It’s a little hard to explain the journey I’ve been on for the last four years. A journey some would say I was fortunate enough to have but one I felt rather unfortunate to have while it was happening to me. Everything looks better through the rear view mirror. Maybe that’s because those small frustrations don’t stand out enough to be seen when looking back. I’ve been blessed to live a life that not many young adults my age can say they’ve had. Most of this is due to my parents. I’m always excited and proud to tell them about the adventures I’ve been on since the last time I saw them. I love telling my mom about the joyful moments I shared with my friends and I love telling my dad about the many quarrels and quips I shared with my adversaries. But mostly, I was proud to call them my mom and dad.
As some of you know I almost DOR’ed from the Naval Academy during my youngster year. That’s one of the thousands of passed-around acronyms at USNA and it stands for drop on request. I could go into many long stories about why I decided to stay at the Academy, but the short answer stands before you in the form of my two amazing parents. If it weren’t for them I wouldn’t be able to tell my friends with a smug smile that while they were at home over the summer playing Call of Duty, I was actually on duty in the Persian Gulf standing on the flight deck of the world’s largest and most powerful warship watching the last six F-18 fighter jets dispatched during Operation Enduring Freedom catch wire and come to a screaming stop as their afterburners filled the night with a white glow. It was 98 degrees outside. I was sweating under my flight helmet so much that it was beginning to seep through my goggles. It was 3 in the morning. But something about that night was breathtaking. Maybe it was the fact that each of the pilots landing that night had at one point dropped bombs on those American-hating camel jockeys. Maybe it was the lights of the last jet of our most costly war landing on the ship next to me while hearing the CO announce over the loud speaker “We’ve done what we’ve came to do. Let’s take her home.” But whatever it was, I’ve never been instilled with a stronger pride of service to my country than on that night.
The next week I woke up only to find myself at the mouth of the Suez Canal. It costs one million dollars to pass through the Suez one way. There were times where the canal got so thin that I thought the sides of the carrier were stretching out over dry land. We traveled slowly, and it took all day to pass through, but everyone came out to see us. Little Egyptian kids came out and played on the beach as the crushing waves produced by our keel crashed on the sand. The next day I catapulted 13 F-18s off of the flight deck and into the Mediterranean air.
That night I was flown to a German Warship where I drank beer on the bridge. My friends and I made bets as to who would be the first person to see the rock of Gibraltar, or if we would be able to see both Spain and Morocco as we passed through the strait. I said no. I was wrong. You can see both continents as you pass through the straits of Gibraltar. That weekend I spent three nights in Lisbon, Portugal. On other ventures throughout my four years I have shot the largest impulse propulsion gun in the Navy, driven a three billion dollar nuclear submarine, dined and drank with astronauts, landed on a carrier, hovered a helicopter, tumbled through the air in a T-36 training jet, explored castles in Ireland, explored castles in Portugal, explored goat markets in Bahrain, almost capsized my boat in a hurricane off the coast of North Carolina, got some pictures of waterspouts a little too close for comfort, manned the helm of a ten thousand ton warship, explored the inside of the world’s most powerful nuclear propulsion system, shook the hands of four presidents, performed in front of three of them, created and organized a $50,000 music festival, while all the while earning a bachelor’s of science degree from what is commonly referred to as the most stressful school in the country.
Pretty neat. Not many people are fortunate enough to accomplish this many achievements in the time frame of four years. I’ve been asked many times if it is difficult for me to stay humble. I always respond by saying that it is not even a valid question because how could someone be humble about something they had nothing to do with. Each accomplishment, each adventure was achieved due to the few who have always been there to support me. It probably shouldn’t surprise you to know that most of these people are sitting in this room; my dad, my mom, my older brother, my two younger sisters, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles. There are few, however, that have helped me more than they can ever know because they are no longer with us. Grandpa Raymond, the one who initially inspired me to be a pilot. My Grandpa Cas, who passed away my first year at the Naval Academy. I was lucky enough to have seen him while wearing my uniform as I shook his hand for the last time. If I could I would go into stories that would last for days about each of my family members but because I would rather not embarrass myself or take up too much time, I’ll begin by saying that each of these people have not only been the reason I can stand here today, but have done more for me than I ever could have asked for or write about.
Last year my dad stood in front of my friends and told me that he was not only proud of the man that I’d become but that he was even more excited to meet the man that I would grow to be. Dad, I am happy to report that I’ve not only increased in my confidence and muscle build, but I have also become a man of stronger morals, stronger conscience, but also a stronger sense of pride and servitude. All the while, I have been striving to be more like you. You warned me about my arrogance. I have struggled, but I find help in my siblings who continue to impress and amaze me with the skills I could never hope to acquire. They keep me humble. Mom, you always wanted me to be more confident. I am happy to report that I can now successfully approach the front desk of a fast food restaurant counter and ask for a refill on my drink. Years ago that would have been a miracle. Two years ago it may have surprised you to see me walk up to the 41’st president of the United States and introduce myself, thank him for his years in office and for the opportunity to perform in front of him. We have a picture of this moment that sits on our old upright piano back at home. I hope this picture will help you remember the confidence I have gained over the years.
I am 22 years old. I am still considered a young adult or even a kid to many of you, but if I could offer any advice to those who have always been there to support me and offer me advice, it would be, regardless of how old you are, take every lesson you hear and apply it to yourself. Everyone in this room has taught me something in one way or another. And that is not just because they took the time to encourage me but it is also because I took every word to heart. As simple as the words may have been, everyone from my 18 year old sister to my 65 year old grandfather, they have had lessons to share. Listen. Don’t assume they don’t understand. I am the only one in this room who attended a military academy but the lessons shared with me provided me with the weaponry to defeat the challenges of the giant that only I could face. And for that, I thank each and every one of you. It is because of you that I can stand here. And it is because of you that I can proudly toast to the families, the friends and the loved ones of the strongest military in the world. To you.
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