Today I watched my brother Jim’s change of command ceremony, where he turned over the command of the Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island to his successor, Brigadier General Julie Nethercot. There is no way I can adequately describe my pride in him, and my respect for the dedication and professionalism they try to live daily.
So I will tell you a story about the time he tried to waterski behind my bike:
Picture an eight year old toe-headed bowl-cut with big ears and horn-rimmed glasses. Imagine his rail-skinny older brother wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey (that’s right Jim, I was there; I remember before you loved the Giants). Among their assets they possess one two wheel pedal-bike, with blue flames on the white seat, one yellow plastic skateboard, and one length of clothesline. Equipment – check. The older boy explains to the younger that he is going to tie the rope to the back of the bike seat (probably avoiding the four foot long mounted neon safety flag), and hold on to the other end while he rides the skateboard. Little bro’s job will be to pedal his skinny legs off, generating the speed to allow big bro to do tricks and look cool doing it while we cruise up and down the street in front of our house.
You’re already ahead of me aren’t you. You already have a pretty good idea of how well this went, so I’ll just go ahead and confirm your instinct. Within an almost immeasurably short time, Jim has lost his balance and is no longer on the board. But here’s the part you may not have pictured. Jim, as you know, is incredibly stubborn, and not one to give up on an idea quickly, so he held onto that rope like he was hanging above a scorpion pit. Kevin as you know, is not a possessor of the quickest of reaction times, and when older brother says “pedal fast”, little brother does not ask “for how long” or “under what type of conditions would you empower me to exercise individual judgement and cease thigh-pumping”? So picture a stick-figure wearing a mop, being dragged across the gravel and blacktop while the summer-clothed version of the kid from “A Christmas Story” is gawking backwards and still trying churn butter, all the while thinking “boy, this is not going well at all.”
Have you ever wondered what would happen if you dragged a pre-teen boy over a cheese grater? It’s not fun to watch. Apparently it’s not fun to experience either. This moment, ladies and gentlemen, is the very moment Major General James F. Glynn, USMC first developed his “command voice”. That masculine, gravelly, sound that “has a tone, cadence, and snap that demand willing, correct, and immediate response.”
Jim yelled “Kev, stop!”
He’s fine. Why just last summer I saw him standing up on a tow-tube behind a boat and doing back flips and look cool doing it while we cruised up and down the river in front of our vacation house. I was not allowed to drive the boat.