Respect

I learned respect at a young age, saying ma’am and sir to my elders, but I didn’t leave it there.

When I was stationed at Barksdale, working alongside of active duty Airmen, in Munitions Control, if a senior noncommissioned officer or an officer walked into the room, we stood. It wasn’t about fear or being told to—it was about respect for the rank and what it represented. To this day, in my Air National Guard unit, when my Colonel walks into the room, I still stand. Not because I have to—but because I choose to, out of respect.  

Even now, when I speak to someone who outranks me—even if they are my age or even a-lot younger than me,  I still say “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am.” Age doesn’t change that.

Respect is respect.

And it doesn’t stop with the military.

When I go to a store like Walmart, Dollar General or Mac’s, I return my shopping cart. Sometimes I’ll even grab one from the corral or the parking lot, on my way in to the store, and take it all the way back inside when I’m finished with it. I do it out of respect—for the employees who have to gather them, and for the people whose cars could be damaged by a loose cart. It’s a small thing, but it matters.

If I walk into someone else’s home and they ask me to take off my shoes or not use certain towels, I respect that. It’s their home, not mine. I’m a guest, and I act like one.

The same goes for the road. If I’m driving through a neighborhood or a school zone,  or into the city limits of a town, I follow the speed limit—even if I don’t see anyone around. Those rules are there for a reason. Out of respect for the people who live there, for the children, for their parents—I slow down.

Respect, to me, isn’t about convenience or agreement. It’s about consistency. It’s about doing the right thing, even when no one is watching.