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Semper Fi, Mijo A Marine mom's survival guide, from the first phone call to Family Day by Betty Alvardo, Corpus Christi, Texas Hello · The phone call · What boot camp is · How to write a recruit · What I learned waiting · Family Day and graduation · To the other moms · Our letters, week by week I'm going to guess you're here because your son or daughter just told you they joined the Marines, and you are either very proud or very scared or, if you're like me, both at the same time, all day long. I'm Betty. I'm 45. I'm the dispatcher for the school buses in our district, which means I'm on the radio at 4:45 every morning telling twenty-two drivers where the potholes are. I'm a single mom of three: Ramiro is 19, Renee is 17, and Sebastian is 13. Ramiro is the oldest, the serious one, the one who used to line up his toy soldiers by height. Last fall he came home and said, "Ma, I talked to a recruiter." I said, "Which recruiter?" He said, "The Marines." I said, "Ay, Dios mío," and sat down on the kitchen floor. Two weeks later I went with him to meet his recruiter, Staff Sergeant Bolton, a very polite young man with a very short haircut, and I cried in his office in front of everybody. He handed me a box of tissues like he'd done it before. I think he had. Then I went home and did what I do best: I got organized. This page is everything I organized. Ramiro left for Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego on Monday, June 7, 1999. He graduated on Friday, September 3. I'm writing this the week after he left again for the School of Infantry at Camp Pendleton, and the house is too quiet, so here we go. The phone call and the form letter He went to the processing station in San Antonio that Monday, and that night they flew him and a planeload of other boys to San Diego. Recruits get there at night, on purpose, I think. At about one in the morning our time, the phone rang. It was Ramiro, reading off a card in a voice I'd never heard before: he had arrived safely, he would write soon, goodbye. Fifteen seconds. Maybe less. Click. I stood in the kitchen in my nightgown holding the phone and I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry, so I did both. Moms, here's what nobody told me: that call is short on purpose. It's not him being rude. He's got a drill instructor standing right there. Don't take it personally. Be glad you got it, and go back to bed. (You won't sleep.) About a week later a form letter came in the mail with his mailing address on it. That's the day you can start writing. Copy that address exactly. Every letter, every number. I'm a mom, not a Marine, so this is the general picture. Your recruiter can tell you more, and so can the Marines' own family information.
Letters are everything. They get mail call at night, and the recruit who gets nothing feels it. Write. Write a lot. Here's what I learned, some of it the hard way.
Ramiro's Family Day was Thursday, September 2, and graduation was Friday, September 3, 1999. All four of us drove out, plus my mother, who said she wasn't going to miss it if she had to walk. Two days in the car. Bring snacks. Family Day starts early in the morning with a run: the new Marines come by in formation and the families line up and scream. I couldn't find him. They all look the same, shaved heads and all. Then Sebastian yelled "THERE!" and there he was, eyes straight ahead, and I lost it. After a ceremony they get on-base liberty for a few hours, and you get to hug him, finally, and he says "yes, ma'am" to you, and you look around for who he's talking to. Graduation is Friday morning on the parade deck. The band, the flags, the whole company marching. I've never been so proud of anything in my life, and I've watched three kids learn to walk. Tips for traveling families:
After graduation they get about ten days of leave at home. Then Ramiro reported to the School of Infantry at Camp Pendleton, which is where he is now. He calls on Sundays. Sundays are my favorite day again. You are going to cry. That's fine. Cry, and then write a letter. He needs to hear from you more than he'll ever say. Your baby is going to come back a grown man, or a grown woman. It's a hard thing to watch and a beautiful thing to see. Mija, he's going to be fine. And so are you. For later, when your Marine is out in the fleet and maybe far away: Care Package Central has what to put in a care package for somebody deployed, what not to, and how a monthly packing party works. Wendy is an Army wife, but a box from home is a box from home. Semper Fi, mijo. Te quiero mucho. (and a few dads and grandmas) Write me: [email protected] Last updated Saturday, September 25, 1999 |