Thankful, Again

Happy Thanksgiving to all my U.S. readers! After a long hiatus, I’m back to writing new blog posts. My return just happens to coincide with my favorite American holiday and is in time for my annual Thanksgiving post. Fittingly, I have a long list of reasons to be thankful this year, some of which I will discuss in this article and some of which I will discuss in future ones. But, first things first. Does anyone know how much work it takes to properly retire from the U.S. military after 20 years of service?

I can reliably report that it takes a lot of effort if you want to do it correctly. Between Veteran’s Administration (VA) medical appointments, retirement paperwork, turnover with my relief, and a plethora of other tasks, my last few months of active duty just flew by! And then like that, it was over. I say that because in the last month I started Terminal Leave and hosted my retirement ceremony.

What’s Terminal Leave?

Don’t worry, I’m not dying. Or rather, I’m not dying any faster than anyone else out there. As Tyler Durden once said, “On a long enough timeline the survival rate of everyone drops to zero.”

Terminal Leave means that I’m still in the service but no longer working. I’m not working because I had a lot of unused leave. More importantly, even though I’m not working, I still get a full paycheck until that unused leave runs out. That scary day fast approaches, but for the moment, I’m thankful for both the paycheck and all of my saved up leave. Combined together they allowed me to start my retirement off on good fiscal footing and with a lot less stress.

What’s a Retirement Ceremony?

Another thing I’m thankful for this year is my retirement ceremony. To be more specific, I’m thankful to all the people who helped plan it, participated in it, and attended it. I’m also thankful for what my retirement ceremony helped me realize.

“What’s a retirement ceremony?”, you ask. Well, in my (soon-to-be-former) branch of the U.S. military any member who reaches retirement eligibility, and has served with honor, is offered the opportunity to hold a ceremony that celebrates their career and provides closure for them and their family. Typically, the final command at which that member worked hosts the event. And, within reason, that ceremony can be as formal or informal as the retiring member desires.

Tradition and Connection

My branch of the military is well known for sponsoring more, rather than less, formal retirement ceremonies replete with numerous traditions and pageantry. I believe there are several reasons for this. First, it provides the service an opportunity to officially thank the retiring member and, more importantly, their immediate family for the hard work, sacrifice, and effort it takes to serve 20+ years. Much like raising a child, it takes a village to help a service member stay the course for 20 or more years, especially in times of war.

As a result of the village effect, a retirement ceremony also serves as a powerful connection point between the military and the extended family and friends of the retiring military member. The U.S. military became an all-volunteer force after the Vietnam War, and it currently employs less than 1% of the American workforce. Despite the almost obligatory responsibility that many Americans feel to “thank” military members for their service, most civilians lack deep and meaningful connections to the armed forces. My branch of service understands the opportunity that a retirement ceremony offers to connect with a part of that civilian populace. This means commands are obliged to support the retiring member with a ceremony.

Do You Want a Retirement Ceremony?

My original answer to the above-bolded question was, “No, I don’t.” As much as I love talking about myself through the anonymity of this blog, I admit that a large retirement ceremony was not my preference. Why? Well, to be totally honest, a formal ceremony is a pain in the ass for the command who hosts it. As such, I didn’t want to levy that sort of demand on my command. That said, I didn’t get much choice in the matter because Mrs. Grumpus wanted a formal ceremony.

In her defense, she wanted a ceremony for two good reasons. First, she hoped that Grumpus Minime #1 (aka GM#1), who’s in third grade, would remember the event if it was more formal. Mrs. Grumpus hoped that GM#1 would internalize the ceremony with all of its pageantry. She also hoped he’d internalize the thanks my service bestows on military children for the sacrifices they make, like moving every few years. My service often works certificates of appreciation for family members into its retirement ceremonies for just this reason.

Secondly, as a symbol of our thanks and gratitude for their support throughout the years, Mrs. Grumpus also wanted to invite extended family and friends out to Hawaii to attend the ceremony. As such, a more formal retirement ceremony, rather than less, seemed the most appropriate way to show that appreciation to all who decided to spend the money and travel as far as Hawaii.

Location, Location, Location

Who can argue with those reasons? Not me! A happy wife is a happy retired life, my friend. So, with all that in mind, my wife and I decided to hold the event on board the USS MISSOURI in Pearl Harbor. We chose it because it’s a special ship in a beautiful location that’s packed with history and symbolism. And, it’s free for use by any U.S. service personnel for all sorts of ceremonies! Since this is a Financial Independence (FI) blog, I’m sure we can all appreciate free services wherever we find them.

In case you’re not familiar with the USS MISSOURI, World War II (WWII) officially ended on board the ship when the Japanese signed the terms of surrender in 1945. Of course, the ship was parked in Tokyo harbor at the time, but it didn’t stay there. USS MISSOURI continued to serve and she fought in both the Korean (1950 – 53) and the Persian Gulf (1991) Wars. However, she was decommissioned in 1992, and turned into a floating museum in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, in 1998.

Two Special Ships

USS MISSOURI is now permanently moored at Ford Island in the middle of Pearl Harbor, approximately 100 meters from the USS ARIZONA Memorial. Again, for those of you unfamiliar with WWII, USS ARIZONA was one of the battleships destroyed and sunk in the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941. Yet, unlike several of her sister ships, she was never salvaged and refloated. She remains on the bottom of Pearl Harbor in the same place that she sank, and she’s protected as a U.S. National Park. USS ARIZONA serves as a stark reminder to all that visit of the tragic event that sucked the U.S. into WWII.

In my opinion, you can’t design a better backdrop to reminisce about the beginning of a military career and to celebrate the end of it. The Alpha and Omega symbols for the U.S.’s involvement in WWII sit next to each other. If you ever visit the MISSOURI, I especially encourage you to look at the surrender documents on the Surrender Deck. Pay particular attention to the number of Allied signatories. It was a team effort to win that war, and everyone played a part. You’ll see the teamwork theme again in my remarks below.

Which Brings Me To The Retirement Speech

Now that I’m done auditioning as a USS MISSOURI tour guide, let’s talk about my retirement speech and what it helped me realize. In my service, retirement speeches are customary, but not obligatory. The retiring member usually invites a guest of honor to speak about the entirety of their career. As a result, a retiring member could literally get up, thank everyone, and move to the next part of the ceremony.

Yet, for all the hard work that several command members put into my retirement ceremony, and for my family and friends who decided to travel and attend the event, I felt that something more than “Thank You” was in order. However, as I sat down to write my speech, quite a few unknowns existed like the length of my guest speaker’s speech, and how hot it would be on the day of the ceremony. So, I made the speech modular. By that I mean I built it so I could use parts of it, if not the entire thing, based upon any number of factors which might occur on the day of the event.

As it turned out, the day of the ceremony was unseasonably hot and muggy, and the guest of honor spoke longer than I anticipated. By the time I got up to speak, I could see eyes glazing over. As a result, I decided a shorter speech was better. In the end, I only used a few parts from my prepared remarks at the beginning and end.

I Called an Audible

For the middle part of the speech, I winged it. Or, if you like American football references, I called an audible. After the “Thank You” section, I told a short story about a podcast I recently listened to. It seemed appropriate because over the previous three years I had started a lot of conversations at work with, “You know, I listened to this podcast the other day and …”

This particular podcast that I referenced discussed the results of several scientific studies that show that Olympic bronze medalists are much happier throughout their post-Olympic lives than silver medalists. Tangible differences include shorter average lifespans for silver medalists. The podcast concluded that silver medalists are less happy because they spend a lot of their post-Olympic life dwelling on the one person they didn’t beat (i.e. the gold medal winner). Conversely, bronze medal winners look at all the people who didn’t earn a medal and feel fortunate to have placed at all.

Grumpus, The Silver Medal Winner

I brought that podcast story up because as many audience members knew, I didn’t start my military career in the same service branch from which I retired. No, I initially joined a different service that I considered to be the elite and had wanted to join since the age of six. In fact, I wanted to join that service so bad that when I failed to gain entry on my first and second try, I made a third attempt, and was accepted. However, eight short weeks into my training I was administratively separated and sent home with stress fractures in both my knees.

Apparently, my heart forgot to tell my body that it would need to keep up to achieve my dream. And, to be completely honest, that failure made me bitter for a really long time. Long after I joined my current branch of service, long after I earned my commission, long after I graduated from my career specialty school, and long after I deployed for the first time; I carried a chip on my shoulder because I wasn’t in that other service.

At first, that chip was fairly apparent. After only a short time into my current career field, my peers all knew my story. I was the guy who wanted to be in that other service. However, not long after that, the chip on my shoulder became a liability. As a result, I learned to hide it. But, for a long time, I couldn’t get rid of it. Stated plainly, I resented the fact that I joined my current branch of service as a back-up plan. In other words, I was a silver medalist.

The Alchemy of Turning Silver Into Bronze

Fortunately, I turned the corner on those unhealthy feelings somewhere along the way. I cannot pinpoint the exact time and place when it happened, but it did happen. Maybe it occurred as a result of the events I describe in my Worth vs. Worth It post, which was a full decade into my career. Or, maybe it was about the time that Mrs. Grumpus and I had GM#1, which was twelve years into my career. Either way, I realize now that both of those timelines are obscenely long to carry such negative emotions.

Yet, when I turned the corner isn’t nearly as important as the fact that I turned the corner at all. Completely unknowingly, I bucked a trend that a lot of silver medalists never manage to do. I hope that means I get to live a few years longer than I would have otherwise!

So What’s The Secret Sauce?

Spoiler alert, there was no secret sauce. At some point, I just realized that I was being ungrateful. No one had pressured me to join my current service branch as a “back-up plan” or pick my career specialty. Sure, neither my current service branch nor my career field was my first choice, but it turned out I was good at my job, and I excelled in my service branch.

Not only that, but my career provided a great life for my family. Granted, as a military family we made sacrifices like moving every few years, and there was my not-so-small mental breakdown which resulted from a bad career decision. However, without my career, I never would have met my wife, or had my kids. My career literally took us all around the world and provided a lot of great memories. How many people can say that about their job?

The What-If

As if the maturing process I described above wasn’t enough, there was also a sobering “what if” that I definitely realized somewhere along the way. That “what if” went something like this:

Question: What if I had not broken my knees and had stayed in my original service branch?

Answer: I would have undoubtedly deployed many more times to Iraq and Afghanistan, in far more dangerous roles than I did with my current service branch and career specialty.

No lie, people I trained with during the eight weeks before my knees broke (some of whom I kept in touch with) spent a lot of time in Iraq and Afghanistan … during the worst parts of those conflicts. Other people I knew in that service came home injured from those wars, and some didn’t come home at all. This, more than anything else, changed the way I viewed my broken knees. Call it a blessing in disguise, or the ultimate bronze lining in a storm cloud, either way, I was lucky. In fact, that may be the understatement of my last twenty-two years.

More Thank You’s

Of course, I didn’t go into all these background issues during my speech about silver and bronze medalists, nor did I need to. Most of the audience members knew my background story to some degree. Some of them, like my parents and wife, even played key roles in helping me turn the corner. As a result, all I needed to do was draw a few parallels between the findings explained in the podcast and my own story, tell everyone I felt like a bronze medal winner that day, and let them know that bronze was a good thing! Which is what I did.

But, my speech didn’t stop there. I called that audible for a couple of other reasons as well. For one, it gave me a chance to thank everyone (again) for helping me win my bronze medal. The run-up to my retirement ceremony made me acutely aware that my success was built on the shoulders of others. I realized that if it weren’t for the love, guidance, assistance, leadership, mentorship, and followership of numerous family, friends, and co-workers from over the years, then I wouldn’t have made it to retirement eligibility. I wanted my audience to know that I knew that, and more importantly, that I was thankful for it.

Teamwork

As I mentioned above and as I did during my speech, the Allies won WWII working together as a team. The proof was literally sitting a few feet away during my speech in the form of the surrender documents signed by all the Allies. Yes, many of the Allies fought and won their own battles against the Japanese and Germans, but many times they fought alongside each other. This was all part of a greater effort, which is how I felt when I looked back on my career.

Sure, I had to pick myself up a few times during my career, but more often than not, a helping hand, wise counsel, and/or a shoulder to cry on was always there from multiple friends, family, and co-workers. On the day of my retirement ceremony, I was humbled by that fact and grateful. A simple “Thank You” didn’t seem like it was enough to express how I truly felt, but I said it anyway… and then I served them free cake and beer!

But Before the Beer, Let’s Talk About Resiliency

I also included the bronze medal story for one other reason. It set me up to deliver the last part of the speech to GM#1. Remember how I mentioned that Mrs. Grumpus hoped the ceremony would stick in GM#1’s memory? Well, I took her statement at face value and wrote a part in my speech specifically for him.

The issue that I chose to address, whether he knew it not, was resiliency. Now, I’m not one of those helicopter parents who obsess that any less-than-desirable behavior trait in their child might develop into full-blown psychosis as an adult. On the other hand, both Mrs. Grumpus and I have noticed that GM#1 lacks a certain amount of resilience when problems head his way. We both find this odd since GM#1 is a great problem solver. However, throw a little bit of adversity or failure into that problem solving, and there’s certain to be tears if not a full-on meltdown.

Again, the kid is only in third grade, so I’m not lining up the child psychologist just yet. But, I routinely engage with him on the fact that one cannot navigate life mistake or failure-free. Some of those engagements work better than others. No matter what though, I think it’s important that he hear from me about my struggles, challenges, failures, and triumphs. As a result, we’ve talked about my mental health issues and some of the other issues I overcame in life, including my broken knees. This means that the bronze medal winner story, and the tie-in I made into my career about my broken knees, should have held meaning for him.

Theory vs. Reality

At least, that was my theory. Who knows what he’ll remember in ten or twenty years? As it happened though, our ceremony’s photographer shot a picture of GM#1 as I was talking to him. Judging by the look on his face, he was listening intently. So, there is a reason to believe he might remember some of it!

Several people came up to me after the ceremony and said that part of my speech struck home for them. One co-worker even told me that it almost made her cry, which wasn’t my intent, but conveyed the amount of emotional weight I tried to put behind those words. I’ll let you determine for yourself though because I pasted the words below. Actually, I pasted a close approximation to those words, since I was off-script at that point in my speech:

GM#1, turn around and look at all these people. I am not standing here with all of them celebrating my career because everything went right in my life. I am standing here, in part, because a lot of things went wrong. Yes, sometimes I had to pick myself up, either mentally or physically, learn from my failures, and press ahead in a new direction. However, more often than not, when I failed, I got a helping hand from one of these people here and many more like them who could not attend today. You have the ability to do that too, whether you know it or not. You will discover it in time. Now that I’m retired, I look forward to being there with you, helping you grow, and watching you turn into the man you will become.

Thankfulness

So yeah, I wrote a retirement speech, a pretty good one too, but it wasn’t the one I gave at my retirement ceremony, and I’m thankful for that. The same could be said about my former career, it was a pretty good one too, but it wasn’t the one I had mapped out for myself at the age of six. I am thankful for it nonetheless. It took me a while to understand just how good it was, and it wasn’t free of mistakes, pain, and challenges along the way. And, I didn’t make it to retirement eligibility without relying on other people. I had a lot of help along the way, and I will be forever grateful for that too.

While I’m grateful for the results of my career, I’m also happy to be moving on. I will not miss the stress, the manpower shortages, the long hours, the deployments, or the … stress. I will miss the people I served with, and our shared sense of accomplishment whenever we did our jobs well. If nothing else, I am thankful for the chance I was given to serve alongside them.

Family First

That said, I’m more thankful for my family than I am for my career. There’s no regret here, I know I made the correct choice to retire. In fact, it was past time to go. Besides, life in the Grumpus household is never dull, and I want to be there watching and contributing to the excitement. That excitement includes an international move to New Zealand in January 2020 of which there will be many more articles on that, and other topics, over the next few months.

One Final “Thank You”

I’m about to sign off for now, but before I do, let me just say one more “Thank You.” It’s to you, dear reader. When I started this crazy blog almost 2 and 1/2 years ago, I had no idea what I was doing, or what type of audience I would find. Slowly but surely, though, people started reading and passed the word onto their friends and families. It is for that I say, “Thank you.” Without your help, there would be no blog, certainly no book, and most assuredly no book deal (more on that later). I hope no matter where you are in the world you find time this coming holiday season to count your blessings and to be thankful. When you do, I hope you realize that you too can celebrate like a bronze medalist.