In just a week or so, I will mark nine full years as a military academy parent. You’d think with that kind of history, I might have seen it all.
As the father of a 2020 USNA graduate, I never experienced a Commissioning Week.
But despite some logistical challenges (which I will address in a different blog post, because believe me when I tell you, it deserves its own post), I can check that off my list.
After five years (one at the Prep, four on The Hill), several tearful video chats, a handful of unforgettable summer adventures, endless unanswered questions, and some stories you wouldn’t believe if I told you, Catherine Joanna Mei Smith is an Air Force Academy graduate and a newly minted 2nd Lt. in the United States Air Force.
My Navy Lt. and I arrived fairly late Tuesday evening (trust me, you’re gonna wanna read about it later), so things really got going for us Wednesday morning, preparing for the formal parade.
As the self-anointed, self-appointed head of logistics, I had our crew rolling toward the South Gate in plenty of time to overcome the poor signage, find parking and hop on a shuttle to Stillman Field. Even as the gliders did their thing and the Cadet Wing flawlessly executed its pass and review, this all seemed pretty routine. I mean, it was great to see Noah and Cate together on the field after the parade, but nothing struck me too hard.
After lunch, we made our way to the Polaris Hotel for the commissioning ceremony. I loved seeing all the cadets in their mess dress and the friends and family donned in clothes to match the occasion. Sitting there, watching cadet after cadet walk to the stage, raise their right hand and accept, as Loki would call it, their glorious purpose, put a smile on my face. It all felt so right as the Thunderbirds made pass after pass across the windows to our right.
Finally, it was Cate’s turn and I made my way to the front, ready to swap out those shoulderboards after the Oath of Office. That’s when the dream state began.
Cate’s back to me, I saw Noah in his dress choker whites staring intently into her eyes, right hand raised squarely. Clearly, confidently, he read out the oath, with what I could only hear as a murmured response from Cate. As Noah proceeded, the words became faint, I could only see his lips moving as my vision narrowed until all I could see were the two of them on that stage.
Finally, they both dropped their right hands for a moment before snapping off a smart salute. Then, they hugged. They hugged like only a brother and sister who knew the struggle could hug. He patted her on the back several times before breaking the embrace, smiling broadly and stepping back so we could execute the shoulderboard swap. I’m sure I did my part because I’ve seen the pictures, but frankly, it was all a blur.
The mood at dinner was lighter than it had been in quite a while. It felt appropriate to be seated at a cozy Italian restaurant, where comfort food was the order of the day. For the first time, it all started to seem quite real.
Mother Nature had quite a different set of plans for our expectations of another clear and sunny day. We were treated instead to a gray, cool and misty May morning. Somehow, it didn’t matter. I focused on getting us there, which despite my growing concerns about traffic, turned out to be more simple than any other trip to Falcon Stadium. We executed a hack and evaded a significant portion of the line to get, settling in to watch the Final Stop on the Parade of Lasts.
Two side notes:
First, I know some folks were hoping for the president or vice president to be the speaker, but I actually love that it was the secretary of the Air Force. Even though he only recently stepped into the job, it just felt a little more personal, a little more intimate.
Second, as only a military organization could, the event moved with precision and though it felt like it happened quickly, never felt rushed. Even in the chilling drizzle, it never felt like it was going on too long.
One by one the cadets strode across the stage, diploma in hand, saluted the distinguished guest, then turned to salute another recent graduate before returning to their seat. Cate did her part, shook hands, snapped off the salute with Dr. Troy E. Meink, then turned to one of her classmates. I froze for a moment, unable to breath.
In a flash, I recall the orphanage director handing her to me in the nondescript conference room of a Guangzhou hotel, the violin lessons, the trombone lessons, the basketball games, the gymnastics meets, the grocery shopping trips, grooming our beloved collie Falcon, our summer adventures, the tears, the laughs, and the hugs. She looked up toward us, beaming. The Parade of Lasts was over.
Dinner came and went and the next morning, Cate and her dear friend prepared for a multi-day cross-country trek and we all said our goodbyes. The girls left and an hour later, an Uber came to collect Noah for his trip to the airport.
The house fell still and I made a cup of coffee. Maybe I should have felt sad or wistful that it was all over. But I found myself smiling as I sipped my coffee and stared out at the mountains through the window. It felt right. It felt like it was time for this parade to end and for a new chapter to begin and begin for all of us.
My first and only Commissioning Week ended and for the first time in nine years, I cannot call myself a military academy parent. And that feels right.
My Kid The Cadet 