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Growing up in rural Maine was a unique, and in many ways,
insulated experience. While the sun rises first on its
shorelines, trends and cultural fads really do seem to reach
the easternmost continental state last. I swear, people are
just discovering Nirvana up there.
Still, it has its
charm. The kind of charm unique to small town America, with
an almost sepia-toned slow pace to everything. Some towns
have pretty much stayed the same since the 50's. For most, a
little church on the hill dotted with some old houses
constitute the town's center. I remember the largest social
gatherings in these little New England towns were the
occasional church suppers (not “dinners”) every now and
again. Clam chowder served among a sea of plaid and L.L.
Bean jackets. It was charming indeed.
However, it
didn't take long for the charm to fade. By the time I was a
teenager, I was ready to go. My wish was granted when
circumstances propelled me to another state full of oddities
- and lots of sunshine - Florida. Needless to say, this
transition couldn't have been more of a stark contrast. When
I first arrived, I wondered how any human being could decide
to settle there before air conditioning existed. After a
couple years cleaning pools and boat fishing, the state grew
on me, my accent dulled and I adjusted to the daily
thunderstorms.
When I reached 18, my old man, who I
was living with at the time, made good on his threat to send
me out into the workforce. I didn't know it, but I was about
to join the underlying current of directionless youth
without a clue of what they were doing, or what they'd
become, a staple of my generation.
The synopsis was,
it didn't go so well. I returned to Maine for a short stint
of kitchen work in Bar Harbor (during the summer time mind
you), had a brief job at a liquor store back in Florida,
selling wine to rich, disgruntled, day drinkers with too
much time on their hands, a few other jobs, and I was back
to square one, cleaning pools and taking in enough chlorine
fumes people probably thought I lived in a Y locker room.
It was here I decided something needed to change. I
didn't want to clean pools forever, I wanted a career, not a
job. The idea of joining the military was for me about as
remote as deciding to join a traveling circus. My father had
served, so did a few of my uncles, but I never thought of
myself as capable of leading that kind of lifestyle.
 Still, anyone who knows me discovers I am no stranger to
acting on impulse. I decided to give the Air Force a chance.
It was the best decision I ever made.
Now,
I'm still relatively young, at the wise age of 21, but I'm
resolute in this proclamation. The results of this profound
decision are clear to me. When I joined, I was given a list
to rank the jobs I wanted from top to bottom. Most service
members are familiar with this method. I began reading up
about an odd little career path titled Public Affairs. Well,
to me at least, the title “Public Affairs” didn't sound very
appealing. It sounded like what I was doing the past few
years, dealing with the affairs of the public, cleaning
their pools and selling them wine. I could do without the
general public. But then I read more.
There was
writing involved-always liked that. Writing angst-filled
poems was half of high school for me.
Photography?
Pretty cool, though I never picked up an actual camera
before.
However, what really convinced me was the
fact that I would cover stories from a multitude of Air
Force careers. Like a metaphorical sample platter, with each
taste furthering my knowledge of the people and missions
which make up its foundation.
So I placed it as
number one on my list, right above combat controller and
pest management- once again I didn't know what I was doing.
It wasn't long before I got a call from my recruiter who
sounded like clam in high water (New England idiom). He
informed me I got my number one, Public Affairs. Luck of the
Irish I suppose, but to say this was a lucky outcome would
be an understatement. Again, I didn't know it at the time,
but I just hit the proverbial jackpot.
Reminiscing
aside, I have been in the military for a grand whole year
now, and I've been sampling that platter whole heartily. I
think it's fair to say I've accumulated a definitive
experience. Well, not really. Haven't even deployed yet.
What I can say, however, is as I sit here writing this,
wearing the uniform of the world's greatest Air Force,
deploying writing methods instilled in me through free
training supplied by the military, I feel grateful. Grateful
in the truest sense. Thanks to the military, I have branched
off from the current of wayward-less youth and joined the
mighty river of my brothers and sisters in arms.
If
anything sums up my contentment with where I am in my life
let it be this-
I get to serve my country while doing
what I love. It can't get much better than this.
By U.S. Air Force Airman William Tracy
Provided
through DVIDS
Copyright 2017
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