How much of what you believe is genetic and how much comes from your environment?
If B.F. Skinner and John Bowlby were alive today, we could
have a lively debate on this topic; but who wants to sit through a lecture from
a couple of egg heads?
What about personal experience?
I was raised in the bosom of Liberalism in Beverly,
Massachusetts in the 1960’s. Everyone I
knew worshipped at the throne of the Kennedy compound at Hyannis Port. My family had been voting Democratic since
the beginning of time. If Nurture is
right, then I should have swayed far to the left.
But, my brain was built a little different. I remember when I was sixteen watching a
debate on TV and on every topic, I agreed with Jerry Williams and not his
Liberal opponent. I can remember turning
off the TV and thinking, “How could this happen? I think I’m a Conservative!”
Fast forward a few years.
I left my home on July 5th, 1971, at the height
of the Viet Nam War, for boot camp at the Air Force Academy; not necessarily the most popular thing to do
in the Northeast at the time. I was a little nervous leaving my family and
friends to go to Colorado.
Luckily, once I started my summer training, I didn’t have to
make too many decisions. Uncle Sam is really good at telling you what to do. It
was in this first year where I transformed from civilian life.
Christmas was the first time I had any time off and I
traveled home for a much needed brake.
The rule at the Academy was that all 4th classmen (freshmen)
must travel in uniform. I must have gotten some nasty looks retrieving my
baggage in Boston, but I was so excited to be home that I didn’t notice.
I wasn’t looking forward to return to Logan airport a few
weeks later!
After checking in at the gate, I was asked to by airport
security, predecessors to the TSA, to accompany them. I was led to a back room and strip searched;
all the time being vilified about being in the Military. I seem to remember the terms “military
asshole” and “baby killer” being thrown around.
I’m sure this was just a couple of security punks showing
off and not the official policy of Logan Airport towards our men in uniform. If I knew then what I know now, I might have lodged
a complaint; but at eighteen years old, I was just happy to get on my plane, on
time.
I understand the value of frees speech; in fact, many of my
friends have died defending free speech for these so called Viet Nam
protestors. What I don’t understand is
why they always choose the American Military person to lodge their protests?
I believe it was Clausewitz that defined war as just the
final step of diplomacy. Why weren’t these protestors surrounding their Senator’s
and Congressman’s offices? They are the
ones who determined who would go to war; not the poor schmuck in uniform!
After that first year, I always tried to travel in civilian
clothes. Of course, it was hard to hide my Military haircut back then.
I ended up leaving active duty after ten years only to join
the Vermont National Guard after a ten year break. Amazingly enough, even in the new millennium,
wearing a uniform in Burlington Vermont was not the most popular thing to do.
Many of the full-time Guard people were briefed to change
before they left work for the day. As a
part-timer Green Mountain Boy, my uniform wearing was limited to a couple of
times a month.
For my Guard weekend, I would usually drive up to Burlington
on Friday night and stay in a hotel. I remember one specific weekend just after
911. On Saturday morning I dressed in my
BDU’s and went down to the curtesy continental breakfast to get my bagel and
cream cheese.
I was always a little uncomfortable standing in line, in
uniform, and I must have flinched when the gentleman in back of me in line
tapped me on the shoulder. I turned
expecting the worse and he shook my hand and thanked me for serving my
country. After that, the entire room
broke into applause and everyone came up to shake my hand and pound me on the
back.
I was flabbergasted! This was the first time in my entire
career in the Military that anyone had ever thanked me for serving my
country. I don’t know who those people
are who were in that room that morning, but I would like to thank them from the
bottom of my heart; it meant so much to me.
Does either behavior I encountered, good or bad, come from
Nature or Nurture? I don’t know, but I
imagine that the answer is somewhere in the middle.
*****
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