Making Life RICH:: Happy 4th of July: A Marine Corps Adoption Story

Happy 4th of July Friends and Family!

This is a wonderful day to celebrate our freedoms, our country, and our fellow American. We live in the greatest nation in the world. This is a country where we get to make a difference, not just today, but for generations to come. To honor this day, we want to share with you a letter written by a fellow Marine, Lance Corporal Ries Murphy. Ries serves with Jason at Company D, Marine Cryptologic Support Battalion at Fort Gordon, Georgia. Ries has his own adoption story and reason why he serves as a Marine today. He and his mother, Polli, are an example of the great American story....one that makes a difference and serves the greater good!

Written by: Lance Corporal Ries Murphy

One of the questions they love to ask you at boot camp is why you joined the Marine Corps. I’ve heard some great answers to that question and some not so great answers, and every other kind of answer imaginable that fell somewhere in between the two. In truth, my reasons for joining the Corps can be traced back to my origins, and therefore, to a woman named Polli Murphy. She is my mother, and in the end, my story is her story. None of this would have been possible without her honor, her courage, her love and her commitment. She was a true Marine mom from the very beginning.

As early as the recruiting station one of the questions you answer in writing is “Why did you join the Marine Corps?” I answered “I joined for my mother. Both of them.” My recruiter was slightly confused. I didn’t have to ask why. How could I have explained it properly? How could I have explained that I was born in Asuncion, Paraguay, and it was a miracle that I was sitting before him at that moment? How could I explain that I considered my country my other mother? Every life is a miracle, in its own way. It just so happens that most of us don’t see it.

When I heard that Captain Pon and his family were in hot pursuit of an adoption, I was enthralled. I am of the conviction that adoption is not only a good option, it is a truly miraculous opportunity. I hear so often horror stories of adoptions gone wrong, where the truth of the child’s origins are kept from them until a late age. This would of course result in turmoil - how could it not? I’m here to say that it doesn’t have to be that way. There is another route. My mother’s route.

For as long as I can remember, my mother told me the truth in a way I could understand it. “The woman who gave birth to you loved you so much that she gave you to me, so you could have the life she wanted you to have,” my mother told me. “I’m going to do the best I know how. You’re a miracle.” I’ve known from the beginning that my adoption story is one of love, and so when the inevitable jabs came later in life, I was able to face them. I didn’t face as much cruelty as some, I’m happy to report, and on the rare occasion that I did run up against ignorance, my mother gave me the material with which to push back against it.

Polli Murphy is walking proof that a single woman can be a terrific family. She grew up All-American, with a World War II father and a Rosie the Riveter mom. Even though I didn’t have a father, I still feel like she effectively duplicated that kind of house. Growing up, it was mom and me from the very beginning right up to the present day. From a very young age, I took my cues on courage from her - a single woman who worked as a parole officer on Manhattan Island, and yet somehow still managed to hide Easter Eggs, plant Christmas Presents, and steal teeth in exchange for shiny quarters.

My mother was one of the baby boomers, a walking piece of an era so many people in my generation have abandoned in lieu of blind cynicism. She told me from the beginning that I was lucky to be an American - that America was the greatest country in the world. “Americans can do anything,” she said to me when I told her I wanted to be an astronaut. “You’ve just got to work for it.” I think this is a message sorely lacking in the hearts of many Americans these days, which saddens me.

As a result of this young indoctrination, I grew up feeling that I owed this country for the many wonderful opportunities it offered me. I grew up with the belief that being an American was a true blessing, that I was lucky to be here. I think every American is lucky to be here, and I think there’s a consequent humility a lot of young people lack. Thus, in a strange way, the fact that I wasn’t born in this country gives me a very different appreciation for the very same things my peers might take for granted.

In my 23 years, I’ve traveled to over twenty one countries, won a National Championship for high school marching band, attended DePauw University and received my Bachelor’s Degree in English. I’ve lived on both coasts and driven the American South, North and West. I’ve seen the Sequoias, the Petrified Forest, the Grand Canyon and the Smokies at dusk. I’ve been to Disney World at least once a year since I was five, and always know the best place to get a burger. I knew New York City before and after the towers fell, and now I look forward to knowing it again. Next year I hope to pursue my Master’s Degree here at Fort Gordon, Georgia, which I hope can open a career in government work. I think, all in all, that I’m doing alright.

This is why I joined the Marine Corps. I joined the Corps because I was adopted, and since every Marine is adopted by the Corps, I figured I could grow my family a bit. I joined because my mother told me that I was an American and I could do anything I could dream. I joined because she told me that America was the greatest country in the world, that our people were the bravest and the hardest working, and that the defense of our country is the noblest thing we could do. I grew up aware that I owed this country and my mother for the life that I have enjoyed.

In the end, there’s only thing one left to say.

I love you, Mom. Thank you for Disney World.