that the rest of the world puts on other people.
And they themselves can take advantage of others’ needs to label and define—by playing into others’ expectations. For example: Cosmo Richter is a Navy SEAL. He’s tall and muscular with exotically colored eyes and striking features. He looks dangerous, and he’s quiet—he doesn’t talk much.
He also keeps what he’s feeling to himself—he’s very private. People look at him and see his lack of reaction and think, Yikes. He doesn’t feel a thing. He’s like a dangerous robot. And Cosmo lets them think that. He finds it’s easier to go through life protected by that shield—people who are a little bit afraid of him tend to keep their distance from him.
Right?
But what happens when Cosmo finds someone to whom he’d like to get close? What does he have to do to connect with her? He’s got to reveal himself, to unpeel.
It’s this unpeeling of layers that truly fascinates me—because no two people unpeel the same way. Some reveal themselves voluntarily and hopefully, while others resist, kicking and screaming. Some never really unpeel completely (like Nash in Flashpoint)—but they try. And sometimes that’s enough for the people who love them—just knowing that they’re trying.
VALENTINE’S DAY
AN ESSAY ON NAVY LIFE
Written for Valentine’s Day 2002
Traditionally, Valentine’s Day is about heart-shaped boxes of candies, romantic cards, a dozen roses, a candlelit dinner for two … All lovely traditions, but face it, they just don’t compare to the Valentine’s Day gift that the servicemen and -women in the U.S. Armed Forces give—not just to their loved ones but to every American.
My friend Rob is a petty officer in the U.S. Navy, and his ship recently returned to port after six months at sea. He and the rest of the crew spent Thanksgiving and Christmas away from their families. They were all glad to be home in time for Valentine’s Day.
Not that they needed Valentine’s Day to make their return to port romantic. In fact, recently Rob told me about a particularly sweet Navy ritual called “The First Kiss.”
As they approach their home port, all of the married men and women aboard the ship participate in a lottery. And oh, the competition for this is very fierce. Because the winner is the first to disembark, the first to greet—and kiss—his or her spouse after six very long months away from home.
It’s the sheer romantic sentimentality of this custom that gets to me. The very first person to set foot on shore isn’t chosen by rank or rate or power. That honor is given to someone lucky enough to be married and in love.
This is the big, bad U.S. Navy, an arm of the most powerful military force in the world. And yet everyone—from admirals to seamen recruits—unabashedly recognizes that the most important part of their homecoming lies in the arms of the men and women waiting for them.
But maybe that’s not such a surprise. Anyone willing to sacrifice so much to serve their country, to help ensure that America remains the “land of the free” has to have a good understanding of the power of love.
For our servicemen and -women, love isn’t about heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.
It’s about spending every minute of your long-awaited shore leave desperately trying to find a telephone to call your daughter on her birthday.
Love isn’t a candlelit dinner for two, it’s a hurried meal at 1530 hours in the mess hall for fifty, because the ship’s in hostile waters and you’ve got to get back on duty.
Love isn’t a lacy greeting card, it’s moving slowly in the darkness, one careful foot at a time, searching for booby traps in a cave that was once a terrorist hideout in Afghanistan.
Love isn’t a dozen roses, it’s fifteen dozen nights at sea, sleeping in a rack in a crowded cabin, half a world away from your lover’s arms.
Love isn’t just the First Kiss—it’s every kiss that every man and woman in military service willingly gives up when they volunteer. It’s every moment away from home and family that they sacrifice for another love—love of country.
And love of freedom.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all the servicemen and -women in all branches of the U.S. Military. Thanks for the terrific gift. And hurry home.
GLOSSARY OF TROUBLESHOOTERS TERMS
AK-47: An automatic rifle, first manufactured by Kalashnikov in Russia in 1947. Capable of firing 600 rounds per minute.
ALL HANDS: A meeting or an event where attendance is mandatory.
ALPHABET AGENCIES: Slang for government agencies identified by acronyms such as the FBI and CIA.
AO: