Liberty Call

When I was in the U.S. Navy, I loved “liberty.” Leave was awesome, but it was a fixed amount and when you used it up it was gone, but liberty was a renewable resource.

For those who don’t know, “liberty” was time off—duty free time—and was generally granted when:

1. Your unit was in a place that accommodated off-duty activities (whether in port or on base)
2. Your daily work was done
3. You were not assigned “watch” or other supervisory duties during the liberty period

Those who have never served in the military may not appreciate the significance of liberty (I think other branches may have called it “on a pass”)—you are accustomed to having a work schedule, and your employer has no claim on you outside that schedule, certainly no authority to control your movements when not working—but for service members, the military absolutely has the right to control your movements. Even when off duty, I had no inherent right to leave my ship unless I’d been granted liberty by Command.

Perhaps you can see, then, why I loved liberty call.

Liberty call meant that I had no duties whatsoever until liberty ended. I could go out and get drunk (I often did—this was before I got sober and long before I got happy), I could stay up all night, I could shop or gorge or do any legal thing (legal according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, admittedly a higher standard than civil law). It was freedom, for a night or a weekend, in San Diego or Singapore or Perth or Subic Bay, P.I.

You might be wondering why I’m dredging up all this admttedly-ancient history, and who would blame you? Five paragraphs and I still haven’t got to the point! Bear with me—it’s all relevant.

A couple of days ago, I read a post that made me think of…“elements”…I would like to be part of my life, but aren’t. Not so long ago, thinking about what I crave but lack would evoke feelings of bitterness and resentment and grief, but my practice has helped me grow beyond those reactions, and my reaction on this most recent occasion was very much like what I used to feel at liberty call. I realized that if those elements were part of my life, they would impose duties, as well, and while I would joyfully accept those duties (I would love to perform those duties in that service), I could also rejoice in not having them right now.

It was…“liberating”…to feel that way—to know that because those elements are not part of my life right now, I have greater “freedom” than I would if they were—even though I would trade that liberty for the sake of those elements without a qualm.

It’s another manifestation of “It’s all good,” and I’m happy to discover how far I’ve come in about a year.

I’m happy, full stop.

I’m happy!

Last Days

It's Memorial Day. My last Memorial Day on the Mainland.

Memorial Day is important to me. My military service was in peacetime so none of those I served with paid the ultimate price that Memorial Day honors, but members of my family have, and since my service I have known a few who likewise have paid with their most precious treasure; their lives.

From the time I was a Cub Scout, however, I have been awed and humbled by the stories of the heroes for whom this day, once called Decoration Day (because it was a day when the graves of our honored war dead were bedecked in remembrance of their sacrifice), is celebrated. My family has a military tradition, and I was raised to respect our military and to always be mindful of the sacrifices on which our liberties were founded. That's one family tradition I never rebelled against.

(I fear that those liberties have been so far eroded as to make a mockery of those noble sacrifices, but that's the subject of another blog.)

Memorial Day (honoring those who have died in defense of our nation and its ideals) and Veterans Day (honoring all who have served, and not just those who died under arms) were and are two holidays that for me have never been simply a day off or a day for a special sporting event; rather they are true Holy Days, to be observed with ceremony and solemn contemplation, whether publicly or privately. I don't object to family barbecues or sporting events on these days, but for me, the days are first and foremost about those who served.

And today is my last Memorial Day on the Mainland.

Since deciding and committing to going, I find myself hyper-aware of the importance of "lasts," at least to me. Yesterday was my last day sharing ministry with the Burbank congregation of the Community of Christ. Friday was my last day as a teacher in the Antelope Valley Union High School District. Last Sunday was my last performance as an actor in Antelope Valley community theatre. All these things are things that matter to me—things I love—and knowing they are "lasts" is...well, it's sad.

It's also sad that I didn't know the significance of the "lasts" that came before my decision to go: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Veterans Day...

I am not sad to be going. I am excited to be going; my heart lifts in anticipation of what is to come on this new adventure.

I am sad to be leaving; leaving friends and family, leaving the place that's been my home for most of the last 44 years, leaving a job I once loved...

It's my last Memorial Day on the Mainland. I will spend some time in personal reflection on the sacrifices made by service members (including military service animals who so-faithfully have served their human fellows in conflict), then I will exert myself in preparation for going. I have a lot to do.

As I work, I will remember. You remember, too.