Our current apartment is half of the top floor of a house; as such, we have full access to the attic on our side, which has been a blessing because Alex is such a packrat. Unfortunately, he's also not the neatest person, either (strange, considering his Marine traing, but I guess he only applies it to things that matter--the man can spend two hours polishing his boots, but is hard pressed to pitch out the numerous Coke cans that accumulate around the house). In any case, when he moved into this apartment (a few weeks after I did), he took four years' worth of stuff straight up to the attic. All last summer I would say, "as soon as it gets cool out" (the attic, obviously, is very stuffy in the heat), "we're going to spend a few days up there just throwing stuff out."
As you can imagine, that never happened. And to make it worse, when he was preparing for deployment, Alex had to go up there to find gear he needed--and by "find" I mean "dump everything out of its box and leave it there on the floor."
Well, I'll be moving soon (well, "we" will be, but I'll be doing the moving, of course), and the attic has got to get straightened out well in advance. I started going up there when the weather was still cool, but second semester of my senior year turned out not to leave much time for organizing someone else's stuff, and the attic remained pretty much a mess. Since school ended, the weather has been mostly unbearably hot--until today. It's been raining and cool since I woke up, so I knew that could only mean one thing: up to the attic I went.
What's the point of this tale, you might ask? Well, most of the stuff up there is Alex's, and as such, is either mystifying (in content or possible reason as to why he kept it), electronics-related (of no interest to me), or, more interesting than my own stuff would be. The last category is why I'm writing this. It's a small one, but included:
letters he's kept from our three years together (two years of long-distance + one six-month deployment under our belts = quite a bit of letter-writing on my part)--they bring back memories of exactly how I was feeling at a given moment;
his "little black book" from before we were together, obviously (mentioned once before, I believe, but I'd never seen it--and don't worry, it's quite tame);
and various Marine Corps memorabilia, including a chart on which he had once sighted his weapon, tips for uniform inspections (with diagrams), and instruction booklets on shooting positions.
The most interesting item I found was actually not Alex's. It looked like any number of similar green pocket-sized "Memoranda" books I had seen Alex use (several of which I had already come across). I'm not sure quite what the deal is with these books; I know that Alex carried his in the pocket of his utilities while at the shop, recording numbers and other bits of information pertaining to his work as an electrician. I had also seen these books for sale at almost any PX or 7-day store we visited when I stayed on base with him, so they're common, I guess--I'm just not sure if they're required. Regardless, Alex (like many others, I assume) also used his to doodle in or as an impromptu address book/diary, and these tidbits make the little books mysterious glimpses into someone else's thoughts.
I opened the book up and saw immediately that it was not Alex's; the owner's name was written in bold on the first page, with his rank--I conjectured he had been a Lance Corporal (abbreviated Lcpl) when he started using the book, then was promoted to Corporal (Cpl). At first I thought perhaps this Cpl. had passed the book on to Alex because it contained information he would need in the shop, but a quick look-through revealed no change in hand-writing--and furthermore, slightly personal writings that I imagine one would not want others to read. So how had Alex come into possession of it? The owner's name was not familiar to me, but as I leafed through, I found a listing of names, including Alex's, with a rank one below that at which he was when I met him, and three below where he is now. This list of names is not at all uncommon--going through Alex's papers, I've come across at least two dozen similar lists, in his handwriting, or typed up in official charts.
Anyway, this Marine had never been Alex's roommate; the only thing I can imagine is that Alex either mistook the book for his own, or there was a larger mix-up. In any case, it was in my attic, and given that I do not know the Marine, I decided to look through the book (while I'm a reformed packrat, I have a fondness for "found" objects).
Lists of numbers don't interest me, of course, but something of the Marine's personality came out through his lists of the seven deadly sins, the wonders of the world, and most intriguing, "Things to Do After USMC." And here it is, exactly as written:
-Garbage Man
-Fire Man
-Teacher/College/Football
-Air Force
-Culinary School
-Janitor (you are highly qualified)
-Not Re-Up is key to any of these options ever coming true, and not knocking any women up.
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[I believe it goes without saying, but just in case: I post this with the best intentions. In addition to my "crush" on Marines as a breed, I have a deep and abiding respect for them, and indeed, all members of the military. Therefore, this is not meant to poke fun or be mean-spirited in any way.]