Ten years ago today…

…I retired from the Air Force. I would not have remembered except that my daughter was going through family photos this past weekend. She came across many of me in uniform. It seems I rarely got out of uniform in my 24-year career. I would not trade that time for anything in the world, but it was demanding on the family. The kids now say they would not trade it either – for the experiences, opportunities, and life’s education offered with frequent moves. That is not how they felt then though I can tell you. I was not home like 9 to 5 dads so if you wanted a picture, it was grab it when you could during those days.

My association with the Air Force was more than the 24 years, however. My father was a 30-year man and I went to college on an Air Force ROTC scholarship. Consequently, up until June 30, 1996, my entire life (46 years) was pretty much all Air Force–oriented. Always living on base and going to base schools when growing up, I made a conscious decision to never live on base while on active duty. I mean it is a fantastic environment for kids…safe and no more than a walk or bike ride to anything a kid would want to do for entertainment. But I did not want to end up like my father. When he retired and had to move into civilian life, he was totally unprepared. And lost. And unhappy. He had isolated himself from the “real” world for far too long and did not make the transition well at all. It happens. To this day it happens for military retirees. Some of my friends and contemporaries are still experiencing that now. They have trouble fitting in. Sooo….I ensured I had my military life and also a civilian life in the community in which I lived. This also provided more rounded education and experiences for my kids too I think.

My daughter came across pictures from my retirement ceremony and it made me smile. Most military retirement ceremonies are very formal…dress uniforms and such…lots of pomp and ceremony…medal(s) pinned…citations read. An officer can even have a marching parade in his honor if so requested. Only the vainest officers do, however, since it involves many troops who would most certainly like to be doing something else. Only one I ever served with called for a parade. He would though. Most retirement ceremonies are steeped in tradition – the Navy has a great tradition of “piping” the retiree onto shore for the last time and ringing the bells for some purpose I’ve forgotten. Most ceremonies are emotional with the retiree leaving a way of life he has grown to love so much. It must be loved to be tolerated. It had become an unwritten (Air Force at least) tradition to honor the retiree’s spouse as well for her sacrifices and support over the years. Rightfully so. Her retiring husband would say kind and loving words (also usually quite emotional) and she would be invited to the dais to receive a citation of appreciation and a dozen roses (purchased by the husband you taxpayers). Receptions usually followed (also paid for by the retiree) and a good time was had by all – especially if the retiree was not cheap.

My retirement was different. It was a unique experience. One that has not been replicated to my knowledge. It was both what I wanted and what would work. Actually, I “wanted” no ceremony at all. I just wanted to “fade away” (because I thought that was so cool of Douglas MacArthur). Well that plus a traditional ceremony would not really work well for me. It would have been one of those “conspicuous by absence” kinds of things. I spent my last seven years of my career in the same unit. Everybody knew I was married (and I always wear my ring). But nobody had ever met or even seen my wife. She “retired” from the Air Force as a spouse seven years earlier than I did. She never liked the Air Force life and detested the social obligations most of all. And there were always many of those. I can’t blame her. She is not social by nature, but add functions with nothing but shop talk incessantly and/or the proverbial officers’ wives who thought they were of the same rank (or even higher usually) than their husbands and were condescending at worst and just plain stuffy at best. Since I was in a position of Command at my next-to-last assignment, the social obligations were even more frequent than ever before. She had had enough. It caused tension between us for a number of years, so we compromised. I promised her she would never have to attend another Air Force function the rest of my career. The benefit to her is obvious. The benefit to me was not hearing her complaints. And it worked wonderfully for us both. The awkwardness of attending social functions at my new assignment (even more of those than my previous assignment) without my wife wore off much quicker than I expected and actually became quite acceptable, even expected, after awhile. People just stopped asking.

As my retirement date approached, my boss, the Major General, asked me when I was to have my ceremony. I relayed that I really preferred not to have one and he told me in short order that that was unacceptable. I’m sure he understood why, however, because he followed-up with, “You can have whatever kind of ceremony you choose, but you WILL have one.” As I have written, it was an unusual offer since most were traditional…and rote. ALL would have expected the spouse to attend. To me, that would be most awkward based upon our circumstances…based on our agreement. It had the clear marking of hypocrisy to me. Not that my wife was not supportive in her way, but to introduce her at my retirement to comrades and friends with whom I had worked and socialized for years and make the requisite remarks about her support and involvement in my military career would have been terribly inappropriate in my mind…and my wife’s too. After a couple of days mulling it over, I told the General I preferred a simple ceremony at the Officer’s Club around quitting time on a Friday. Just prior to Happy Hour – one of my favorite haunts of course. Having a retirement ceremony at the Club was not unusual. Having it on a Friday was, however. Fridays were utility uniform days (combat fatigues) for the entire base. Retirement ceremonies were conducted in dress uniform. I explained to him that Friday was to be my last day and I would be on the road to my new job the following morning and starting it two states away the upcoming Monday. I wanted to work until the last day. And I did (which took our IT dude by surprise because he took my computer three days before that Friday, just assuming I was going to be in the traditional “stealth” mode for retirees – I made him bring it back.). The General bought off on it and issued the retirement order.

The day came and I and other attendees awaited the General’s arrival in a room in the Club to start the ceremony. I stood at my place…and the end of the red carpet…centered in front of the flag array…everything positioned just like all of the retirements I had seen over the many years. As he sauntered in (all generals saunter) and all came to attention, he took one quick look around him and hollered (all generals holler too) for all in the room to hear, “This will NOT do!” The poor young lieutenant assigned as project officer for the ceremony meekly responded with a, “Sir?” The general barked back (when generals are not hollering, they are usually barking). “This will NOT do for Phaedrus! Go to the bar and get HIS bar stool!!” And he did. The General directed him to set it dead-center, at the end of the red carpet and centered in front of the flags. The General hesitated a moment and then hollered again, “This still is not right!! Lieutenant, go back in the bar and get HIS beer mug.” In typical military bar fashion, most of us had personalized (call-sign) mugs that hung over the bar. As the lieutenant scurried out, the General barked once more, “And make sure it has some beer in it!” And he did.

So…I stood at attention for the appropriate parts of the ceremony (the issuing of medals, reading citations, and the retirement order – always the toughest document of them all), but for most of my ceremony, it was informal…VERY informal with all in fatigues and the General having me take my bar stool seat while he stood and told lies about me and again when my turn came to say a few words at the end. He made sure my mug was never empty, pouring from his own at one point (the lieutenant was a fast-study and had fetched the General’s mug too and ensured it was never empty).

Then we all went to Happy Hour. Just like we always did. But we stayed longer. My comrades stayed and we transitioned at some point from the main bar to the casual bar (where the younger troops gathered for live music and hard partying) and we partied until they closed.

The lieutenant drove me home and the others staggered home (if they lived on base) or got picked up (nothing will kill an officer’s career quicker than a DWI). I recall the lieutenant asking me on the drive home, “Sir, this was my first retirement ceremony and it’s nothing like I expected. Are they all like this?” I remember pausing and smiling and then telling him that he will likely not see another like it. I don’t know if that was good or bad news to him.

But for me…it was…PERFECT.

Ten years ago…today: