A Month of Birthdays Tribute

April is a busy month for birthdays for me. Of course, that's after coming off the end of March which is a close second for the month with the most celebrations. This April was particularly grand with the celebration of not only my birthday, which I share with my twin step-sisters, but also with children of two sets of dear friends. However, the kicker was the celebration of the 100th birthday of a man who has come to mean far more to me than I ever thought he would when I first met him almost 30 years ago. 

Jack going through records

 John M. Elliott first crossed my path when I was a lowly intern at the then-Marine Corps Historical Center in the Washington Navy Yard in 1995. I only knew him as Major Elliott, a frequent visitor/researcher who seemed to ooze history without lording it over you. I pulled files for him and had very little real interaction with him other than as a secondary to the historians in the office who were helping him. Over the next two and a half years, I would listen in on the stories he was telling, stories that he'd heard from the Marines who flew in World War I, the stories of men long gone already except in the pages of the books and papers. But we still didn't really know one another. As they do, all good things must come to an end. 

I left the Historical Center and went on about life for the next six years until fate/destiny/whateveryouwanttocallit came for me and pulled me from Wyoming to return to Washington. In 2003, I returned to the Historical Center and took up my position as a junior -- THE -- junior historian in the office. I was now responsible for the history of the Marine Corps' units, but more so, the individual Marine's history. Major Elliott returned again, and again. 

 It was after my return that was told I could call him Jack, a nickname he'd been given as a child--so much so that when he enlisted and they called roll looking for "John Elliott" he didn't recognize his own name!

Annette, Jack and Helen Elliott, 2010

Over the next 17 years, Jack was a frequent visitor of mine.  He's the man who got me hooked on researching and writing about the early Marine aviators--those who flew aircraft made of wood and canvas, held together with wire, bolts and glue, and flew without parachutes!  It was through Jack I learned of 1stSgt Peter Tolusciak (we'll circle back to him soon enough), and so many others that I wish I had been able to meet. 

Jack and his late wife Helen encouraged me in ways I didn't realize.  They were there when I got my first master's--cheering me on from the crowd right next to my folks, sister, aunt/uncle and best friend.  Helen was an alum of George Mason as well!

In 2020, with my departure from the Marine Corps, I lost touch with Jack and Helen for about a year.  In 2021, we reconnected; sadly, it was just Jack and I reconnecting as Helen had passed away.  It was then the second phase of our friendship began.  Having no family, and many friends also passed or in far off lands, I began to spend more of my weekends with Jack.

While I knew Jack had been in WWII as enlisted Marine, and that he was commissioned during the Korean War (where he served as well) and finished his career just after a tour in Vietnam, the details weren't there.  That was until we started spending more time together.  During this time, I learned about his life growing up in Santa Barbara after moving as a baby from Canada.  I got to know his parents through his stories and learned about his brothers.  But more so, I got to learn about his dear Helen--his wife of 67 years.

She said yes!

Then things went off the rail in spring of 2022.  Jack, the man who was still driving (yes at 98) and working on various writing projects, who prided himself on being able to do most things that others at his age were incapable, fell ill.  It was then that I learned what true friendship was in action.  Over two months, Jack was hospitalized with sepsis--an infection of the blood.  And every day, I was with him.  While the stories were more repetitive, and meandering--they continued.  He showed me his favorite picture of him and Helen.  A few days later, I was so concerned about him that I told him I was going to cancel my work trip to stay.  He told me NO, in very plain and clear language.  Work came first.  That day, before leaving the hospital, we both thought it was the last time we'd see each other.  I am not afraid to admit, I cried all the way home.  But his story wasn't over yet, and when I returned, he was on the mend.  

Jack being interviewed

For the past year, Jack's life (and mine!) has changed dramatically.  I'm more involved in another human beings life than I have ever been and he's continuing to teach me lessons about life, love, loyalty, friendship and what Semper Fidelis looks like in practice.  It's not just a throw-away phrase to him or I anymore.  Over the last year, there have been additional hospital stays and ER visits, but the man continues to demonstrate resolve, and determination.  He was so well in fact that in August last year, he did a 3 hour interview with the Richmond TV station at the National Museum of the Marine Corps, using just his cane to get around! 

Bringing this full circle, just last weekend, a select few gathered again at the museum to celebrate Jack's 100th birthday.  It was everything the man could wish for--friends, chocolate cake, and him holding court.  It was a beautiful lead into my birthday this weekend.  We gathered to honor the man, the Marine and the historian!  He was presented with a Quilt of Valor, a flag flown over the Marine Corps War Memorial, and some fans seeking autographs, among loads of cards, accolades and more chocolate!

Must be cake!

Flag presentation

 

In the end, the day was just as it should have been.  Loads of love, chocolate (did you catch that he loves chocolate?) and friends.  He continues to talk about it, telling me different aspects of the day each time we visit. 

Quilt presentation

So what I have I learned in the 30 years of knowing this man? Seeing him through some of his toughest days? Watching him battle back from near death? From hearing all the stories (sometimes multiple times, sometimes for the first time)?

Adoring fan seeking autograph

I've learned that a life well lived is demonstrated in the friends that come to celebrate your 100th birthday.  They are of all ages, backgrounds, experiences, and have one thing in common--you. I learned that Semper Fidelis isn't just some random motto and to most Marines it has true meaning that they feel deep in their soul, that it is demonstrated in their actions, their words, and their deeds as second nature.  I've learned the best way to motivate some, is to tell them that they are unable to do it.  I've learned that friendship is a weak work to describe the bonds we create in those relationships.  I've learned that I'm only a fraction of the historian that he is, but I'm working on it. I've learned how to be a better friend than I've ever been.  I've learned that my heart will be shattered one day soon in the near future, but that I will have become a better person, friend, and historian because of Major John M. "Jack" Elliott, USMC (Ret).