Orange Gloves (Brad)

The top three requirements for a successful navy,
Are: sailors, ships and, an ocean.
Curiously, about a thousand miles
From the nearest ocean,
Very close to Chicago, is a huge navy base
Called Great Lakes Naval Training Center.
This is where newly enlisted sailors go for what
The Navy calls “Basic Training”.
Most know it as “Boot Camp”.
To me it was six weeks of annoyance,
Marching, shouting, being shouted at,
Laughing, crying, growing up,
Losing weight, gaining weight,
Getting sick, getting fit,
Running, pushing up, jumping jack,
Swabbing, scrubbing, painting,
Folding, stenciling, stowing,
Lacing, polishing, stomping,
Showering, shaving, shooting,
Rushing, waiting, sleeping
And dreaming of going home,
Mostly, missing what I left,
Until Graduation Day.

A light snow fell outside the barracks.
Enter the Company Commander,
Attention on deck!
The man in khaki shouted (he always shouted),
Allums, Brown, Jundra, Kepko,
Kinter, Washington, Yale,
Report to the main gate
To greet your visitors!
Easier for some families
Who lived close to Chicago
To see their son graduate
Into the United States Navy.
As the rest of us waited nervously,
All our sea bags packed and stacked,
The Company Commander entered
With four more lists of men
To report to the main gate.
To greet their visitors.
Each name he shouted
Drove me as effectively as a hammer,
Deeper into a dark and lonely depression.

As the ceremony approached,
The Company Commander entered
One more time, to shout one more name.
Moroni, report to the main gate!
I was shocked by the thought
That my parents (maybe even my older brother)
Traveled all the way from Connecticut
To see me enter this new phase in my life.
Double time!
I triple timed. I quadruple timed.
I ran as fast as I could.
Elated and sweating in my pea coat,
My heart racing as I burst
Into the block building at the gate.
My name is Moroni!
I huffed as I looked around for my family.
Take these and follow him!
The second class petty officer at the counter
Said as he handed me a pair of gloves.
Special gloves. Rubber coated cotton gloves
With stretchy cotton bands at the wrists.
Tremendous gloves, bigger
And more orange than any gloves I’ve ever seen.
When I put the enormous gloves on,
My hands looked like they had been run over
And flattened by a cartoon steamroller.
As I stood on the tarmac,
Waving cars past me
With my ridiculous clown-like hands,
Hearing Anchors Aweigh blaring
Over the thousands of people
Graduating and watching
Their sons graduate,
I laughed at myself.

–B. R. Moroni
Draft © 2005 B.R. Moroni All rights reserved.