Alex Evans' Story

My name is Alex, and I grew up in San Gabriel, California, son of David from Omaha, Nebraska, and Carol, a British immigrant. It was a great place to grow up, but as graduation from high school swiftly approached, I realized I was not ready for adulthood. My mom did everything for us- cooked, cleaned, even ironed my clothes for Christ’s sake. She was the perfect mom, but I was not ready to be on my own. My dad gave me 3 choices following graduation- go to college (nope), work and pay rent until I moved out, or join the military. I chose the military. It was an easy out, or so I thought. 

I thought to myself, this is the right thing to do. My dad was in the Air Force, and my grandfather served in World War II, so this is what we do; we serve. I mean, the Cold War was over, and what could go wrong? It seemed to me it was a safe route that would allow me a little more time to prepare for life’s challenges, and I’d probably do some growing up without Mom taking care of me. I left the summer after graduating. It was hard to leave home, and basic training was a challenge, but I eventually settled into military life, got married at 19, and we moved to North Carolina, where I was stationed. It wasn’t my first choice, but it wasn’t bad. It was a safe place. I was excited to be an Air Force mechanic on a new fighter jet- the F-15E. 

Shortly after arriving at my permanent duty station, I was deployed to Saudi Arabia for what would eventually be dubbed Operation Desert Storm. I was not expecting to go to war, but that was my reality. I was scared for my family, friends, and me. It was a strange place, and it was far from home. Things heated up within that first month. I couldn’t believe what I’d gotten myself into. There were times I thought we wouldn’t make it home. On a nightly basis for the first few weeks of the war, we’d launch our jets and have just moments to gather our chem gear and run to our bunker as the air raid sirens went off. We had no idea what the enemy’s capabilities were, but after a month or so, we realized we were fairly safe from the dreaded SCUD missiles and the Iraqi army, and for the rest of our time there, we settled into a regular routine of working nights, returning to our tents, and doing our best to sleep in the unbelievable heat. After 6 months, I returned to North Carolina to live out the rest of my enlistment. 

While in the military, I was able to go to school and get my Airframe license, which I figured would set me up for a job when my 4-year term ended. We returned home to massive layoffs at the airlines, so my license wasn’t much good. After applying for jobs for a few months and getting no calls from potential employers, I decided the best thing for me to do was go to college. I guess I had grown up. 

I wasn’t a great student in high school, and I didn’t really think I could survive college. I was different. I was a veteran. I had developed a healthy level of anxiety during my time in the military, and I had a fairly low tolerance for life’s inconveniences. I was older, I was far more disciplined, I couldn’t relate to their struggles, and so I kept my head down and my nose in the books. There was no internet at the time, so I spent a lot of time studying in the library when I wasn’t working my three jobs to get by. I would hear other students talk about weekend plans, parties, dating, and struggling with grades. I could not relate. I just remember telling myself not to listen to their nonsense and focus on what I was there to do. I was annoyed most of the time. I was frustrated. I was mad at myself for not going straight to college so I could complain about parties and the like. I figured things might get better once I transferred. 

By the time I finished junior college, I realized I loved learning. I soaked everything up. I especially loved my psychology classes. I think I chose that route because I was trying to figure myself out and heal from whatever was bothering me. While I was doing well in my classes, I was struggling to figure out why I was so depressed all the time. There were days I felt like I just couldn’t continue, so learning about psychology helped me through. I transferred to Cal State L.A. (go Eagles!) and continued my learning journey. I was still different from most students, but I met more people who were like me- older, more determined, with more relatable lives. I made a few acquaintances there. We talked between classes and shared our stories. Things in my personal life were getting better, but I still felt alone and unsure of my future. 

I ended up graduating from Cal State L.A. summa cum laude, which was my goal, and I went on to get a Master’s in Business Administration. I still love to learn, and I look back on my educational career with fond memories mostly. Now I have two kids in college! It’s crazy and it’s great and I’m so proud of both of them. They’re so much smarter than I was. I love hearing about their classes and assignments, and I especially love the fact that there are Veteran’s centers that help them with their educational journey and a quiet place to go when they need to study. When I was going to school, I don’t recall the Veteran’s office being particularly accessible. They never reached out to see what I was doing or what I might be going through. Things are different now, and my kids are reaping the benefits of a more proactive approach to vets and their kids. I appreciate that. They don’t have to feel like just another fish swimming upstream. I really think I could have benefitted from that. I’m so glad that this generation of veterans going to school there have it. They need it, perhaps more than I did.

What I’d like people to know is that veterans think differently, particularly combat veterans. They can’t relate to the struggles of “regular” students. They can feel isolated, not in a superior way, but in a way that makes them feel less-than, or like an outsider. They’ve seen some sh*t. So, be patient with them. I’m not suggesting they want to feel worshiped or openly appreciated. They did, after all, volunteer to serve, but they deserve to be seen like anyone else. Encourage them to get help from the Veteran’s Office. Talk to them about their service. Maybe even thank them for it, but you don’t have to. Most importantly, don’t avoid them because of what they’ve experienced or because you assume they don’t want to be social. Include them in student activities. They have a unique perspective they may be happy to share, and can be great problem solvers and mentors. And, with a little help/encouragement from the rest of us they can go on to be great and well-rounded leaders, parents, husbands/wives/partners, and maybe even teachers and professors.