Young men are falling behind in American society and, quite simply, need an Odyssey. You’ve already heard the background: They’re less likely than women to go to college, and they’re more likely to be incarcerated, overdose or commit suicide.

The atomization of American society and rise of technology have been strong drivers in that slide, but they’re not the only ones. Theories abound about the way we’ve structured our educational systems, about the number (or lack thereof) of role models and about the way young men are more hesitant to ask for help.

As Christopher Nolan’s wildly successful film “The Odyssey” continues to generate Oscar buzz, it’s worth considering the deeper meaning of this ancient saga, especially in light of what ails male adolescents: Young men need a challenge, an Odyssey of their own, where they can embark on a journey that will challenge them, where they feel like they have skin in the game and where they have mentors who can help guide them through the throes of life. 

I was personally falling behind in my own life in the nascent days of the War on Terrorism. For me, the Marine Corps was my Odyssey.

After watching Nolan’s film, itself based on Homer’s epic poem, I found striking parallels between its messages and my Marine Corps experience. I’m sure many in the military and veteran community feel the same. The Odyssey is ultimately about leaving and change, both from the perspective of the traveler and one’s community.

It started for me at Parris Island. A scared, unmoored teenager with the wherewithal — albeit clouded and naïve — to do something bigger with my own life, something challenging. Parris Island is where I met my own Cyclops, discovered the pain of leaving loved ones and where my mettle was tested time and again for 91 long, hard days and nights.

After running the gauntlet, which culminates in the 54-hour final test in the Crucible, a series of endurance tests, combat maneuvers and team-building exercises under duress with little sleep, I became a Marine. I still remember in vivid detail crossing a windswept causeway flanked on both sides by salt marshes as our drill instructor belted out a choir-like cadence and the early morning sun shimmered throughout the estuaries.

When my family came to my graduation and took me home for the better part of three weeks, it was obvious I had changed. And so had my perception. I was no longer home and would soon be on my way to another Odyssey: the Iraq war.

There, my life would change in a profound way I still cannot understand. Lucky for me, I had no Penelope, but others did, and the suitors were soon in the mix. I watched families fall apart, infidelity, questionable timing of births and bankruptcies, while we toiled away in a faraway land in a war that had no end in sight.

My nostos, or homecoming, eventually happened. I returned to a country I thought I didn’t recognize, but the truth was, I didn’t recognize myself. The miasma of stimuli, fear and confusion is hard to make sense of, and perhaps I never will.

We should encourage men to embark on odysseys in any number of places: college, trade schools, the military or some other form of service. An Odyssey, when fully embraced, allows someone to discover a deeper sense of self and purpose when they aren’t surrounded by parents, teachers or friends.

That sounds a lot like what we know young men need these days. I look back now and see how my Marine Corps experiences shaped me into who I am today, and ironically, ultimately saved me.

I guess you could say my Odyssey in the Marine Corps was a lifelong gift.

Alex Luchsinger (aluchsinger@elon.edu) is an associate professor of journalism at Elon University in North Carolina. A recipient of the Purple Heart, he is the author of the forthcoming memoir “Letters from Parris” about his experience in the U.S. Marine Corps.