By that time I had a habit of signing myself up for things and telling my parents later. Disclaimer: Forgery is illegal and should not be practiced.
Zeta youth group, my signature. Cheerleading, my signature. Step Team, my signature. I mean it said Linda, but that’s the only one I could do.
Everybody worked, and in my teenage years I was kinda on my own, and I made really good choices. Some not so great ones too, but those didn’t stick, Hallelujah.
So when it came to joining the Navy, I hadn’t even thought about the fact that they needed actual signatures from my parents. Least of all did I realize they would have to chase my dad down back in Cincinnati to get him to agree to me potentially being gone forever.
My parents had me take a test in middle school to get a scholarship to private schools. I passed and the brochures for boarding and private schools started rolling in. I signed up for visits to the ones in town and told them later. At the end of it all, they needed me to be able to get there and back on my own. However, the boarding schools got shot down shortly after leaving the mailbox. Reginald was NOT HAVING IT. It was one thing for me to be a latchkey kid that could ride the bus anywhere and flipped my little $20 allowance enough to see the whole city in a week. Its something else for me to be completely out of reach.
So when I got to the part where I was just shy a few months of being able to sign for myself, but if I waited until my birthday I’d lose my place in the group I wanted to join (Winter boot camp, no bugs). I did everything I could think of to convince the same man who didn’t want me in boarding school that the Navy was one of the items on my list of good choices.
He sent his cousin from New Orleans to come tell me and my mom that We (as if she picked it) were tripping. He took us to a fancy dinner as was the usual when he came around. Tried to convince me that I needed to rethink my decision. I ate that shrimp and didn’t budge.
My dad’s coworker who was also in the reserves got the call from my recruiter (because I know how to make stuff move 👀) and finally got the pen in his hand.
I had resolved that the things I wanted for my life were on the other side of whatever this journey was in front of me. Finally, with extreme reservations he signed just before my prom night. He knew he would be in town for that anyway, and me fussing in makeup and a formal gown was probably way too much to handle. He played the violin in the dark when I put on my first power suit.
He trusted my choice. He signed the papers that let me join a family I wouldn’t trade for anything. So as I celebrate with my brothers and sisters (which is kind of a big deal for an only child). I thank my dad, for giving in to me becoming an adult… and as I write this sitting in the house I bought in walking distance from him. I gotta say it. Told you so, Dad.
As for my mom, she knew I had decided, and as the one who’s signature I perfected, she didn’t want me doing my usual on federal paperwork.
Salute to all the parents who signed the papers. I know it’s not easy. Remind me of this if I ever find myself in this position in 10 years.
Happy Veterans Day!
Black Maggie 