Taste of Semper Fi

The Marine Corp recruitment office in Kaneohe was in the open-air strip mall (the one with Foodland and First Hawaiian Bank), right off the freeway going North. It had enough room for a standard cookie-cutter wooden-desk, a few chairs, a back nook and one-to-two recruiters to look inviting through that large display window. Kaneohe was usually overcast, humid and sunny all at the same time – the rain you got used to – that’s just how Hawaii is, especially the “windward” or the East sides of all the islands. My cousin made me go on her Marine Corp summer assignments for a few weeks before she got relocated – I was bribed by Genki sushi, Starbucks and escape from my new “home”, a grey-slate-tiled two story in Enchanted Lakes of Kailua, Oahu – that seemed a thousand degrees hotter (and louder with neighbors so close) than my breezy Maui home surrounded by cow pastures and eucalyptus trees. A few prospects a day would come in, mostly age 17-25 with some excitement at the attention we gave. Whatever professional interest one had, there was a path in military (so we told) and the free training/school, free room/board and travel is what usually brought them in. My script was minimal - I was there for show.

She was five years older than me, had done all the dangerous piercings no one dared – the tongue, the eyebrow, the entire ear lobes and I wanna say the lips at one point before her sign over… the nipples with the bars threw them were the most intense, for sure. She drove a beat-up, brown Ford pick-up stick-shift with Kiss and Metallica blasting the whole way to church. Her boots were the tie up kind. She had that half-shaven-head style with the bangs flipped to one side in the front. She was wild in ways no one believed were related to me. I thought her to be both fierce and childlike at the same time. It’s been an interesting relationship over the years but one I’ll get to later – she and I have some unspoken loyalty and were and are still extremely different to this day. I’ll call her Kris for now – Kris – a Scorpio, gifted in theater, drawing women portraits to the tee, poetry, psycho-analysis, containing secrets, puzzles, hunting, dog-whispering, soap making, good with her hands, jewelry, metal work, building, mechanics and now – a very dedicated, loving mother and wife. In my youth, she was both intimidating and unafraid. I saw her as hard. Different. Deep. Conflicting. Rebellious and attractive in an intensity that stirred all static. She broke molds. I was both fascinated and felt dominated by this female who’d one day dream prophecies of my life (that came true), take me skinny dipping everywhere, and be a support in times of need despite her irritation with my opposite ways. White, native American girl that would one day support Hawaiian activism and native rights – she’s a story on her own.

“You are on the jerk-off wall of the barracks next door to me, Sarah” Kris half-laughed through the phone. “My little-teen-cousin is in the bikini calendar taped to the mirror in the guys’ bathroom – what the fuck!” Her calls throughout the years were sporadic but always memorable. She’d end up sneaking me into her barracks a few years later to spend a few nights in her bunk. Her technical work on helicopter’s was far beyond me but those feelings of constraints, structure, adherents, the time pressure and black and white that take priority over feminine instincts, I cannot forget.

Bellows is one of the best (gorgeous white sand, crisp tourquiuse water) public beaches of Hawaii yet is treated as private for those coasties, airmen, and devil-dogs - meaning public access is not just given to just surf that famous break or walk that coast -you need a military ID to get on the best parts (a Native Hawaiian debate to go on for ages - another blog, another time). Summer of O4 made it clear I was not to consider the military though. While Noa was hoping I’d ask my other cousin, Kris’s younger brother, about him – I was at the Bellow’s beach in Waimanalo running laps with the new, young, eager recruits, doing my cuz a favor and looking cute to keep some incentive – took one for the team. My calves would be burning after just one stretch of beach runs - fine, heaps of sand makes your feet sink in a good 7-8 inches each step making a stair master seem easy. Those fucking jumping jacks and “Drop and give me 20” push-ups though. I just can’t do it the same as the guys. Am I a second late? Shit. Did everyone have to do it again because of me? Ooops! ...Sorry?

Me, 5’5 and 110 pound ballerina-raised body was not cutting it. Mostly though - it was my lack of enthusiasm for that life. Attempt to hold that rifle, aim, and hit the target at the practice hill? Hell no! At least I didn’t have to deal with the ego yet – that comes later – when the guys get the uniform and the rankings begin. Then the male domination mind begins, the liquor and notches on the belt. I swore I’d never ever date or be with a Marine after all I saw my cousin handle (bless her) not to mention the fact I come from military officers … and then shit, I ended up marrying one (and still trying to divorce) – like that default button. This kind of mindset stays with you. It’s indeed what they say - “Once a Marine, Always a Marine” and that trickles into everything, the marriage, the language, the work life and roles that come with that pre-positioned hierarchy - it’s hard to ever leave it once conditioned. And here i’m admitting its in my blood - distant but in the cell memory. I’ve struggled to find balance in it - in the domination/control structure that destroys so many families inner peace.

…all those privates and sargents i’d end up with way too many free drinks from… And the Kailua beaches filled with high-and-tight hair cuts, pumped up and clean shaven beer drinkers smoking killer BBQ were the normal weekends in Kailua, Oahu. Steady paychecks, a pension, USAA insurance, free living on base, that super cheap-on-base shopping, a man who can use a gun, save a drowning swimmer, bench press to kill, who still open doors for a lady, clean house, are organized, can keep public talk simple and those sexy manners are some of those perks many women go running after the uniformed for. So, don’t get me wrong – I have a lot of respect for the service (and they are fun). They work like fucking bulls – hours on end – determined minds that can bite the bullet with sweat and tears secondary to the goal of success, muscle like no other, beatings beyond the ring. I’ve heard men’s voice shake as the describe the explosion that threw them out of their belt into a metal ceiling, bloody faced, ribs broken, hearing gone for days, dead friend’s bodies to carry… Bravery, Resilience, Discipline is something our society lacks and this is a necessary old school teaching that military still holds. If we don’t have strong walls of protection, there will be a conqueror that comes and takes over (history says it over and over). I know we all want to believe everyone is kind in nature and that with regulation, people will be fair… but I hope my sharing gives some light on how human nature is always going to be ruled by emotion – which is not always talked about and not always predictable… and to embrace the unpredictable or that pain we hide is maybe the only way we can get through the insanity of being human. That to ignore the dark will not save us – that only in facing the dark, can the light and lovely be saved and human feelings can continue without complete death to the ironic experience of living.

*Please note that this read is meant to be entertaining, not necessarily factual