My oldest nephew is a giant. He’s just fifteen and he’s already six feet tall and as broad as a regular man. And yet, there’s something too long about his arms and legs that lets you know he’s got at least one more growth spurt in him.

He’s in the Junior ROTC, which I find alarming and hilarious, but I keep those opinions to myself.

He wants to be a Marine. I asked him to write me up a paragraph explaining all the ranks in the Marines and which one would require me, as a civilian, to start calling him ‘sir.’

And he says, “Aunt Betsy, I don’t mind if you start practicing right now.”

When he said he wanted to be a Marine, I asked him why and he said, “Because they’re the best.” I said, “I think every branch of the military thinks it’s the best.”

He said, “No, the Air Force thinks they’re the smartest.”

I don’t know. Maybe it’s not that funny in writing, but I was dying.