The other day I got to thinking – again – about how family affects children, sometimes long after they’re children.
My father was an attorney, but he’d just passed the bar exam and married my mother in June of 1941. After Pearl Harbor, he applied for a commission in the Navy. He was accepted and spent the next five years as a Navy officer, largely as communications officer on a fast troop transport that saw a great deal of action in the Pacific. After the war, he returned to law but remained in the Naval Reserve until multiple back operations required medical retirement. Although his legal expertise was securities law, he also loved literature and wrote a number of short stories on the side but was unsuccessful in getting any published. He also played the piano and wrote songs, and was offered a job in Hollywood, but chose law school instead. He became quite successful as an attorney and even was a town councilor and mayor protem of a small town outside Denver.
I definitely did not inherit any musical talent, but I was headed for a legal career and was two years into college during the early part of the Vietnam War when the Cuban Missile crisis occurred. I realized that as a healthy and athletic young man I was far too likely to be drafted, and I had no desire to be in the Army. So I joined the Naval Reserve in the ROC program (since abolished) which required regular reserve meetings and OCS training for two summers. I graduated on schedule and was promptly ordered to duty as an ensign assigned to an assault boat unit. I was soon deployed to Vietnam, but not before applying to be a Naval Aviator. I had a short deployment in Vietnam before my orders came through for flight school. Somehow, I survived flight training and four years as a helo driver (both carrier and non-carrier postings in the Pacific), after which I had to decide whether to go career or leave active duty.
Along the way, I realized that while I was a more than competent pilot, I was not a great pilot. So I opted for civilian life and applied to law schools. I was accepted… and came to the conclusion that I really didn’t want to be a lawyer. Instead, I took a job as an industrial economist, which didn’t work out, then failed miserably as a real estate agent, before spending a year writing short stories, and selling far too few to support a family (and four children by then).
I was involved in local politics and that led to a temporary job as a campaign researcher and writer, which turned into a position as a legislative assistant in Washington, D.C., followed by other political positions most often held by lawyers, eighteen years worth. All the time, I was writing and getting published on the side, until I finally left Washington for New Hampshire to become a full-time writer.
And, in a way, I ended up with a life-pattern far more like my father’s than I’d ever anticipated, or realized until recently, although he stayed married and totally in love with his college sweetheart from the time he met her until he died more than 60 years later, and it took me three tries on that front (but my wife the opera singer and college professor and I have been married for 34 years).
Then, as she, and my offspring, well know, I can be totally clueless about some aspects of life.