Paper sergeant? Good morning.

When I took my oath a few weeks ago, I had planned on announcing it here straightaway, with the usual attempts at comedy. But I held back for a few reasons that at the time were unclear to me.

First off, this is serious, life-changing business for me, my wife, my kid, and both our families. Kicking it off with a few jokes was inappropriate.

Second, after telling a few people, it was apparent I’d have to get used to the bug-eyed reactions of people suddenly forced to manually drive their thought processes forward.

“He’s joining the Army? But he’s 37? ... 37 is old ... Isn’t there some kind of restriction or law or ... he’s 37? ... Fat?”

And when you get enough reactions from people telling you how various parts of their anatomy – mouth, seat, etc. – have hit the floor, you feel almost guilty for getting that kind of rise out of them.

(With apologies to friends who told me something on their person had hit the floor, which would be pretty much all of you. It’s a normal reaction. And thanks to Charokee, Alicia and John for the letters.)

Still, over time, not talking about it becomes worse than talking about it, so here it is:

Around May, when my attempt to join the educational workforce of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex was crashing into a brick wall, I started to really look into exactly what my options were:

• I could spend a school year twiddling my thumbs, hoping that next year something might open up and I’d be able to win out over the same pool of experienced, better-trained teachers who were unable to find work this year.
• I could go back to college and spend three-four years earning another degree. Although this would force my wife to hold off on her plans of getting another degree.
• I could try something that I always wanted to do: the Army. I’ll say the pay’s good, and sometimes really good. The benefits are outstanding. And after getting through training, I’ll be in the best shape of my life and have more opportunity to advance than I’ve had in a long, long time.

As to the why -- I've always been a God and Country kind of person. I don't talk about it much, but I've always had a tremendous amount of respect for what the Army does. Part of me has always wanted to be involved.

I’ve included a list of most of the questions I’ve been getting.


You’ll be doing what?
I’ve joined as an officer candidate. I’ll be a second lieutenant at the end of training. I don’t plan on being a combat specialist, just on supplying the fighting regiments or telling them where to shoot.

You’re too old and fat.
(No one’s said that, but I know what they’re thinking.) The Army recently raised its enlistment age maximum to 40. My profile picture on Facebook was 30 pounds ago. I keep that doughboy’s face up there for motivation. Fitness-wise, I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m getting there.

How have people reacted?
Generally there’s shock. Some come back after a bit to tell me congratulations or good luck, some don’t.

When?
I ship to basic in mid-November. I’ll be done with that in February, and will have a few weeks off before Officer Candidate School starts in March. That’ll be done in May, followed by another school that’ll teach me how to operate in whatever branch of the Army I will serve in. That’ll take a few more months. So, around this time next year, your tax money will finally start paying me to work in a job as opposed to teaching me how to work in that job.


How’s the wife?
Up days and down days. She sees the logic of the decision, does her best to support me as I get ready. Worries about running the house all by herself, worries about losing me for a year, and worries about me getting shot. I told her when I made the decision that this was going to be a lot harder on her than it ever is on me. I’m still sure that I’m right about that.

We're both really thankful for our parents, who have volunteered to help with the daycare duties until I'm done with training. That's a HUGE help.

Won’t the boy miss you?
I guess. I don’t know -- the boy isn’t two yet -- and the whole time I’m gone, he’ll be surrounded by family. The real question is “Won’t you miss the boy?” I’ve been a stay-at-home dad now for 20 months. I like the kid. I can only guess at what kind of emotional panic I’ll be experiencing when it’s time to leave.

Do you REALLY want to do this?
Yeah. What? You never did?