Run, run, fast as you can

I've noticed that runners who jog along the Embarcadero don't typically wear reflective safety belts. Runners who jog on a military base are required to wear them or they will be fined if stopped by the Military Police. Max, I guess out of habit, wears one wherever he runs. He has always tried to make me wear one too, but if it's not dark out, I really have to draw the line.

In the fall of '08, we took our son who was four months old at the time, on his first train ride from Quantico to NYC. During our stay, I had a little PS 277 reunion with a couple of my former teacher friends - one of whom had a baby boy the day before I had mine.

We were visiting and watching the babies who were next to each other on a blanket. Max had been out for a jog. In the middle of our visit, Max arrives through the front door of my friend's apartment where we were staying, wearing not a reflective belt(which is a little more understated), but a reflective vest!

We all burst out laughing picturing him running through Central Park, in the middle of the day, sporting his trustworthy reflective vest.

School's in session

Thanks to everyone who donated school supplies. Max's company along with the villagers of Shah Wali Kot, recently opened a school. This school is a school for boys. They are in the process of opening a school for girls.

Thanks for your generosity. Without the supplies, Max said that the children would just be begging for candy from the soldiers from the side of the road.

Camper shells and parallel parking

As I was driving yesterday, I noticed in front me of an exact replica of Max's truck, which is sitting up at Ft. Lewis with its battery disconnected while he's deployed.

I was at a stoplight behind this silver Dodge truck (whose camper shell was actually a bit smaller than Max's - many of his colleagues made fun of Max for his camper shell but he loved how much he could fit in the back of his truck - I, on the other hand, thought it made parallel parking terribly inconvenient), remembering the two years that I drove Max's truck around Savannah, GA.

One evening I was driving Max and a few guys from his battalion to Broughton Street (downtown Savannah). After spotting a perfect parking place, I pulled up to situate myself in the parallel parking position. One of the guys started laughing, totally underestimating my parking capability in this truck. "This is a breeze," I laughed, glaring back at him in the rear view mirror, "I have nothing but room." "It's true, she can drive this truck pretty well," Max defended me.

I would have said "very well" over "pretty well," though.

Sure enough, I eased right into that parking place. "Wow, you really can drive this truck," that same guy said, surprised. "Of course I can, I learned to drive in San Francisco. You should have seen me with the stick shift on Divisadero Street (a very steep hill for those readers not familiar with SF)."

Another time, I was leaving the parking lot of my school when I noticed my principal waving behind me. I gave him a wave back as I pulled out to the main road. The next day, in the faculty meeting after school, he, in front of everyone, pointed to me and said, "Georgie, was that you driving that enormous truck I was behind yesterday? You actually drive that thing?" Feeling my face turn red as everyone else looked my way, I held up my keys and said, "I sure do."

In honor of the huge, reliable, gas-guzzling truck, I've posted a photo taken by my friend Brook, who proclaimed that we indeed had to document the truck's existence for our memory book....and for those who might never believe that I actually drove it.

High five

U.S. Army Spc. Jesus B. Fernandez greets children from Angla Kala village during a unit visit in Afghanistan's Kunar Province, Feb. 6, 2010. International Security Assistance Force troops regularly meet with village elders to improve communications between residents and government officials. Fernandez is an assistant team leader assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team.
U.S. Army Photo by Staff Sgt. Gary A. Witte

The list

Someone sent me this list of what not to say to a military wife. I don't know who actually wrote it and it's a little dated. I must admit, the list made me laugh out loud. However, these are not my personal opinions. I genuinely appreciate questions and curiosity...it's how we learn from one another (I am a teacher, after all!).

I wanted to share the list just for fun - again, this is meant to be light-hearted (at least in my opinion), these are not my personal responses or beliefs:


1. "Aren't you afraid that he'll be killed?"
(This one ranks in at number one on the "duh" list. Of course we're afraid. We're terrified. The thought always lingers at the backs of our minds —but thanks brilliant, you just brought it back to the front. Maybe next you can go ask someone with cancer if they're scared of dying.)

2. "I don't know how you manage. I don't think I could do it."
(This is intended to be a compliment. Though, its just a little annoying. Here's why: it's not like all of us military wives have been
dreaming since childhood of the day we'd get to be anxious single moms who carry cell phones with us to the bathroom and in the shower. We're not made of some mysterious matter that makes us more capable, we just got asked to take on a challenging job. So we rose to the challenge and found the strength to make sacrifices.)

3. "At least he's not in Iraq."
(This is the number one most annoying comment for those whose husbands are in Afghanistan. What do they think is happening in Afghanistan? An international game of golf?

4. "Do you think he'll get to come home for Christmas/anniversary/birthday/birth of a child/wedding/family reunion, etc?"
(Don't you watch the news? No! They don't get to come home for any of these things. Please don't ask again.)

5. "What are you going to do to keep yourself busy while he's gone?"
(Short answer: Try to keep my sanity. Maybe there's a military wife out there who gets bored when her husband leaves. For the rest of us, those with and without children, we find ourselves having to be two people. That keeps us plenty busy. We do get lonely, but we don't get bored, and drinking massive amounts of wine always helps keep me busy.)

6. "How much longer does he have until he can get out?"
(This one is annoying to many of us whether our husbands are deployed or not. Many of our husbands aren't counting down the days until they "can" get out. Many of them keep signing back up again and again because they actually love what they do or they VOLUNTEER AGAIN and AGAIN to go back to Iraq b/c there is work that needs to be done.)

7. "This deployment shouldn't be so bad, now that you're used to it."
(We do learn coping skills. We figure out ways to make life go smoother while the guys are gone. But it never gets "easy" and the bullets and bombs don't skip over our guys just because they've been there before. The worry never goes away.)

8. "My husband had to go to Europe for business once for three weeks. I totally know what you're going through."
(This one is similar to number two. Do not equate your husband's three week trip to London/Omaha/Tokyo/etc. with a 6-15 month or more deployment to a war zone. Aside from the obvious time difference, nobody shot at your husband or tried to blow him up with an I.E.D., your husband could call home pretty much any time he wanted to, and he flew comfortably on a commercial plane. We do not feel bonded to you in the slightest because of this comment and, if anything, we probably resent you a bit for it. Comparing a 12 month combat deployment to a few weeks business trip is like comparing a crappy Hyundai Excel with a Mercedes convertible.)

9. "Wow you must miss him?"
(This one also gets another big "duh". Of course we miss our men. There are some wives who do not and they're now divorced.)

10. "Where is he exactly? Where is that?"
(I don't expect non-military folks to be able to find Anbar Province on a map, but they should know by now that it's in Iraq. Likewise, know that Kabul and Kandahar are in Afghanistan. Know that Muqtada al Sadr is the insurgent leader of the Mahdi Army in Iraq and that Sadr City is his home area. Know that Iran is a major threat to our country and that it is located between Afghanistan and Iraq. Our country has been at war in Afghanistan for seven years and at war in Iraq for five years. These basic facts are not secrets, they're on the news every night and in the papers every day —and on maps everywhere.)

11. "Well, he signed up for it, so it's his own fault whatever happens over there.
(Yes, ignorant, he did sign up. Each and every day he protects your right to make stupid comments like that. He didn't sign up and ask to be hit by anything, he signed up to protect his country. Oh, and by the way, he asked me to tell you that "You're welcome." He's still fighting for your freedom.)

12. "Don't you miss sex! I couldn't do it!"
(hmmm, no i don't miss sex. i'm a robot. seriously…military spouses learn quickly that our relationships must be founded on something greater than sex. We learn to appreciate the important things, like simply hearing their voices, seeing their faces, being able to have dinner together every night. And the hard truth is, most relationships probably couldn't withstand 12 months of sex deprivation.)

13. "Well in my opinion….."
(Stop right there. Yo, I didn't ask for you your personal political opinions. Hey, I love a heated political debate, but not in the grocery store, not in Jamba Juice, not at Nordstrom, not in a bar when I'm out with my girls trying to forget the war, and CERTAINLY NOT AT WORK. We tell co-workers about deployments so when we have to spend lunch hours running our asses off doing errands and taking care of the house, dog, and kids, they have an understanding. We do not tell co-workers and colleagues because we are giving an invitation to ramble about politics or because we so eagerly want to hear how much they hate the President, esp. while we're trying to heat up our lean cuisines in the crappy office microwaves.)

Last, but not least….

14. "OH, that's horrible…I'm so sorry!"
(He's doing his job and he's a badass. Don't be sorry. Be appreciative and please take a moment out of your comfortable American lives to realize that our MARINES/soldiers/airmen/coasties/sailors fight the wars abroad so those wars stay abroad.)

Hearts and breadsticks

With all of the Valentine's Day festivities in the air, I thought I'd share one of my most memorable Valentine's Day stories as an Army wife. Was I with my husband? Of course not, he was deployed. I was living in Savannah; my friend whom I met teaching also had a deployed husband. She and I tutored small groups of children after school at this center in Savannah's Southside. The Southside of Savannah consists of Hunter Army Airfield, housing complexes and quite a few strip malls.

When we finished tutoring, right around dinner time, my friend Nicole and I figured we should go out to dinner for Valentine's Day. Since I lived downtown and she lived off of Highway 17, we would have to settle for a restaurant nearby the center, which did not leave us with too many Zagat rated choices. Where, oh where, would we end up?

Just standing there in front of our cars trying decide where to go, we gazed out toward the lit up signs for Taco Bell and Wendy's. It was really a no-brainer, we were in the fast food capital of Savannah. We would have our Valentine's Day dinner at none other than: the Olive Garden. Being pregnant at the time, the breadsticks were calling my name.

Needless to say, Nicole and I were among hundreds of V-Day celebrators at the Olive Garden. The parking lot was jam-packed. We put our name down, held our "your table is ready" light up thingamajig, and talked about how we met our respective husbands, all while doing some beyond spectacular people watching! Much to my surprise, the wait flew by and we were seated and I was enjoying my breadsticks before I knew it. I can't speak for my friend, but reminiscing about how my husband and I met made me forget, even just temporarily, that he was away.

I've lost track of the holidays I've actually spent with my husband, he's been deployed for so much of our marriage. But, my Valentine's Day at the Olive Garden is etched into my memory bank forever. Arguably my favorite part of the evening was when we were asked if we'd like to buy each other roses from the person selling them around the restaurant.

To good friends and good breadsticks...Happy Valentine's Day!

Memories of parachutes

U,S. Army Rangers parachute from a USAF C-130 Hercules transport aircraft during a mass tactical airborne operation at Fryar Drop Zone, Fort Benning Georgia. Rangers are specialists at insertion by parachute. Ranger battalions have carried out combat drops in Grenada, Panama, Afghanistan and Iraq.
photo by Staff Sgt. Jason B. Baker, USASOC PAO

It must be all of the memories conjured up from writing my book because lately, I've been flashing back to my first year as an Army wife. We lived in Savannah while Max was stationed at Hunter Army Airfield with 1/75 (1st Ranger Battalion). Since military life was so new to me then, quite a few of my experiences were actually pretty funny -- like the time Max wanted me to watch one of his jumps (this meant they were parachuting out of planes for training). I had seen him fast rope from a plane before but never parachute.

Of course, the jump would take place way past my bedtime. I got used to his intense training schedule especially because I never had to be a part of it...until I agreed to watch his jump, that is. It was on a weekday - I think it was a Thursday, so I had to teach the next day. My plan was to drive to the airfield (thankfully a close drive from my house), watch him parachute and drive home...in my pajamas, of course.

I drove Max's big silver Dodge Ram around Savannah and handled it quite well, if I may say so myself. He must have gotten a ride from one of his colleagues that night because I, at 11:00 in the evening, drove that truck to the post. No clue where I was actually supposed to park (even though Max was convinced he gave me perfect directions), I asked the front gate guard where the road to the airfield was so I could park to watch the parachuters. He pointed me in the right direction and soon enough, down a pitch-black road I was driving, when all of a sudden, I saw several other trucks (many military people seem to own trucks) parked with their headlights on.

I figured this was where I needed to be. While driving the truck seemed to go smoothly, parking it was always a challenge. Not to mention, all of these guys were sitting in the back of their trucks...I didn't want to be the "girl who can't drive the truck." Luckily, having learned to drive in a city, I can park pretty well. I was thrilled that my parking skills didn't fail me that night.

Quite proud of myself, I turned off my engine. But it was freezing so I had to turn it back on for the heat! Max told me that two companies were jumping that night which meant that the other people watching (who were all men) were Rangers who either already jumped or were going to another day. I kept alternating my eyes from the clock to the sky, waiting for the planes.

Sure enough, right on schedule, the first plane flew overhead. Within seconds, I could see the parachutes open up into the night sky. It was too dark to see bodies but it was amazing to see all of the parachutes (one after the other, plane after plane) fall to the ground. I counted the third plane's fourth jumper and really convinced myself that I saw Max. Content that I followed through and excited to have seen these much talked about jumps, I made a u-turn and headed off post and home to bed.

I woke up when Max came home later that night. "I saw you jump. It was fantastic," I complimented. "Well, you actually saw Bravo and Charlie companies. It turns out we're scheduled for another night. You can come again to watch Alpha Company now that you know where to go. Except our jump is scheduled for a little later at night."

Hmmm, he must have forgotten to give me that memo since I was planning to watch that night.

I fell back asleep smiling and thinking to myself - well, if you've seen one jump, you've seen 'em all.

I did, of course, eventually get to see the real Max jump.