Tuesday, May 15, 2007 at 12:12am
For richer for poorer ... in war and in peace
Column: Life at First Sight
My sister-in-law, Happy, and I share a rather key piece of personal history: If it weren't for war, we might never have been born, let alone been Americans. In my case, a U.S. Army officer fell head over heels for a British girl who'd barely survived the Blitz in London. Happy's life began in Vietnam, when a whole other kind of war was raging.
What we also have in common is that our fathers were both Army career men. But while my experience of military-family life is made up of memories that tend to be rather nostalgic around the edges, Happy's is much more current, and far more difficult. It's part of a sort of subculture that I imagine most of us know very little about.
As a military spouse who has watched her husband be deployed to Iraq, and now to Afghanistan, Happy's everyday realities are an inextricable part of a nation at war. If that nation's looking for heroes (and heroines), it need look no further than the members of today's military families.
Back in the days when my mother kept the home fires burning, or, more accurately, repeatedly started new ones in many different places, there was often an attitude that "if the military had wanted you to have a spouse, they would have issued you one." Finally, in 1984, President Reagan saw fit to proclaim a day in honor of the fact that if anyone deserves to stand up and be honored with our patriotic best, it's a military spouse.
What Happy encounters today is, in many ways, a very far cry from my mother's experience of learning how to live with, and without, the presence of her military husband. For Happy, mother of three, a sense of humor is the best possible companion in a life so fraught with absolutely immense ups and downs. The very stability of her good nature seems to be proof that humans, no matter what you throw at them, can find a way to establish level ground, both under their own feet and those of their children.
It's probably only recently that she can talk in much detail about what those first hours and days were like after Will was sent to Iraq, when she didn't want to answer the phone, after she'd managed to live through the conversation he'd initiated about what they'd do if he never came back. My mother used to recall the dread of a U.S. Army staff car driving on base and heading for someone's home with its ghastly news, and the simultaneous relief and survivor's guilt you felt when it passed by your house.
For all that Happy lived through while Will was deployed, there were some even more interesting — even downright curious — developments in the months after he finally arrived back home safe and sound after his year away. (The days between that call that tells you he's finally coming home and the day you actually see his face are the most excruciating, she says. It would almost be easier not to know, for all the uncertain fear that torments you during those tenuous days.)
Like many of her military-spouse friends, Happy imagined that wives would be the first object of returning troops' attention. Imagine her surprise when a real porcelain toilet and a full bath received more of his first hours home than she did, re-encountered like long-lost loved ones.
The first few forays out on errands with Will behind the wheel were an adventurous experience. While cruising at about 10 miles per hour down the very center of the road is the best way to patrol Iraq's infamous Highway 8 multiple times a day (and night) if you want to avoid IEDs (improvised explosive devices), it's a rather disconcerting driving style to display in the family car. It took a while for Will to leave it behind.
The night the refrigerator's icemaker started making funny noises, her husband's response from the floor above was a regular recon mission, she says, the stairs taken very slowly one at a time, with Will freezing in place and braced for action on each one.
And she learned early on never to climb into bed after he's already asleep. He can't help the inevitable fight-or-flight reaction that months of constant vigilance and inadequate sleep have trained into him. She doesn't want to put him in a position like that. She knows how badly he feels afterward.
Families like hers make sacrifices while their loved one is in active service during war, and continue to make them long afterward. Many bide with situations a lot of us couldn't begin to tolerate, and often even do it gracefully and willingly. A lot of them don't have enough money, while the service they're rendering is truly immeasurable.
This week, my husband and I will head south to visit Happy and her three children where they live near Fort Bragg in North Carolina. We timed our visit as close to Mother's Day as we could, and while we didn't quite make that goal, it was a delightful surprise to discover that we'll arrive during Military Spouse Appreciation Week (May 12-19). She and others have a slew of activities going on, and we'll be corralled into most of them. Being back on a military base will be a nostalgic experience for my husband and me, as we were both Army brats.
With Will back overseas in Afghanistan now, we're glad to have this chance to see Happy and the kids, yet his absence will also make things very bittersweet.
The military commissaries where most spouses shop once had a slogan printed on their bags that said: "Military spouse — the hardest job in the military." As American consciousness ponders how to "support our troops," whatever the prevailing circumstances or political climate, I strongly recommend reaching out to military families. They have to deal with things many of us can't even imagine, often all alone. And they're some of the bravest and most generous people I know.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.
What we also have in common is that our fathers were both Army career men. But while my experience of military-family life is made up of memories that tend to be rather nostalgic around the edges, Happy's is much more current, and far more difficult. It's part of a sort of subculture that I imagine most of us know very little about.
As a military spouse who has watched her husband be deployed to Iraq, and now to Afghanistan, Happy's everyday realities are an inextricable part of a nation at war. If that nation's looking for heroes (and heroines), it need look no further than the members of today's military families.
Back in the days when my mother kept the home fires burning, or, more accurately, repeatedly started new ones in many different places, there was often an attitude that "if the military had wanted you to have a spouse, they would have issued you one." Finally, in 1984, President Reagan saw fit to proclaim a day in honor of the fact that if anyone deserves to stand up and be honored with our patriotic best, it's a military spouse.
What Happy encounters today is, in many ways, a very far cry from my mother's experience of learning how to live with, and without, the presence of her military husband. For Happy, mother of three, a sense of humor is the best possible companion in a life so fraught with absolutely immense ups and downs. The very stability of her good nature seems to be proof that humans, no matter what you throw at them, can find a way to establish level ground, both under their own feet and those of their children.
It's probably only recently that she can talk in much detail about what those first hours and days were like after Will was sent to Iraq, when she didn't want to answer the phone, after she'd managed to live through the conversation he'd initiated about what they'd do if he never came back. My mother used to recall the dread of a U.S. Army staff car driving on base and heading for someone's home with its ghastly news, and the simultaneous relief and survivor's guilt you felt when it passed by your house.
For all that Happy lived through while Will was deployed, there were some even more interesting — even downright curious — developments in the months after he finally arrived back home safe and sound after his year away. (The days between that call that tells you he's finally coming home and the day you actually see his face are the most excruciating, she says. It would almost be easier not to know, for all the uncertain fear that torments you during those tenuous days.)
Like many of her military-spouse friends, Happy imagined that wives would be the first object of returning troops' attention. Imagine her surprise when a real porcelain toilet and a full bath received more of his first hours home than she did, re-encountered like long-lost loved ones.
The first few forays out on errands with Will behind the wheel were an adventurous experience. While cruising at about 10 miles per hour down the very center of the road is the best way to patrol Iraq's infamous Highway 8 multiple times a day (and night) if you want to avoid IEDs (improvised explosive devices), it's a rather disconcerting driving style to display in the family car. It took a while for Will to leave it behind.
The night the refrigerator's icemaker started making funny noises, her husband's response from the floor above was a regular recon mission, she says, the stairs taken very slowly one at a time, with Will freezing in place and braced for action on each one.
And she learned early on never to climb into bed after he's already asleep. He can't help the inevitable fight-or-flight reaction that months of constant vigilance and inadequate sleep have trained into him. She doesn't want to put him in a position like that. She knows how badly he feels afterward.
Families like hers make sacrifices while their loved one is in active service during war, and continue to make them long afterward. Many bide with situations a lot of us couldn't begin to tolerate, and often even do it gracefully and willingly. A lot of them don't have enough money, while the service they're rendering is truly immeasurable.
This week, my husband and I will head south to visit Happy and her three children where they live near Fort Bragg in North Carolina. We timed our visit as close to Mother's Day as we could, and while we didn't quite make that goal, it was a delightful surprise to discover that we'll arrive during Military Spouse Appreciation Week (May 12-19). She and others have a slew of activities going on, and we'll be corralled into most of them. Being back on a military base will be a nostalgic experience for my husband and me, as we were both Army brats.
With Will back overseas in Afghanistan now, we're glad to have this chance to see Happy and the kids, yet his absence will also make things very bittersweet.
The military commissaries where most spouses shop once had a slogan printed on their bags that said: "Military spouse — the hardest job in the military." As American consciousness ponders how to "support our troops," whatever the prevailing circumstances or political climate, I strongly recommend reaching out to military families. They have to deal with things many of us can't even imagine, often all alone. And they're some of the bravest and most generous people I know.
— — —
Phyllis Edgerly Ring, mother of two, is a writer and editor. Her current book project addresses how adults can recognize and nurture children's spiritual nature. She is a former program director at Green Acre Baha'i School in Eliot, Maine, and has been a member of the Baha'i Faith for more than 30 years. Email her at {email columns@bahai.us}columns@bahai.us{/email}. See the website of the Baha'is of the United States for more information. © copyright 2007 by Phyllis Edgerly Ring.