233 Years and Counting . . . OORAH!!

Photo: Petr Kratchovil

Not every American knows that the United States Marine Corps was first formed in 1775. November 10, 1775. In Philadelphia. And yes, that means the Marines helped give birth to a republic that didn't declare independence until 1776. Even fewer folks know that Marines everywhere celebrate Marine Birthday every November 10th. And let me just say that if you've never celebrated with a bunch of Marines . . . well, you only THINK you know what a party is, and that's the truth.

And speaking of parties, I chose the image above this post for two reasons. First, and most obviously, because we tend to associate fireworks with over-the-top celebrations. Here in New York, for example, the USS Intrepid is back in place again and last night its return was celebrated with fireworks. We go out of our way to see fireworks displays on Independence Day -- the bigger the better. We love the colored lights, the noise and (some of us, anyway) even love the smell of gunpowder. It's thrilling to witness that kind of spectacle.

That fact brings me to the deeper and less obvious significance of the image. I know at least one Marine Corps veteran who finds these celebratory displays unnerving. The noise. The smell of gunpowder. The smoke that begins to form a curtain. The uncanny resemblance of the colored lights to tracer rounds in a night sky. These are images of battle, not celebration. And so, he and others like him -- men who helped secure the very freedom we're celebrating -- avoid the displays as assiduously as the rest of us seek them. That those who should be our guests of honor are so unnerved by the celebration they'd rather not be guests at all, is, my friends, a textbook illustration of irony.

It's not just fireworks, of course. I know another vet who can't stand the sound of chopper blades. And still another who hates the smell of mud. And . . . well, you get the idea. These men wouldn't tell you this themselves. They are far too busy leading productive lives . . . loving their family and friends and making a difference in their communities. They remember men who didn't make it home and feel grateful to be here.

So if they wouldn't mention it, why am I? Particularly on this, a day for celebration? Good question. I mention it to remind those of us who have been served by them --which, make no mistake, is every one of us living in this country -- that taking an oath to serve and protect cost them in ways they never could have imagined. Not just in the big ways, but in a hundred little ways, too. They are our warriors. And, as a society, we have a responsibility to honor our warriors.

Most of them would dismiss this post with a cock-eyed, "aw-shucks-ma'am" grin and tell you they went because they knew they could blow stuff up, and there's truth in that. But there is a complementary truth that is a little deeper than that: They pledged themselves to walk through hell to spare us the need to do so. And, without exception among the men I'm blessed to know personally, they served proudly and honorably and would do the same again.

These men . . . these Marines . . . are part of a tradition that is older than the nation they serve. They served or are serving for their families. Their friends. Their neighbors. For you. And for me. So today, if you see someone wearing the Eagle, Globe and Anchor, wish him (or her?) Happy Birthday. And maybe even buy him (or her!) a beer to say thank you.

And to all "My Marines" . . . Happy Birthday, guys. I am so blessed to know each and every one of you.