November is designated as Military Family Month. I’m still figuring out what that means, but I am getting a taste of what it feels like.
My son’s first semester in the Reserved Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC) has been…well…tiring. To earn his two college credits it requires him to go to class two days a week. That makes sense. Two hours. Two credits. Until you add on the rest of his week. For his two credits he is also required to attend physical training (PT) on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday mornings at 5:30 a.m. This requires him rising at 4 a.m. to get ready and requires me rising at 4:30 a.m. to drive him to the light rail station in the Cranberry Crush. (I’m getting more and more motivated to help him buy a car, but for now it is me and the Crush.) Although I am tired from this early morning commute, from what I hear of PT, I can’t complain. He informs me that he hasn’t been to a PT session yet where there hasn’t been a least one cadet who has thrown up from the intense workout.
And if that isn’t enough, he has required labs on Fridays and Saturdays, lasting 4 to 10 hours, also beginning no later than 5 a.m. At these labs he has done a great variety of activities from walking off a high dive blindfolded in full combat gear, crawling through mud to escape a dark building, being a security guard at the GOP debate, cleaning football stadiums, setting up barriers for parades in the middle of the night, and rappelling down walls.
My house is also now covered in camouflage. Funny how it is so easy to see. I find it trailing up the stairs and where it stops, I find a sleeping man where a boy once was.
Military families, I salute you. Thanks for giving your time to take care of our soldiers. You’ve all given your lives to service and, so far, we’ve only given two credits.