Beginning tomorrow, January 3, and for the better part of 2026, I’m going back on active duty orders. I’ve spent the past five years as an infantry officer and a drilling reservist in the United States Marine Corps Reserve. It’s been a great experience, but I must confess that I still chuckle at the “two weeks in the summer and one weekend a month” mantra that you hear in the recruiting pitches. As anyone who has spent any time in a reserve infantry unit will tell you, it adds up to be a whole lot more than that — especially for the officers and staff noncommissioned officers who spend a great deal of time outside of organized drill “weekends” planning the unit’s training. The corps doesn’t pay out that TriCare for nothing!

In the last few hours before my leave of absence begins, I’d like to take a moment to thank National Review, and especially Rich Lowry, Ramesh Ponnuru, Jessica Hornik Evans, and Chuck DeFeo, for their steadfast commitment to our company’s particular contribution to supporting the nation’s defense. Despite my many — often very inconvenient — absences from the office over the years while I’ve gone off to schools or to training, NR has never been anything but 100 percent supportive. That’s not a universal circumstance. No matter what federal law might say, the real-life experience of many reservists is getting hassled and jerked around by employers and educators who don’t understand service in the reserves or the National Guard. It won’t surprise you to learn that nothing like that has ever happened within the halls of National Review. To all of my NR colleagues, thank you.

Of course the real burden of an activation and deployment will fall on my wife and kids. As I’m out gallivanting around the sunny Western Pacific, running on the beach, shooting guns, and riding around on helicopters, Tara will be trying to get our three boys bathed, fed, and in bed on a school night in March — while trying not to murder them. She’s also — get this — set to bring our fourth kid into this crazy world in the next few weeks (we’re hoping for a sweet girl this time around). She’s an absolute champ. I’m 100 percent confident that she can handle it all. Oh yes, I’m keenly aware that at some point the minivan is going to catch on fire, a tree is going to fall on the house, a pipe is going to burst, or a tornado is going to knock out the air conditioning in the heat of an Oklahoma August (all of these things have happened while I’ve been away from home on duty over the years), but she can handle it. Not only is she pretty, smart, and resourceful — she’s tough.

But the good news is that Tara won’t have to do any of it alone. Tara’s parents are right down the road, and we’re surrounded by friends, most of them based around our Catholic parish here in Tulsa. The other day, as I was prepping for this activation, I began thinking about one of those mid-’90s culture-war controversies set off by Hillary Clinton. The then–first lady wrote a book titled It Takes a Village: And Other Lessons Children Teach Us. Hillary argued that the family unit wasn’t enough, and that to properly raise a child, Americans needed to lean on society at large, health care organizations, the schools, NGOs, and of course, the government. The controversy was argued vociferously, including in these pages.

I agree with most of those critiques of Hillary. But I’ve started to think: Maybe it doesn’t take a village to raise a child — but how about a parish? A good parish. No, not a perfect one — but a working parish, alive and filled with energy and faith and overflowing with young families with tons of kids and more on the way. That’s what we have in our own little community, and it’s why I’m not worried about how things are going to go back home while I’m away. The kids will be alright, indeed.

Finally, I’d like to thank my Marines. I’m aware that there are many problems in our country and culture of late. There’s a crisis of masculinity, with far too many young men lost and alone — aimless, and fatherless, adrift in a river of anomie. But I can report that an antidote to all that — both for observers of American culture and the very sufferers of that anomie — is the Marines. The young men of my rifle company are enthusiastic, bright, energetic, and strong-willed. Few of them come from privileged backgrounds, and yet they love their country and they are excited for the coming adventure. They are simply the very best that America has to offer.

Pray for these young Marines. Pray for me and my family. And until next time, semper fidelis.