The Marines was a fresh start - that is why they shave your

In the words of Drew Carey, spoken with wit yet carrying a deep truth, we hear of transformation and rebirth: “The Marines was a fresh start—that is why they shave your head. I wish they would let you change your name.” Behind the humor lies the recognition that the act of entering a new life requires the shedding of the old. The shaved head is not merely a matter of uniformity; it is a symbol of stripping away the past, of cutting away identity as it once was, to prepare for the forging of something new.

At the heart of this saying is the idea of the fresh start. In the Marines, a young man or woman arrives carrying their history—habits, failures, fears, and pride. The ritual of shaving the head wipes away those markers, humbling all equally, so that no one clings to the vanity of appearance. In this moment, all are made blank slates, ready to be rewritten. Carey’s musing about changing names only deepens the idea: that a true rebirth is both outward and inward, a complete remaking of self.

The ancients knew this well. Consider the rites of initiation among tribes and cultures across the world. Young warriors were often given new names, new marks, or new scars to signify that they were no longer who they once were. Among the Spartans, the boy who survived his training returned not as a child but as a man, unrecognizable in spirit from what he once had been. The cutting of hair, the giving of names, the ritual of hardship—all were ways of breaking with the past, so the individual could step into a stronger and more unified future.

History also offers us an example in Saint Paul, who was once Saul, persecutor of the early Christians. After his conversion, his name was changed, and his life reborn. No longer did he carry the old identity of Saul, the hunter of men; he became Paul, the teacher of nations. His transformation shows the very essence of Carey’s words: that sometimes, to live truly in a new calling, one must shed not only the trappings of the past, but even the very name that carried them.

Carey’s reflection also reveals the wisdom that identity is malleable. We are not fixed to what we once were; we are capable of reinvention. To join the Marines is to embrace the fire that melts down the old self, so that the forge may hammer out discipline, resilience, and unity. But this lesson extends beyond military life. Any new beginning—be it a career, a move, or the choosing of a new path—requires the courage to strip away what no longer serves us and to accept humility in the face of rebirth.

The lesson for us is clear: do not fear to let go of what you were in order to become what you must be. The shaving of the head is a symbol for us all—that we must be willing to remove the vanities, the masks, and the baggage of the past in order to embrace the present fully. And though our names may remain, we can still carry within us the spirit of a new name, one that marks our rebirth.

Practically, this means embracing rituals of renewal in our own lives. When you step into a new season, do something to mark the break with the past—whether through action, habit, or symbol. Leave behind what no longer defines you. Reintroduce yourself to the world, not with false pride, but with the humility of one starting anew. In this way, you carry into your journey the strength that fresh beginnings provide.

So let us remember Drew Carey’s wisdom: the fresh start requires the cutting away of the old self. The Marines strip the hair to remind the warrior that all stand equal, that the past is gone, and that only the new path matters. We too must learn to shed, to release, and to embrace the rebirths life demands of us. For only those willing to be made new can truly step into their destiny.