“What’s next? When will we move? Where will we live? Will I find a job? Where will the kids go to school? Will we make good friends? Will we be happy there?” …
“What’s next? When will we move? Where will we live? Will I find a job? Where will the kids go to school? Will we make good friends? Will we be happy there?” …
My Navy wife friends and I felt so superior, with our in-your-face nautical-inspired clothing and home decor adorned with anchors and whales and signal flags and boats, as if we were married to Captain Ahab himself. We pitied our poor Army and Air Force comrades, stationed in olive drab Timbuktu, staring out of their base kitchen windows at grain silos. …
“Where’s the mayo?” our daughter asked recently while standing in front of the open refrigerator doors. … “Mayo’s there. Bottom shelf, bang a left at the cheese,” my husband Francis said without looking up from his newspaper. And there it was, a big jar of Hellmans, exactly where he said it would be. If he had been asked to locate a green pepper, almond milk, yogurt, carrots, or Brussels sprouts, we’d still be waiting …
… what would surprise most Americans is that military spouses have faced Depression-era levels of unemployment for decades.