This month, 60 years ago, I enlisted in the U.S. Navy and left Reserve for a four-year tour of duty. It was Jan. 20, 1953, the same day Gen. Dwight Eisenhower became the 38th president of the United States. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 60 years, but I recall that day as clearly as any in my life.      
Three months prior to that day, while drinking a few beers in a local bar and trying to impress a few people, I said, “I’m not staying around here. I’m going to join the Marines. I want to see the world!” A fellow classmate of mine said, “Let’s join the Navy.” I agreed and the next day we went to New Orleans and prepared to enlist.
For the next couple of months, I bragged about leaving Reserve, going in the Navy, and seeing the world. The classmate who agreed to go with me decided not to go. I also had second thoughts, but my pride kept telling me I can’t back out after telling everyone I was leaving.
Jan. 20 came pretty fast. That morning, my mom woke me up and fixed me some coffee milk, and my dad took me to the airport to catch my flight to San Diego. As we departed, he had tears in his eyes and said, “Be good,” and asked me not to get a tattoo.
I had never flown before and don’t remember anything about the flight other than, with tears in my eyes, thinking that leaving Reserve wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be.  
Arriving in San Diego, getting settled and going to bed at 3:30 a.m. made me realize what a difference 24 hours could make in my life. The drill instructor turned the lights on at 4:30 a.m. yelling, “Revile, revile, it’s time to get up.” I made a stupid remark.  “I just got here at 3:30 a.m.” I can’t print what he said, but it got my attention.  
That first day was a long day of rushing and waiting in line. Besides a haircut, I was outfitted with Navy clothes, a sea bag and a bucket and brush to wash my clothes. Talk about a culture shock!  
After a long day and just one day removed from the comfort of my mother’s care, I got the chance to go to bed. With tears in my eyes, I thought, “All I wanted to do was see the world!” I then began thinking about my friend who had backed out. I resented the fact that as I made my decision to leave, he made his decision not to leave.  
Another thing came to my mind about life being one day at a time. I just had three years, 364 days left.  
Those four years passed, and the experience better prepared me to handle the future. As a rebellious 18-year-old, I needed the discipline of military life, and for that I’m grateful.
    
If you have any questions or comments, please write to Get High on Life, P.O. Drawer U, Reserve, LA 70084, call 985-652-8477, or email hkeller@comcast.net.