For that reason I wanted this letter to be the first thing you saw when you arrived at your first duty station, but the power has been out for over 24 hours due to the wind storm we’ve been having here. I’ve never seen anything like it, especially here in Covina. We’ve had bursts of wind up to 70 mph, pulling trees up by the roots all over town. It started the day you left, and blew steadily for a solid three days. It was as though Mother Nature was blowing a tribute to the departure of her favorite son.
And you’ve always been just that--the perfect son. That’s what I was thinking as I watched the winds blow. Then as I looked out our front door and watched the mighty palms bow, I noticed a single leaf on our Winter bare Ficus tree, hanging tough against the relentless winds. The scene created a perfect metaphor for what was taking place--the rushing wind seemed to alert the mighty palm of the changing of the guard, while caressing the fragile leaf for a job well done. As I allowed the irony of the moment to saturate my consciousness, that solitary leaf seemed to personify my very existence: All my life I’ve had to fight the ferocious winds, so it seemed only fitting that they would return to usher my son into manhood, and to whisper, a job well done.
When I was a kid the world told me that I was nobody; that I came from inferior stock, and there was no room for people like me in a viable society. But you, your mother, sister, and I, together, we put the lie to their claim: When I was in school, Fremont moved hell and Earth to kick me out of there--they said I was no good, and never would be any good, but later, some of those very same people came knockin’ at my door, prepared to move hell and Earth just to get you in. And when I was a kid, it would have taken the National Guard to get me into Northview for just a brief look around, but as it turned out, if they thought they could, they would have brought in the National Guard to prevent me from taking you out. And when I went into the Marine Corps, I was considered an illiterate hoodlum and high school dropout who would never make it--the only reason they even let me in was as a favor to the court, and only then, because the Viet Nam War was raging and they saw it as an opportunity to sanitize the gene pool. And finally, when I married your mother, they said I was irresponsible, we were both too young, and it would never last. But now, twenty-five years later, just like that leaf in the storm, I survived to make both you and your sister better than myself--like two precious diamonds spawned from a lump of coal.
Now you--the son of this irresponsible deadbeat--has returned to the military in my stead as the well adjusted graduate of a prestigious university--the kind of man that the military invests countless millions of dollars in just the vague hope of attracting; the kind of man that is respected by all, and the kind of man that America concedes is one of its finest. You represent the very best that this country has to offer (and as such, always remember, you not only represent me, but millions of others like me). You’re life represents the culmination of Martin’s dream--and the dreams of your parents, and grandparents, and great grandparents, as they struggled through this world in the hope of making it a better place.
So as I watched the winds blow, I watched with a crowd, as we gazed upon the mountain top--inspired by the knowledge that our reach no longer exceeds our grasp.
.
LEGACY
Neither scholar nor the head of state,
The most common of men seems to be my fate;
A life blistered with struggle and constant need,
As my legacy to man I present my seed.
More fertile, more sturdy they both than I,
This withered old vine left fallow and dry die;
The nectar of their roots lie dormant still,
But through their fruit I’ll be revealed.
Love,
Dad
Eric L. Wattree