I didn't have a normal childhood in that I lived in the same house and had the same friends from kindergarten until I graduated from high school. I was born an Army brat on Fort Polk, a run-d0wn base in Louisiana (June 14 is the Army's birthday and I tease my dad about the simple coincidence of taking 'r' out of Army ... hmm). My dear mother recalls that the little hospital was situated on stilts and a cockroach family was there to welcome me into the world. Ours moved nine times, usually every two to three years. Growing up this way wasn't the easiest, as anyone can imagine, so my outlet became writing letters. I was the best pen pal anyone could ask for — looking back, I think this really helped shape my writing skills — but then I'd become impatient when I didn't receive my own snail mail a few days after mine went out. I turned a hat box into a letter holder, which I finally *sigh* emptied before leaving for college.
Once I reached middle school, I became bitter at the military. Trying to get accepted as the new kid in the most awkward two years of your life is AWFUL. I entered seventh grade with braces, short hair and a newfound insecurity. I felt completely alone and decided to pen a note to someone higher up — I think it was the then General of the Army. I told him how cruel it was to make families move so frequently without taking into account how the children would be affected, and suggested four-year tours of duty instead. Looking back now, I realize the Army just wanted to get the right person to the right place at the right time — and it didn't matter if that person (or their children) agreed or not. I'm sure the letter never made it to that guy's desk, but I'm sure whoever did read it had a good laugh. Cruel, cruel, cruel.
Now that I'm older and don't have to worry about moving unless we want to, I realize that I was pretty fortunate to have the childhood I did. I have amazing memories and had one-of-a-kind opportunities. I also think I have more appreciation for those in uniform who serve our country. It infuriates me when people say they "support the troops" but the not the war. That statement is an oxymoron. That's their cause — protecting and defending. They understand the risk of war when they enlist or choose to become an officer and make it their career. It's difficult for families, yes. My father served in the first Gulf War. He was also in the Pentagon on Sept. 11. He's soft spoken, but when certain media outlets or inexperienced politicians go on a rant about pulling out early, look out. The Colonel knows what will happen if we do.
I still get chills when I hear the National Anthem. When we lived on military bases, we had to stop what we were doing — driving, playing a sport, whatever — at sunset each day and hear it played, along with the tune, "retreat."I usually would hear the same before heading to school each morning, except "reveille" was played. And there is nothing like the pomp and circumstance of a military service — for either a change of command or a retirement — or listening to the Army band.
Still, I stutter when strangers ask me where I'm from ... "Um, do you have an hour?"
Once I reached middle school, I became bitter at the military. Trying to get accepted as the new kid in the most awkward two years of your life is AWFUL. I entered seventh grade with braces, short hair and a newfound insecurity. I felt completely alone and decided to pen a note to someone higher up — I think it was the then General of the Army. I told him how cruel it was to make families move so frequently without taking into account how the children would be affected, and suggested four-year tours of duty instead. Looking back now, I realize the Army just wanted to get the right person to the right place at the right time — and it didn't matter if that person (or their children) agreed or not. I'm sure the letter never made it to that guy's desk, but I'm sure whoever did read it had a good laugh. Cruel, cruel, cruel.
Now that I'm older and don't have to worry about moving unless we want to, I realize that I was pretty fortunate to have the childhood I did. I have amazing memories and had one-of-a-kind opportunities. I also think I have more appreciation for those in uniform who serve our country. It infuriates me when people say they "support the troops" but the not the war. That statement is an oxymoron. That's their cause — protecting and defending. They understand the risk of war when they enlist or choose to become an officer and make it their career. It's difficult for families, yes. My father served in the first Gulf War. He was also in the Pentagon on Sept. 11. He's soft spoken, but when certain media outlets or inexperienced politicians go on a rant about pulling out early, look out. The Colonel knows what will happen if we do.
I still get chills when I hear the National Anthem. When we lived on military bases, we had to stop what we were doing — driving, playing a sport, whatever — at sunset each day and hear it played, along with the tune, "retreat."I usually would hear the same before heading to school each morning, except "reveille" was played. And there is nothing like the pomp and circumstance of a military service — for either a change of command or a retirement — or listening to the Army band.
Still, I stutter when strangers ask me where I'm from ... "Um, do you have an hour?"
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