Because my memory tends to slop around like an old wet mop inside a galvanized wash bucket, there are few things I can remember beyond yesterday’s lunch, some of which has rendered me paralyzed when called upon by my wife to bring forth truth of important dates in our lives that not even the Dewey Decimal System could find. Only because of picture shakin’ cameras and Super 8 film can anyone prove I was ever the mischievous child my mother said I was. Now, at 6’-4” and tipping the scale just under the allowable weight limit of most commercial step ladders, the ballast in my mind equals that in my trunk. However, there is one memory which shook me to the core, and one I’ll never shake…Plebe Parent Weekend.

There is simply no reunion, on this side of heaven, any sweeter, as if dipped in Godiva chocolate, than the moment your plebe, the child you birthed, reared, and set afloat along the Severn, appears from the sea of exuberant mayhem while wearing their new angelic summer white uniform. You may hyperventilate from excitement, but that’s ok. It’s expected. Fainting is not. Stoicism is in short supply on this day and big salty tears are encouraged to walk the plank of gratefulness as you behold who your son or daughter has become over the six weeks since you left them at Alumni Hall. The United States Naval Academy is presenting to you their newest and best for you to enjoy this weekend. It’s as if your child has been born again.

But in all this, don’t miss the moments. The moment when you embrace your child for the first time in six weeks. It’ll be a moment, even a forgetful mind such as mine, will never forget. Cherish the conversations. Take advantage of the tours. Relish in visiting Bancroft and going “on deck”, a top secret place parents rarely see. Visit PEP at 0600, you’ll be glad you did. Walk the Yard, engage together, and hug, a lot. Buy gobs of N*AVY spirit gear, feed your plebe well and often, and say goodnight, only when you have to.

Take lots of photos. Like most of us, they’ll soon adorn your home, office, and social media. Also, take lots of time. Our youngest mid’s “love language” is quality time. I believe your plebe might agree, at least this weekend, their’s is too. They need to know, no matter their circumstances, struggles, disappointments, desires and successes, you have their six. Their is no one who holds more dear the heart of your child than you. Certificates, medals, and trophies need not apply.

For those parents who cannot see their amazing kids this weekend, find comfort in knowing you have grown some of the finest young men and women this great country has to offer. Your children are among accomplished people who have their best interest at heart. We are one big Navy family. We take care of our own and we will take care of your’s too.

Our second midshipman is a Firstie now. She’s pictured below. I had to pry Mama Bear away from her sweet cub. Each of our two PPW reunions were a gift and ones we still display on our shelves and will always bear in our hearts. Bring boxes of Kleenex, shout wipes, and lots of love, hugs, and kisses. You simply cannot over deposit those.

Our family will be there this weekend too with our firstie to celebrate the retirement of her sponsor dad, a Navy Commander. I’m sure we’ll reminisce a little about this day three years ago, when we too were spread out along Stribling Walk and Tecumseh Court. If I happen to stroll by, I’ll be the big guy holding the box of Kleenex under my arm trying not to hyperventilate while watching y’all love on your kids. ⚓️