James Joering filled a box with his son’s favorite things. Kraft Easy Mac, hard candy, 20 packs of gum, 2 pounds of licorice. He paid $35 in shipping and put it in the mail.
And on this Father’s Day, Joering is hoping to speak to his son in person, via a videoconference call through the Freedom Calls Foundation, which arranges free connections between soldiers in Iraq and family back home.
That simple gift of contact is not something Joering takes for granted. His has largely been a fatherhood by long distance, between his home in St. Petersburg, Fla., and his son’s home in Georgia, and marked by visits and gifts rather than consistent physical presence.
Now, with his only son 6,000 miles away in Iraq, Joering is discovering that geography isn’t the greatest distance between a father and son.
Lance Cpl. Randy Joering, 19, serves with the 1st Battalion, 12th Marine Regiment as a provisional military police officer in Camp Fallujah, Iraq. He guards the Charlie battery as it transports prisoners and supplies.
James Joering, 43, works as a production supervisor for a countertop manufacturing company. He lives in St. Petersburg near his mother, and never remarried after he and Randy’s mother divorced. He watches auto racing on TV and tries not to worry about his son.
“You hear ‘Two killed in a roadside bomb,’ and you got to think, ‘Was that my kid?’ ” Joering said.
Joering was 23 when he became a reluctant father.
He had fallen in love five years earlier, when he was 18 and a senior at Northeast High School in St. Petersburg. Teresa Carlisle was 15, a friend of friends. When her family moved to Georgia a year later, Joering followed. A year after that, the young couple returned to St. Petersburg and eventually moved in together. Carlisle was 20 years old and two months pregnant when they got married.
“I wanted to do the right thing,” Joering said. “(But) I didn’t want to be married and I didn’t want to have a son.”
After a 14-hour labor, Carlisle delivered Randall James, a 9-pound, 14-ounce boy with a cone-shaped head.
“I saw that and thought, ‘That’s not my baby,’ ” Joering said. “Everything was kind of crazy, and I just kept thinking about his head.”
The couple moved back to Georgia, then back again to St. Petersburg. Too soon they grew apart.
“It was mostly my fault,” said Joering, who says Carlisle remains the love of his life. “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”
Three days before Randy Joering’s third birthday, Carlisle left. The couple officially divorced four years later. Carlisle remarried, but she and Joering both say they have maintained a good relationship, in large part because of their son.
Their shared parenting was complicated. Randy lived with his mother in Atlanta, and Joering would drive the 250 miles to the Georgia-Florida border to pick up him up every three months. By age 4, Randy Joering was flying solo to visit his father each summer and every other Christmas.
Life with Dad was different than life with Mom. During the school year Randy lived in Atlanta under Mom’s rules, but summertime held the promise of a new routine.
“We don’t make beds at my house,” Joering said with a laugh.
Joering became what his ex-wife calls a “Disneyland Dad.” He took Randy to Busch Gardens and Sea World. They biked and camped, went tubing and boating. They cared for a pet snake, which was something Mom would never do. Randy’s Christmas gifts from Joering filled an entire corner of the apartment.
“I just felt like I had to make up for lost time,” Joering said. “I overdid things, I think.”
But Randy’s trips to Florida got shorter as he grew taller. As a teenager, he spent more time with his friends or on mission trips with his church than he did with Dad. James Joering struggled with the idea that he was not more important in his son’s life.
“I bribed him,” Joering said. “I bought him anything he ever wanted. But I know love isn’t money and I’m not a rich man.”
People see much of Joering in his son. The men have the same mannerisms, the same pigeon toes. They are both stubborn and emotional, and are both picky eaters. Randy Joering’s list of acceptable foods: plain cheese pizza, peanut butter sandwiches, SpaghettiOs, unadorned chicken breast. James Joering’s typical diet: steak and potatoes, pizza and beer.
Joering and his son both floundered in high school, unsure of the right path. Although James Joering considered joining the military, a pair of flat feet and fear of mess hall food led him instead to his career in manufacturing. Despite his finicky palate, Randy Joering decided to become a Marine. He told his grandmother it would help him build character, and perhaps teach him to eat vegetables.
Father and son have another common trait — they’re both very close to their mothers. So when Randy Joering told his father he was signing up for the Marines, the elder Joering turned to his mother and cried. He knew where his son would be headed.
“I’m proud of you,” he told Randy. “You did something I wish I would have done but wasn’t brave enough to do.”
After 13 weeks in boot camp, Joering saw a change in his son. Randy Joering learned discipline and respect for authority. He ate things no one ever thought he would, like tortellini and coffee.
“When he graduated, he was opening the doors for everyone,” Joering said. “Everything was ‘yes, ma’am,’ and ‘yes, sir.’ “
Randy Joering’s graduation from boot camp was celebrated with 28 relatives in attendance. James Joering claims it as his proudest moment as a father. He showed up for the ceremony with a Marine tattoo on his right shoulder — a surprise gift for his son. A bald eagle perches atop a globe and anchor. The words “Proud Father” fly above the eagle.
Before his son was deployed, Joering flew out to visit him at his base in Hawaii. They argued about what to do and where to go. Randy Joering grew impatient with the traffic on a sightseeing tour.
“I said to him, ‘What else do we have to do besides go around and see everything?’ ” Joering said.
The rest of the trip followed a familiar routine, with James Joering trying to make the most of their time together, no matter the cost. They explored the Kaneohe Ranch where the Jurassic Park movies were filmed, rode ATVs and shot targets.
They played games at Dave & Buster’s every night. Joering treated his son to barbecued chicken at Outback Steakhouse.
When it was time for Dad to leave, Randy Joering asked him not to say goodbye at the base. Marines aren’t supposed to show emotion.
“It was very tough to say goodbye,” Joering said. “I’m man enough to say I cried.”
Joering can never be certain what his son is doing in Iraq. He knows that Randy sits atop the last vehicle in the convoy, shooting flares — then bullets — at anything that gets too close.
“I ask him ‘How dangerous is that job statistically?’ ” he said. ” ‘What do you do? Where do you go? What do you take?’ “
Randy Joering can only tell his father so much.
“I can’t tell you over the phone,” he jokes. “I’d have to kill you.”
Since his son left in March, Joering has talked to him twice. With phone access very limited, Randy Joering can’t call home very often. And when he does, it’s usually to his girlfriend or to his mother.
So James Joering turns to his ex-wife to keep tabs on his son. When the older Joering hears reports of war casualties on TV, he calls Randy’s mother in Atlanta. She logs on to their son’s e-mail and bank accounts to see if he’s bought anything or sent a message.
“I wouldn’t be able to sleep as easily as I do if I didn’t know he checked his e-mail or used his bank card,” Joering said.
In an e-mail interview, Randy Joering said his relationship with his father has had its ups and downs.
“Since my parents are divorced, I spent the most of my childhood with my mother,” he said. “My relationship with my father is not as close as I would like.”
James Joering’s chilled relationship with his own father colors how he behaves towards his son. He makes a point to tell his son “I love you” at the end of every conversation — something his own father never did.
“I wish we were closer than we are,” James Joering said. “I wish he would call me more.”
Joering’s care package flew from St. Petersburg to Hawaii before it finally reached Camp Fallujah. It was delivered to Randy Joering 10 days later. James Joering knows this because his son picked up the phone to tell his mom.
