bikes everywhere and that it should be illegal for anyone to make over 200k/year, because "no one needs more money than that." But while these things may seem contradictory, they all speak to your dad's overwhelming sense of responsibility: to his planet, to his country, to his family.
When we were dating, your dad told me this story, and it made me cry, as it does every time I think about it now:
When your dad first joined the Navy, he was sent to Officer Candidate School in Pensacola. One hot afternoon, the soon-to-be Naval officers got a brief reprieve from their boot camp exercises in the Florida heat to meet in a classroom. There, an instructor stood in front of the class with a brimming handful of dog tags. He then went around the room, giving one to each of the officer candidates along with a brief biography of the enlisted man whose name was stamped in the metal. It quickly became apparent that each shiny rectangle symbolized a man who had fallen in combat.
The point of the exercise was to poignantly drive home to your dad and each of the other future military officers in the room that they would one day be leading other men into battle..."men who would charge a hill, and die on that hill, because you told them to." Men like the ones whose dog tags your dad and his fellow students were now holding. In that moment, your dad says he became aware that there is no greater responsibility in the world.
On the occasion of Memorial Day, it's only right to think about these men, including Corporal R.E. O'Malley USMC, whose name your dad still carries with him as a visceral reminder of the gravity of his position. They are not forgotten.
And to your dad: congratulations on your achievement. May you continue to pursue a life most honorable, and remain the best role model I could imagine for our children.
Love,
Mom
