A friend asked why I joined the Army when my dad was a Navy veteran. It’s sort of a funny in a shallow, teenage way. I joined the Army for two reasons.

First, I wanted to attend college and the Army offered the best educational package of all the branches back then. Not only did they have the GI Bill, but they also had the Army College fund. Combined, it meant I would get $25,000 toward my education after serving four years.

I don’t recall what the other branches offered at the time, but none of them came close. So, I joined the Army. Had the Navy offered a bigger payout, I wouldn’t have taken it, though.

That leads us to the second reason I chose the Army—I wanted to stick a thumb in my dad’s eye.

You see, the old man and I didn’t get along while I was in high school. I’m to blame, and I take full responsibility for it now. Back then, I would have pointed an accusatory finger at my dad for our problems. I thought he was stubborn because he had rules and expectations. Yet I acted like a royal jerk to my parents.

Whenever he told me to do anything, I railed against it. I figured I was smarter than him because I understood things like computers, MTV, and beer bongs. Full disclosure—I never told my dad about my beer bong skills, so I don’t know if he ever used one. I’m just assuming he hadn’t.

If he said hot, I argued it was cold. If he suggested I duck to avoid hitting my head, I jumped to ensure I conked it. It was typical teenager stuff.

Because my dad was proud of his military service, there was no way I would ever go into the Navy. I met with an Army recruiter, jumped through the hoops, and signed up.

When I told Dad I was going into the Army, I expected him to be upset. I wanted him to melt down and blow a gasket. Maybe even through a tantrum and say something like, “How could you do this to me? How could you not join the Navy?”

Instead, the old man said, “Great! When do you leave?”

His enthusiasm frustrated me. I didn’t understand how he could be so happy.

But I get it now.

I totally get it now.