I mean know that for moments I made a difference. I am not special.
I have been trying to wrap my emotions around this one and put it in perspective. I would say brain, but it didn’t cause a logic glitch in my ol’ tin brain, it caused a dissonance in my feelings leaving me not knowing how to feel. Being a being without a heart, that should be the norm, but decades of service, a natural aging process that decreases the testosterone, and my general bubbly personality have given me a go to “be pissed” comfort zone. That feeling doesn’t fit with the events that happened over the last week.
First thing that happened was a brother dropped a post on the DV Facebook page calling for me, personally. Typically, we don’t answer “call ups.” It isn’t because we don’t want to talk to someone. It is because if I am not on, and a person has an issue, they can’t wait for me to come back from work, generously apply WD-40 to my metal rod in long fast strokes, go into sleep mode, re-boot, scrape the crusty hydraulic fluid off my belly and log onto FB to start scanning. Every moderator on the page brings something to the table and to hold out for one person … we don’t encourage that. But I digest. I got a call out and I was actually on when it happened. This brother made a comment that basically said as he was going through his history he ran across our conversations a couple years prior. He told me about his moving forward, his path that he is continuing on, and had the fucking unabashed gall to thank me for saving his life.
The second thing that happened within a day of that is I was contacted by a Chief I served for over 30 years ago. He gave me a compliment about my service to him, to making him look good, to being the best Sailor he ever served with in 23 years and he regretted he had never told me. There was more, but that is the gist of it.
What the actual fuck? What am I supposed to do with that kind of horse shit in my life? Honestly, while I didn’t think exactly that, it is what it boils down to. And here is the answer. Be proud. I don’t mean peacock proud, or flaunt it about, or even live in it. I mean know that for moments I made a difference. I am not special. If anyone asks me what I do on the Page or did in the Navy it would be an honest assessment “Nothing spectacular.” But I think that there is a truth in that.
What truth is in “Nothing spectacular.” It is the truth of service. Every day thousands of Americans, mostly young, step forward and answer their nation’s call. They go through their military career short or long, and they think “I have done nothing spectacular.” The truth is none of us have (well very few have and they get presented medals by the President in the White House). We do our jobs, we support our brothers and sisters who stand beside us. We don’t ever know, unless some asshole comes and actually tells us, what impact we made. But we made one. We, collectively, changed the world by doing “nothing spectacular.”
And, that is how I move forward in my 9 to 5 (well 6 to 3 if we want to be honest). I do nothing spectacular, but I provide a vital service. I do nothing spectacular, but I support our economy. I do nothing spectacular, but I am able to listen to someone having a bad day, and I will never know if I made any difference in their day, but I made it less crappy for a moment.
Every one of you fuckers do the same.
I didn’t want to write this. I hate accolades and I despise self-promotion, but fuck, I think there is a “reality” a lot of our brothers and sisters need to know. Not being spectacular is pretty fucking cool. It is what makes the world work and it is what we do between oiling that metal rod.
Now, Go Fuck Yourselves.
Article written by: DV Tinman - Residential Naval Tube Expert & DV Mod
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