MediocreMan

Remembering Your Drill Instructor · 19 October 2024

Marines say that you remember your Drill Instructor (DI) all your life. I am not a U.S. Marine, but I will always remember my DI, Staff Sergeant Rosario.

(I need to insert a short explanation here before I go any further. I know that there are female Drill Instructors. I often write ‘his or her’ instead of just ‘his.’ Or sometimes I trade pronouns in different paragraphs. I thought about doing one of those two things in this blog post, but decided that this particular blog post flows better just using pronouns of one gender. And it also works better for me in this case because I had a male DI. So I hope that no female DIs take my use of male pronouns as a sleight. You have my utmost respect. Because you are a Drill Instructor. Because you are a U.S. Marine.)

I recently wrote about the United States Marine Corps (USMC) Educator’s Workshop. I wrote a little about the thrill of getting to shoot and rappel and do a combat fitness test. I even wrote a little about our Drill Instructor. But not enough.

U.S. Marine recruits get to know their Drill Instructors over the course of 13 weeks. The DIs are with the recruits all day every day during that time. The DIs tell them how to do what they need to do to become U.S. Marines. More importantly, they show them what a Marine is and how to become one.

The first exposure that a recruit has to his or her DI is certainly a rude awakening. Literally. They are all at some facility when they get awoken by DIs barking orders and getting them ready to move to the depot where they will eat and sleep and work on becoming Marines. They will hear those DIs telling them that they are to reply, “Aye aye, sir!” or “Aye aye, ma’am!” to everything. And they are to reply at the top of their lungs. There is no half way. There is only one way. Full throttle and full volume. And if the recruits do not do things right the first time, they will do it again and again and again until they do.

At the educator’s workshop, we got a small taste of this. We had a nice breakfast the first morning. Then, we were just milling around talking to one another outside the restaurant. We educators were from different schools and different cities, and we wanted to get to know one another. After all, the only people we knew so far were our roommates and maybe people we saw at the airport or in the hotel. That was when it happened.

“Line up!”
We lined up. And off we went.

Okay. That was not exactly how it went. The first interactions we had with our DIs went something like this:

“Line up!”
We tried to get in lines while the Drill Instructor yelled.
”You will respond with ‘Aye aye, sir!’”
A few people responded, “Aye aye, sir.”
“You will do so at the top of your voice!”
More people responded, “Aye aye, sir.”
“It’s okay to yell!”
Everybody finally caught on. “Aye aye, sir!”
“It’s okay to respond!”
“Aye aye, sir!”
“When I say, ‘Eyeballs’ you turn and look at me and say, ‘Click, sir!’ Eyeballs!”
“Click, sir!”
“Eyeballs!”
“Click, sir!”
“When I say, ‘Ears’ you say, ‘Open, sir!’ Ears!”
“Open, sir!”
“Ears!”
“Open, sir!”
“When I countdown and say, ‘Zero’ you say, “Freeze, sir!”
“Zero!”
“Freeze, sir!”
“Zero!”
“Freeze, sir!”

It was a crash course in call and response. It was almost poetic. At least it would have been had it not been at the top of our lungs. Or maybe it was more poetic at the top of our lungs.

At any rate.

We ended up getting into four lines, two for each bus. Then, we walked to our busses. We were taught how to “cover down” that is get into our lines. We were taught how to count off getting onto the bus. We were taught how to count off in the bus. Twice each time we loaded. More, if we got it wrong. We did not often get it wrong. In fact, the only times we got the count on the bus wrong was when we had somebody from the other bus get on ours. A spy. Call, “Spy on deck!” Response, “Spy on Deck!” That happened twice. But not with the same person. (We did have a short count when we were leaving the last day, but that is a different story.)

After a day or so of being with our Drill Instructor, I had an inkling as to why Marines always remember theirs. After just one day, you come to respect and maybe even love your drill instructor. You certainly get attached. You long for his approval. His camaraderie. His respect. That is really it. Or at least part of it. You want his respect. So you say the words at the top of your voice like he wants you to do. You step in line like he wants you to do. You do whatever it is that he wants you to do because you want the respect of this particular U.S. Marine. Yes, you may want the respect of every Marine you ever meet, but right now, you want the respect of this one Marine. And you will do what it takes, whatever it takes, to get it. You may not realize it until later, but when you earn the right to be called a U.S. Marine, you have earned the respect of the one Marine you want it from, and because of that, you have earned it from every person who has ever been a United States Marine.

The other thing I see is that Drill Instructors are the ideal Marines to recruits. And the recruits want to measure up. They want their DIs to be proud of them. They want to be like them. They want to be tough and confident. They want to be problem solvers and leaders. They want the respect of their DIs and fellow recruits. They want to be part of the family of U.S. Marines.

I am sure it is much more than a couple paragraphs could convey, but that is what I saw being with our DI for just a few days. Those reasons seem to me to be why a Marine will always remember his or her Drill Instructor.

I am sure that I wanted the respect of my Drill Instructor. I wanted to be the best educator at the workshop. I wanted to listen the best and perform the best. I wanted to respond the loudest. I wanted my DI to remember me like I would remember him.

Thank you SSgt Rosario, for an experience I will never forget. I am no Marine (even though I would be if I could), but even after a few short days, I know that I will always remember my Drill Instructor.

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Running Alone in the Woods · 12 October 2024

I have stopped running alone in the woods.

Some people think it is crazy, but I like to run. I cannot do it every day, but I try to run as often as I can. My goal is at least three times a week, but you know how goals go. Sometimes you hit them. Sometimes you do not.

At any rate. I like to run.

Now I am not an alarmist or anything like that, but I have decided that I am not going to run in the woods alone anymore. It is not that I am afraid of the boogeyman or anything like that. Quite the contrary. My fear is more practical. I do not want to get mauled by a lion.

Mauled by a lion! I know. That is crazy talk. But it has crossed my mind. Oh, not an African lion. A North American lion. A mountain lion.

It is certainly a farfetched idea to think that I might get mauled or even eaten by a mountain lion. Even if it has crossed my mind. But it is not out of the realm of possibility. After all, animals are coming closer to civilization the more civilization encroaches on the animals’ domains. Still, it is doubtful that a mountain lion is that close to where I like to run. Which is mostly in my own neighborhood.

I still think it wise not to run in the woods by myself. After all, there are other creatures in the woods that could maul me. Bobcats live around me. And then there are the deer. I do not need to get kicked by a deer. Or even impaled by a deer’s antlers. Again. Probably not going to happen. But then again…

Now that I think of it, meeting people in the woods could be scary. Not that I think the worst of people, but that is just it. Sometimes the worst in people comes out when you are alone in the woods. I might rather meet the lion.

At any rate.

(Well, I think this post is running out of steam. It was not quite what I was thinking it might be. But that is okay. After all, I am merely aspiring to be mediocre. So having something substandard is par for the course.)

When it comes right down to it, I am really not afraid of running in the woods by myself. But it would be better to run in them with other people. After all, if we did end up meeting a lion, I would not need to run faster than the lion. (Sorry to end on a bad dad joke. But like I said, I am still aspiring to be mediocre.)

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Aspiring to Be Mediocre · 5 October 2024

One of my friends and faithful readers has told me time and again that I should keep trying to become mediocre. That even though I am not there yet, I still might make it one day. And so I keep trying.

Some people would say, “With friends like that…” But that is not the way I think. I think that my friend is right. I should keep trying to be mediocre. I know. It is not a high bar. At least not for most people. But it is a worthy goal for me. My writing is suspect. Oh sure. It is regular. I post something every week. But even being regular is not the greatest thing. (Unless of course, you are worried about that sort of thing and eat lots of fiber in your diet.)

But being regular and being mediocre are two different things. After all, you can be a regular in terms of being steady and reliable without being that great at anything. Which is perhaps where I am at. You can count on my blog being out every week. I post something even if that something is not very good. Or even close to mediocre.

I do wonder what mediocre looks like. I think it is just being normal. But even normal is not normal anymore. Whatever that means. But when I came up with MediocreMan, I just figured I was a normal guy. A person who nobody really notices because he is not too great and not too bad. Maybe not just right, but then again, this is not the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Which, by the way, is an odd story. Think about it. The bears go for a walk, and leave their house unlocked. That seems pretty normal. After all, if you live in the bears’ neighborhood, you would not want to go into their house whether the door is locked or unlocked. After all, you might find the bears at home. But not only does Goldilocks go into the unlocked house, she eats their food. Or at least tastes some of their food. Then, she goes around and sits on chairs and finally falls asleep on the little bear’s bed because it is just right.

You know, I never thought of Goldilocks being such a criminal. She breaks into somebody’s house. She steals their food. Then, she vandalizes their bedroom by messing up beds she did not even sleep in (not to mention the chair she breaks). And she is caught red handed. Sheesh. Ah well. Everything ended up fine and dandy. They ended up becoming friends and living in Shrek’s swamp.

I do wonder about what it would be like to hit the goal of being mediocre. I might end up having a cohesive blog post without going off on tangents and giving spoilers for other people’s stories. Then again, I might not be as regular if I tried to wait for greatness to come upon me. So I will keep listening to my friend and keep striving to become mediocre. Maybe I will make it one day.

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