Man in Uniform

A couple of months ago, Ryan shaved before church. For most, this is a routine which comes as naturally as brushing ones teeth and goes unnoticed by the rest of the world. In Ryan's case, it was an act which was noticed enthusiastically by our Bishop, who had never before seen the baby face hiding behind a weeks worth of stubble.

"Whatever will you do if you ever have a job that requires you to look this groomed everyday?" he questioned.
"I don't know about that. I'm not too good at being told what to do," was Ryan's carefree response.

Who would have thought then, that just a few short months later, the same man would agree to shaving consecutively, every day for for years?

Ryan had applied for a scholarsip with the Navy that would see us through Dental School. Weeks of interviews and seemingly endless forms were drawing to a close in parallel with our time living in Albuquerque. We were hoping that Ryan would be sworn in before the big move, but as moving day arrived it seemed unlikely.

Amidst the August heat, we loaded our moving Lorry. Just as the last box was tucked into place inside the truck, we heard the buzz of Ryan's phone. Naturally, at the most inopportune time, it was his recruiter. The paperwork was finalized and they were ready to make his position as an Enlisted Naval Dentist official.

Could we make it to a ceremony the next morning at 9? Impossible. Ryan would be on the road and half way to Vegas at that point in time. Hmmm....could we make it to Sandia golf course in 50 minutes? The officers are up there for a round of golf.

We looked at ourselves and contemplated. Ryan, dripping in sweat for the first time that I have ever seen, his face shaded by his usual layer of stubble. Myself, hair pulled back into a knotted mess, not a scrap of make-up, wearing Ryan's oversized Metallica T-Shirt. Looking at each other, we both asked the same question; is it ok that we look like this?!

Apparently, before you enlist there are no rules for facial hair or attire, so after a moment to spruce up we were on the road and heading for the golf course. It was not the ceremony we had envisioned in the weeks prior. There was no waving of the flag or rows of saluting dignitaries as I had imagined. No, it was rather less formal. We met the officers in the gift shop as they decided what color golf balls would be best to play with; yellow was the choice of the day. Hands we shaken, introdctions were made and moments later they escorted us out onto the balcony, and it was there, overlooking the 18th hole, golf buggies bezzing along below us, that Ryan raised his arm to the square and swore an oath to the Constitution.

Ryan likes to think of it as a projection of his leisurely afternoons as a dentist, the informality seemed to suit him perfectly. He has since learned, to my horror, that a mustache is perfectly acceptable even as an officer. Something tells me that even with his new found rank, the facial hair won't be going anywhere.