The day after my honeymoon 25 years ago, I moved into my Navy husband’s apartment in Alexandria, Virginia. He carted me around to get a military ID, submit Tricare forms, and obtain base pass stickers for my car, so I’d be an official, card-carrying military spouse. Then he went to work, leaving me home ……
self-image
Redux: The Lame Duck in the Chicken Coop
In my 23 years as a military spouse, we lived in base housing four times, for a total of eleven years. Although living among sterile government buildings enclosed by fences sometimes made me feel like an inmate in an asylum, the social culture in military housing more closely parallels the behavior of chickens in a…
Fast Food, Slow Study
It was an ordinary morning. Or so we thought. The dog was napping in the kitchen corner, my son was making a sandwich, and I was folding laundry. But this day would live in infamy. My son’s plate clunked onto the glass turntable of our microwave. He slammed the door, and began punching the buttons…
New study aims to help military families grieve
It’s so easy to be indifferent. I tend to become absorbed in my own daily minutia. Flossing my teeth, walking the dog, checking emails, paying bills, planning vacations, watching my latest shows — I often forget that there are thousands of families in our military community who are grieving. According to an August 28 update…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets