The night before I was due to leave for bootcamp, my parents announced that they were going to take me to breakfast before they drove me to the airport. This was so unlike my parents that it really put me off. They had never been super supportive. For example, in 1962 the University of Oregon had invited me to Eugene, Oregon about a possible swimming scholarship. The university had arranged a round trip plane ticket on United Airlines. I remembered getting dropped off at the curb at the airport by my Mom on Friday and picked up Sunday night. That was about it. It was a big deal for me, being part of a group of elite swimmers for a possible scholarship. In fact, I flew up to Oregon with Bob Plate one of the best and fastest butterfliers in America. But that is a different story and a different time. My father’s only comment was something like “well, you’re not going to become a professional swimmer,” and that was about it.

So, it was a little unsettling when my father was all pumped up about taking me to breakfast. Next morning, the three of us drove to Sambo’s pancake house on El Camino Real, a few miles from our home. As we were settling into a booth, I saw Bill Schwartzman. I had not seen Bill since swimming ended my last semester at San Mateo Junior College. Bill was the anchor on our four by 100 yard freestyle relay. Because we had the fastest junior college 4 x 100 free relay in the country, all four of us made All American. Fred Donnell led off, then Ned Speaker swam second, I swam third, and Bill, our fastest sprinter brought it home. We all got gold medals at those junior college national championships.

Bill was a hell of a guy. I told him I was here with my parents and was heading for Marine Corps bootcamp. I introduced Bill to my parents. He shook hands with my father. I had rarely seen my father so outgoing. Bill and I shared a few more remarks then Bill gave me a big hug, looked me square in the eye and said “Give’m hell, big guy. Too bad you don’t have me swimming anchor for you. We’d make a hell of a team.”

I ordered steak and eggs which was one of my favorite meals and a special treat. We could rarely afford to eat out. Being Sambo’s, the meal came with 3 pancakes. Steak and eggs and pancakes. My Dad got the same thing.

While we waited for our food to arrive, my Dad recalled when he entered the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School in Quantico, Virginia during the Second World War. He reminded us that Tyrone Power, the big movie star, was in his class. “He was down to earth,” my Dad said. “No pretensions. He was a good Marine and we all graduated together.” This was unusual as my Dad rarely shared anything about his World War Two experiences. I guess me about to become one of the brotherhood gave me a new level of access to my Dad’s life.

The steak and eggs were delicious. The 3 buttermilk pancakes smothered in butter and syrup provided the perfect ending. We finished our coffee and headed for our car.

Dad drove us to the airport in our 1962 Chevy station wagon. I sat up front with Dad. It reminded me of driving to Yosemite National Park for our camping trip to Ireland Lake. I was 14. It was an 11-mile one way hike up to Ireland Lake at 11,500 feet. Dad was in better shape back then but it still took us 2 days to get there. When I was 17 after my senior year of swimming, Mike Smith, my best friend on the swimming team and me, hiked it in one day and it was easy.

When we got to San Francisco International airport, Dad dropped me and Mom off at the United Airlines terminal and went to park the car. Then we all went in. I checked in and got my boarding pass. Then we all went to my gate.

They were not boarding yet so we watched the planes come and go. Mom was getting teary. Dad was a little more subdued. When they started boarding, Mom gave me her typical dry peck on the cheek at such occasions. Dad gave my hand a vigorous shake. After the flight attendant tore off the stub of my boarding pass and I started down the ramp, I turned and waved to my parents. They waved back. They looked small and old. I suddenly felt sad. I realized this was the beginning of a big adventure for me. It was also the end of something. I would never be their little boy again.

I found my seat and sat down. I looked around. I did not know a single person on that plane. I was in a crowd of complete strangers. I was about to spend the next 6 months of my life with a bunch of total strangers starting with my first day of bootcamp which was about to start in a few hours. This was sort of like my trip to the University of Oregon in Eugene to see what the swimming coach had to offer. This time the bargaining was already over. I had signed the contract. I had taken the oath. Now my Fate was in the hands of Marine Corps drill instructors. And they had very definite plans for the next 13 weeks of my life. They were ready for me. The big question: was I ready for Marine Corps Drill Instructors?

Keep an eye out. We have a special-special coming up that you won’t want to miss.

Till then, I wish you and your family the very best of health.
    
Joe