This is about my experiences as a young man from a small country town in Michigan. I was naive with no life experiences with cultural diversity until I joined the Marine Corps. My first few years was an eye opener.
I served in the Marine Corps for eight years. I saw the wealthy and the poor, starving nations of the world. During my tour, I traveled to Iwakuni, Japan, Okinawa, Japan, small villages in South Korea, and the Philippines. Our country is full of holidays designed for overeating, while many third world nations are starving.
I came from a middle class family in a small town of Port Hope, Michigan. Port Hope is a rural farming/construction community where time stood motionless for the past twenty years. It is located approximately one hundred miles north and slightly west of Detroit along the shores of Lake Huron. Diversity is a word that is rarely thought of in this town. As you read my story, you will understand how incredibly naive and sheltered I was as a young man. My journey into life with my blinders removed began June 8, 1988. This was the day I started recruit training to become a United States Marine. I have never been away from home except to spend a summer with my aunt and uncle in Indiana. I was eighteen when I left home. I left six days before the rest of my class graduated high school. I received my high school diploma at Baccalaureate the Sunday before graduation. Marine Corp recruit training introduced me to many diverse cultures into a system that demanded unity and team work.
A little more than a year of service had pasted when I was transferred to Okinawa, Japan. I became the kid in the candy store. The single nineteen year old marine surrounded by cheap beer and a legal drinking age of eighteen with the financial power to have underprivileged people do favors for you. Many teenage Marines have heard the expression “if you haven’t been busted a few times for drinking and fighting than you are not a true Marine”.
One November morning 1989, I received a Thanksgiving post card from my parents in Holly, Michigan. The post card had a picture of stuffed turkey, pies, salads, potatoes and gravy on a decorated dinner table. I was happy to receive this post card, and kept this with me wherever I went.
Thanksgiving Day 1989 came around and I just received orders to board a plane headed for the Philippines. I will never forget that day as I walked the dusty streets of Olongapo, Philippines. A poor child, probably twelve years old, cried out to me. “G.I., G.I., can you spare $5.00, so I can buy something to eat. I was nineteen years old, young, self-centered and selfish (just as most of you are, my fellow Americans). I told him no for my belief of any starving nation was that I can’t help them all, so why should I give my money away now. My vested interest was purchasing beer and having a good time. I just continued on my way to the next local tavern. Without a second thought, I ordered a beer and headed back towards the hotel in the direction I came from. The same child saw me with my beer and cursed me. “You selfish American G.I. All you Americans are selfish!” He used other colorful explicative words I can’t put on a scholarly paper, but you get the idea. I looked straight ahead, embarrassed and went back to my hotel room.
Nicely written, with an important message, Chris. Well done 
-M
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