Perception is in the eye of the beholder

Do any of these slogans fit your perception of a Marine?

Is perception actual, or based on cliché?

A conversation a few days ago sent my thoughts back to the concept of perception, centering more upon persona this time. I am going to take another run at it from that direction.

Ever see a motion picture or television show where the cliché good cop / bad cop comes into play? Unless you never go to movies or sit in front of a TV, undoubtedly you have. It not only is a ploy used to get a suspect to talk, but sometimes it is the real thing simply because of the individual police officer's perception of how officers should act in public, should treat civilians on the street and should act around their colleagues.

Most of us have observed "on duty" police officers at work, possibly in a situation after personally being stopped for a traffic violation. Some officers are friendly and smiling, some are all business and straight faced, some act cocky and jaunty, some come on like Mr. Tough Guy and scowl. Officers are trained how to behave in public, but some develop their own habits and standards based on their own personalities, education and levels of experience -- their own perception of themselves.

This is true in all lines of work, I think, but it just seems more obvious (to me, at least) when encountering people in uniform.

Think Marine Corps. Another sample of T-shirt slogans offers illustrations of attitudes adopted by individual Marines. "Improvise Adapt Overcome" is a useful motto for members of the military and civilians alike, in any occupational area. "Defending Our Nation" is appropriate for all branches of service. "I Fight What You Fear" is pure Marine bravado, a shirt for only a zealot to wear. "Any Where Any Time -- Marines" and "Death Smiles at Everyone –- Marines Smile Back" could be taken as bravado, as well, and might be, but more likely reflect an attitude of pride in willingness to be the first into any battle. Those two sort of demonstrate another cliché, which is fighting for the buddy next to you more than for any nationalistic ideal. The final one, "Marines –- Death Before Dishonor" falls into a warrior ethos that has existed here and there since time began. It was a code followed by the Spartans at Thermopylae and most men, if not all, who fought and died at the Alamo.

The long and the short of this is that I do not think you would encounter many Marines who would wear all six of those T-shirts. Perceptions of what a Marine is (or should be) vary widely, even among the members of this rigorously trained and indoctrinated organization. Concepts, overlap, most certainly, but not all of the "Devil Dogs" think of themselves like that or act like that or want others to view them like that.

Which leads me back to the starting point: how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us. The conversation which started me thinking about perceptions once again included discussion about shyness. I was told that I seemed to have considerable self-confidence and was very assertive in my behavior. My first thought was, no, I am more the quiet, withdrawn type.

Realization came an instant later that how I perceive myself in a given situation was the key. It all depended on what "role I was playing," which of my characters happened to be on stage at that moment in time.

As an "on duty" reporter, for instance, I can approach anyone (and often have) and ask any question, carrying with me a persona like I am the most important guy in the world and I am giving them a break simply by talking with them. If I were an "off duty” reporter, so to speak, and in a social situation and simply wanted to meet some of these same people, I doubt I would have the nerve to do it. I suppose the easy solution here (for me, at least) is to always think of myself as an "on duty" reporter.

This is my perception (beyond the chameleon characteristic) of what a "good reporter" should be –- assertive to the point of aggressiveness; confident to the point of arrogance; fearless to the point of recklessness. Sort of like a Marine, but with a pen and a notepad instead of a rifle. How others perceive me, I really never have thought about (or really cared about) in the past. I think I might now.

Music Note: Listening to Journey ....
Specifically, "Escape" ....
Some lines from "Stone in Love:"

Those summer nights are callin,
Stone in love
Can't help myself I'm fallin
Stone in love

Old dusty roads, led to the river
Runnin slow
She pulled me down, and in clover
We'd go round
In the heat with a blue jean girl
Burnin love comes once in a lifetime

Oooo the memories never fade away
Golden girl, I'll keep you forever

Following ancestors & "versing" the river

Before reaching the Mediterranean, there was this.

Fram the First was an avid tourist ....

Sometimes it is a bit embarrassing to admit ancestors were less than perfect, but eventually it is best to reveal the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Fram the First was less than perfect. There, I said it. Now, we will move along to the next item on today's agenda.

What? You're asking me in what way he was not perfect? Oh, I suppose I can tell you.

He was with a group of guys who raided Sarzana way back when. Yes, they did the usual amount of burning and looting. What do you expect Norwegians, Swedes and Danes would do after being cooped up all winter in an era before the age of televisions and personal computers? A guy can practice his swordsmanship only so long before going a little goofy.

What? Yes, fine. I'll tell you everything. They thought it was Rome they were sacking, not Sarzana. So, they got lost and were a little confused. They were only a few hundred miles off course. No one is perfect, you know. They still came home with a ship full of gold and Italian girlfriends, didn't they?

And, yes, before the Mediterranean and Rome ... I mean before Sarzana ... they did do a float up the Seine River and they did do a little damage in Paris. So what? That's what guys did back then to earn a buck.

Was Fram the First involved in any other mischief, you ask?

I will have to look at his other travel journals before I can answer that question. I'll get back to you.

Swim with me where the river flows deeply ....

The moment has arrived. Not since I was a college boy have I tried expressing myself in verse. I am not certain if this would qualify even as free verse. Probably not, but it at least tells another true tale. Think of this as a story told in column form, rather than in paragraph form.

A nearly identical event to this had taken place only a month or two earlier on Lake Superior. The "dummy" on that occasion was in the second canoe on this trip. After this, I banned liquor from my canoe trips until camp was set for the night. Two strikes were enough.

The canoe spills,
not by accident,
but by drunkenness,
and down the river we go.
I love it,
and swim with the current.

But dummy cannot swim.
The other idiot, me,
did not think to ask.
He is under, then up, choking.
He grabs the rope I trail behind,
clinging to it for his life.

I know I am smiling.
I should not be, but I am,
I am one with the river now.
I catch the canoe and pass it
and grab onto it, pulling, towing.
The current finally is cut.

I slap dummy around and curse him
after I get him to shore.
He laughs,
too drunk to know he has been a whisper
from watery, meaningless death,
from killing the both of us.

The other canoe rescues my fishing gear.
I had known my priorities,
and tied my own life vest to it.
I lost my grandfather's sweatshirt, though.
It still rests, I know, beneath fast, deep water,
one with the Escanaba River now.

Music Note: Listening to a classic rock station on the radio ....

("Wheel in the Sky" by Journey is playing)