If so, what was your answer?
The phone booth is the old relic! I happen to like older women, I’ll have you know, and they remain in service for quite a long time, too! (Wait, that didn’t come out right . . . )
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Names and addresses, Savvy. Don’t just tease me with vague descriptions, I need their full names and contact information. Grrrrrrr.
Older
Younger
Conscious
Unconscious
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Were any of those your own choices or desires or dreams when you were growing up?
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That’s the angle I gleaned from reading what you wrote, that’s why I sought the distinction. Quite limiting in scope and vision, right? Thank you.
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((((Psssst: Were there sandwich-making courses at that special high school?))))
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Of course.
My answer varied over time: firefighter, actor, police officer, detective, spy, pilot, rich, etc.
By the time I was 14 years old, however, I was determined to be a US Marine (I did not for one second consider any of the other four US Armed Forces; Army, Navy, Air Force, and Coast Guard).
I began hanging out at the local Marine Corps recruiting office about once every couple of weeks in my senior year of high school. I learned some things about the Corps little by little. By law, a parent or legal guardian could sign the enlistment papers for a minor at age 17 years and 9 months. When I reached that age, I presented the paperwork to my mother, she didn’t take me seriously AT ALL. She knew me as always joking around, so she wasn’t buying it. I really was serious, so I kept trying to convince her, no dice. She was afraid that I wouldn’t finish high school if she signed them. She flat out refused, do so I had to wait. My 18th birthday would be months before graduation day, but it also signified the date at which I wouldn’t need her signature.
Ten days after my eighteenth birthday, I proudly presented my mother with the enlistment papers that I had signed earlier that day when I stopped by the recruiting office after school. I was in the Delayed Entry Program, which meant that I didn’t have to report to the Marine Corps right away; it allowed me time to finish high school before going to boot camp. She was still horrified and in disbelief, but it was a done deal, as I had a legal and binding contract.
Sure enough, according to plan, I went to boot camp that next summer, thereby beginning my whirlwind journey of serving my country and seeing the world.
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Shant prying means you wouldn’t have even posted this. You have posted it, so you’ve already pried.
I don’t mind telling you.
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It’s getting kind of late in the game, Bru. We’re in the fourth quarter and close to the two-minute warning, you know.
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