Some Things Have to Change & Other Things Never Will
There are certain sensations—smells, sights, sounds—that, when experienced, blast me back to Korea. I need only a whiff of kimchi or the sound of a common album in my music rotation during those 12 months and I once again feel like a new sailor, experiencing a new world full of unknown possibilities for the first time. There is something exciting about this feeling. It reminds me of a time when my future didn’t worry me as much as it excited me and my sense of indomitability was twofold what it is today. I’m happy for the experiences I have behind me and I’m still excited for the experiences ahead but I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t have an unshakable anxiety about exactly how I’m going to proceed once I’m out of the military. Life is so easy with a steady paycheck and medical coverage encompassed by a job a monkey could do. Sadly, this life has deteriorated my ambition. That’s what I miss most from those early days in the navy.

I’m reminded of this past ambitiousness with the help of two people who became, and continue to be, a stable source of reassurance during the course of my time in Korea. Michael Mills’ has ambition that has consistently surpassed my own, a difficult and admirable trait. His intelligence, confidence, and optimism drew me to him instantly. I felt that I understood him on a basic level and, though I wouldn’t want to speak for him, I think the feeling was mutual. He’s out of the navy now and attending UNLV. I’m glad I had the opportunity to visit him for New Year’s. It reminded me that some things have to change and other things never will. We went to see Penn & Teller at New York New York, a favorite perceptive duo of ours whose television show Bullshit! gave us hours of entertainment, especially during those long 12 hour watches. Discussions of our ambitions gave me confidence in Korea and his continued advice (it’s better described as words about his view on life that I take as advice) continues to ease my mind. As a veteran living off the bounties of the GI Bill, he was able to help me with my own concerns, at the forefront of which is my unknown future well-being. Everyone getting out of the military to go to school is confused and shares my concerns, he told me. They live.

The other person is Mark Malinowski. You may have heard of him because a consequence of being one of my best friends is recurring references by me. He’s native to Arizona and has never let my adulation of Boston get in the way of his adoration of his home state. We first exchanged words with each other at the Phoenix airport the day we shipped out to boot camp. We wound up in the same IT A School class. We didn’t take to each other very well at first. When we got the same orders and his best friend in the class got the orders I wanted (to the Blue Ridge), the friend and I tried to switch. It didn’t work out and I couldn’t be happier with the results. Having spent a long four-and-a-half months last summer on the USS Blue Ridge and seeing the two people from my class still at the same command as when I arrived in Korea, as if sitting in stagnant water (to make a pun), I am elated to have avoided being based on that ship. If my orders had gotten switched, I would have lost the opportunity for one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.

Discussions between Mark and me on the course our lives will take are frequent. We have looked to each other for advice and now share the same challenge of leaving the navy successfully and smoothly. Until recently, he did not know if he would reenlist or not. Being the live-and-let-live person that I am, I tried hard not to project my negative feelings of the navy on him but I couldn’t resist jabs at the military lifestyle that I felt were well-deserved. Most of all, I feared making a recommendation he would take to heart and later realize he didn’t like, putting some blame on me. Writing that down makes me feel silly because Mark and I both know our decisions are our own. I know Mark would never make any decision of import based on mere recommendation and without long deliberation. He’s too careful and concerned, respectable traits to be sure.

When Mark made his final decision and told me he would be leaving the navy to attend ASU, I was excited, to say the least. The prospect of sharing the collegiate experience with someone whom I have already shared so many other experiences is strangely comforting. I haven’t told him this, of course. It’s a rare occurrence for me to directly share my emotions with others but I can be rest assured that he knows anyway. A meddling side effect of spending so much time with such an observant individual is that he catches on quickly to how a person thinks.

I don’t think I have hitherto appropriately expressed the how and why of the two most important people I’ve met in the navy. The rest of you who have made a similar impact on my life have your own commemorations elsewhere in my voluminous anthology of egomaniacal literature, whether you know it or not. As I sit here listening to Mike Doughty, a favorite of mine during my stay in Korea, I am reminded of what it was like to be so green at this navy gig and how important two friendships have been from the beginning.