Mary Tyler Moore on Courage

            Why are military families stronger than other families?  The answer is surprising.  We aren’t.  We are no more resilient, inventive, or thick-skinned than any other wife, or husband, or girlfriend, or child out there.  We have been given the opportunity to flex those muscles more often than the average relationship.  And just like any other muscle, the more you condition it, the more weight it withstands, and the more stress it adapts to.  No person can anticipate when the tough times will hit.  In no situation in life will tragedy or hardship present itself to you before it happens, or very rarely anyway.  So, most people move through their lives oblivious to the coming thunderstorms. 
            Us military folk, the ones of us dumb enough to choose to raise our families here, have an advantage over the ordinary families.  Ordinary is not meant as an insult; in fact, I envy some parts of ordinary life we don’t have access to.  We military people are able to brace for the sheer of the winds about to blow against our children and marriages.  Whether it is a gift or a curse is solely the unique opinion of the family with their faces to the storm. 
            The physical conditioning of the military's service members is no vanity.  These warriors run and lift every day knowing that it may be necessary to carry a wounded buddy on their backs to safety.  That event rarely happens at the best of times.  It usually arises through a tempest of bullets and blood.  If they aren’t strong enough for the fight, someone may be left behind.  So, the military imposes strict guidelines for strength and speed and dexterity, insuring that all warriors are equipped and accustomed to the strain that may be placed on their shoulders.
            My family works the same way.  We see that the fight is coming.  We say goodbye over and over again for trainings, and schools, and NTC’s, and PCSes.  We learn to balance the delicate emotional needs of our children and pets and ourselves (some days we are better at this than others).  The 24-hour staff duty shifts and endless days at motor pool for the service members allow us at home to strengthen our emotional fortitude.   If it weren’t for these exercises, no one would be able to say goodbye for months and years on end without losing their minds eventually. 
            Yes.  All the crap, and by crap I mean the seemingly stupid reasons the military sends our loved ones away, is as much a strengthening of our skills as theirs.  It still sucks.  It still hurts.  It still stretches us to our breaking points as families.  But imagine how quickly our muscles would fatigue during the tough times if we had never before used them?
            I am no fitness guru, as demonstrated by my flabby thighs and dimply butt cheeks, but just as our service members train themselves to eventually carry the weight of a friend on their backs, we must train our families to carry the weight in the absence of their fathers, mothers, and siblings.  We may not actually carry anyone out of the path of bullets, but the consequences for not being ready for the fight are just as dire. 
            Teach your kids to be tough.  Teach your kids to control their inclinations to be dramatic.  Teach your kids to be helpful.  Never tell them not to feel sad or worried.  Show them, by example that although life can be overwhelmingly difficult at times, the storm always passes.  It can’t rain forever.  If you lay in the gutter during the thunderstorm you will drown.  If you teach yourself and challenge yourself to act with courage, then you will be ready, your muscles will not snap free from their bones as you stand against the gales of deployments and TDY’s.  You will be okay.  Your children will emerge stronger, more resilient, and forever bettered by the fact that they withstood a torrent of adversity...or at least I think so...  (;

Pain nourishes courage. You can't be brave if you've only had wonderful things happen to you. 

-- Mary Tyler Moore

Tom Kah Gai Travel Tips for the Antsy

           It has begun.  The dash to the finish just before another PCS has commenced.  I have successfully purged the kid’s rooms of broken toys, annoying battery operated gadgets that I have been searching for an excuse to lose, and any distasteful items of clothing I have been unsuccessful at “misplacing” have been removed in an effort to bring our weight allowance down. 
            I often wonder how regular people manage to live out entire lifetimes without moving.  How do they mange all their crap?  It must just pile up in corners and get stuffed into the recesses of the attic.  To me, that sounds like a nightmare.  I lived in the same town all of my life, with the few exceptions being my attempts to live in Texas with my mentally unstable mother for several months.  I only remember my Dad and Stepmother moving once.  My grandfather still lives in the same house I have always known.  My Nana and my Aunt Karen moved once — to the house next door to the one they were already living in. 
            The concept of staying put shouldn’t be such a foreign one, but it is as distant a memory as the seasons (Hawaii has no seasons, unless you count rainy and very rainy as distinct changes in a climate).  Chris and I sit and daydream about buying a home somewhere (we aren’t picky anymore after moving six times), and building a chicken coop, and planting a garden, and dying there, and rotting before our children realize we are missing.
            It all sounds so very romantic, but whether or not we will be able to stand being in one place more than three years, remains to be tested.  I put my money on change winning over stability.  Some switch gets flipped after living as a gypsy for as long as we have, and you find yourself antsy for new experiences. 
            I love exploring unfamiliar streets and discovering new restaurants and quaint used bookstores.  I like that no one knows who I am and that I can recreate myself every time we try out a new location.  Of course, my true identity manages to poke its annoying little head out eventually, but it is always fun trying to be someone interesting while it lasts.
            So, if you’ve never lived somewhere new, good for you.  You will never have that aching boredom that sets in after several years in one spot.  And if you are a wanderer like us, happy traveling.  Send me some pointers on where to find a good bowl of Tom Kah Gai in Arizona.