Never join the Marine Corps

The first piece of advice that comes to mind is something that my brother told me a few years ago, so I suppose I'll just run with that. It doesn't feel that long ago but it's been more than four years now that Stewart first went into the Marine Corps. The first three months were spent in boot camp at Parris Island, where the only communication they were allowed was letters. At the time, those three months felt like an eternity and they made me realize that I could actually miss my older brother. It seems like nothing now compared to his two seven-month deployments in Afghanistan. Anyway, in the span of his three months in boot camp, he sent us about ten letters, and one addressed specifically to me. In the midst of his chit chat and talk about boot camp, he firmly advised me to "never join the Marine Corps, Paige." Not like I was planning on it. This "gem" of advice is really more important to me because of the context and not because of the actual meaning.   It was mostly a shock to me that Stewart actually liked me enough to write me my own letter when he had much bigger things to worry about. It was also a great comfort because of those bigger things. Because the truth was: I was worried about my big brother whom I had previously loathed with a passion. And his little humorous advice made me feel reassured that he was alright. And if I ever have the urge to enlist, I'll just remember his letter and run away at top speed from the recruitment office.