Happy 236th Birthday Marines and Happy Veteran's Day

I am not a Marine, never have, never will.  But I have known the Corps for most of my life.  My oldest brother, Bobby joined when he was 17.  I would have been eight.  I remember when the recruiter came to our house to pick him up.  They drove those awful mint green cars.  The recruiter looked so sharp and my brother so not.  He spent eight years in the USMC, going to Okinawa, Moscow and Wellington.  My other brother, Dick, joined when he was 19.  I was 13 and clearly remember missing him terribly.  He stayed in four years and spent a lot of those years in Hawaii.
I was proud of my brothers.  I liked to brag about them, especially to my friends who had brothers in the Navy.  I didn't know why that was an important dig, but it was.  My brothers were part of something bigger.  I was a proud little sister with a stuffed bulldog and a USMC t-shirt.
When Danny and I were dating and he started to talk about the military.  I was hoping that he would chose the Marines.  I knew what it did for my brothers, and I was excited about what it could do for Danny.  18 months after we met, Danny headed to MCRD San Diego for bootcamp.  I would not see him again until the night before our wedding.
I cannot begin to explain what the Corps means to me.  For four years, I was married to it.  And proudly so.  I knew "if the Marines wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one."   I was sort of prepared for the deployments and long training days.  I had been warned by my brothers, by the recruiters, by every other Leatherneck that we met on our way to the altar.  But I don't regret my days a Marine wife.  I relish them.  There is a pride, a sense of honor, an esprit de corps like no other branch of the military.  And I mean no disrespect, I spent four years as an Army wife and loved every moment.  But there was a difference.
I could not be any prouder of my Marine, my Army Airborne Ranger Marine.  He has followed a long tradition of Leathernecks, Devil Dogs, Jarheads and so many names that I am too ladylike to repeat. 
I have been to the Marine Corps Museum twice.  It is amazing.  It is humbling.  It is gratifying to know that there are men and women, that for 236 years now, walk that line every night so that I can sleep soundly.  
And tomorrow, 11-11, I will thank God, or providence or my lucky stars that I was fortunate enough to be from a nation that raises boys and girls up to men and women that want to serve and support and protect me and my family and the dirtbag down the street that doesn't do anything but put them down.   It takes a person of extraordinary strength, faith and courage to say "Yes, I will protect and defend these Untied States with my life, if necessary"  I am so very grateful to you and to your families.  Thank you.

Tonight I had the honor of attending the Marine Corps birthday party at a local bar.  The oldest Marine was a Korean war vet and a "China Marine".  The youngest was 6 days out of bootcamp.  In between were a bunch of old marines, reserve marines, drunk marines.  And the caption on the cake read "Old Breed?  New Breed?  It does not make a damn bit of difference as long as it is the Marine Breed."  LtGEN Chesty Puller.

1992