Creative Writing as Therapy
To help me cope with all of the things going on right now, I decided to start writing short essays about what I'm going through. I also learned that there are not many books that are written for or by military wives (most of them were not carried in the Barnes & Noble that I was in -- but they had the Army Wives' Cookbook!). So possibly I will work on these into some sort of informative narrative for those unfamiliar with the trials and tribulations of military spouse-dom.
I'm honestly not sure why I'm posting it here. But felt like doing so anyway. If you read it, please forgive typos and such as I literally just wrote it.
Essay 1: Outranked by a Plane
The plane comes first. It’s a plain (haha) and simple fact that you must know and accept when you date a pilot. And really, it was evident from the beginning of my relationship with David. Our first date was the Naval Aviation Museum at NAS Pensacola. Not long after, he started pilot training and I had to deal with the nose-to-the-grindstone studying. I often chastised David that “The world does not stop turning because you have to study.” This line came around at important holiday times, such as Mother’s Day. I told him that since a mother endures unfathomable pain to push you out of her body, the least a child could do is send a card once a year thanking her for putting up with them.
My mother is a great help in learning and coping with this difficult reality. Being a pilot’s wife herself, she told me not to get stuck into the same scheme she and my father had to play. My father’s commander liked him during training and let him fly an extra flight during the week so he could have a day off to fly from Arizona to Georgia on Friday. He married my mother on Saturday morning, they boarded a plane that afternoon, and my father was flying for pilot training that evening. Needless to say, my parents didn’t get a honeymoon.
However, my mother does harass me. The new-fangled technologies of my days (cheaper/easier phone service such as cells and the marvels of the internet and Skype) makes my long-distance relationship with David a cake-walk compared to what my mom endured. She lived long-distance and received a Sunday phone call from my dad before he was shipped to Arizona. I got to talk to David most of the nights during his survival training (albeit I was the only one he called and spoke to, despite his family trying to wish him a happy birthday). So I inevitably get a “Yep, it’s hard” from my mother every so often.
At first, in my innocent enthusiasm, I joined in the conversations. I learned about pilot training, their tests and checkrides, and nuances. Men frequently did a double-take and asked if I was in the service or what rank I was. I joyously replied, “I’m not.” Girlfriends and wives did not typically stay on top of training the way I did. Most just didn’t care. I found pilot training interesting. For a brief second in high school, I considered being a pilot for the Air Force. Now I’ve committed to supporting one instead as an alternate form of service.
Then I transitioned to getting tired of the conversations. I hung out with the pilots, endured their constant work-related evening conversations, and attempted to entertain myself. This phase of our relationship came with his impending move 900+ miles away. While I was excited for him to move on to the second phase of training in the plane he wanted - and quite proud of his accomplishment, I did not enjoy sitting through enthusiastic conversations about our imminent long-distance relationship status. I wanted him at least to feign being sad to leave me. He did, but not really in a manner that assisted in my coping.
David received his Pilot Wings. He received his Wings in the morning and we had a formal dinner in the evening. It was a wonderfully awkward experience, as his parents hadn’t spoken - let alone seen each other physically - since their divorce. Oh, and his dad brought his new wife. Everyone was on their best behavior, and my father enjoyed observing them. The night before the Winging my father toasted David, saying, “To 08-11 from 08-72." My father received his own pilot Wings from the Air Force nearly forty years prior with the same class number. He was excited to attend the Winging and to see how it had changed over the years.
Let me preface the next part of the story with informing you that David is an introvert. When we first started dating, I had no problem harassing him for muttering too much. The few times he came out with my cohort of graduate students, he spent most of the evening quietly, not trying to get to know any of them, simply because he wasn’t a psychology student and didn’t think he had anything in common with them. David admires my ability to start conversations with strangers and get along so easily when most anyone. I usually say that it depends on my mood, if I feel up to it. My other traditional response is that I am an Agnes Scott woman and knew plenty of Georgia Tech engineers and had been sufficiently trained so that I could make conversation with a wall if needed.
That evening, after the dinner was over, David leapt on stage to make an unscheduled announcement. David asked me to come on stage. In front of a room of people - over 20 newly-Winged Air Force men and their families and plenty of guests of honor - David went down on his knee on stage and proposed to me. He had apparently asked my father’s permission earlier that day while I was using the restroom. Of course I said yes.
I had an inclination that he would propose that weekend, but was shocked at his sporadic flamboyant proposal setting. It was the most opportune time for us to get engaged, as he would be moving for more training before landing at a base for 3 years. I was completing graduate school. It just fit in our lives. His father called the pictures the “Winging/Ringing weekend.” I realized later that the date of the engagement will be easy to remember because it coincided with such a special day in his career. I realized even later that my proposal coincided with a plane: the MC-130’s entrance into our lives.
We are still long-distance, almost a year now of seeing each other at holidays and for weekends. We are planning our wedding and I’m working an internship in a different state as the wedding venue. So I’m struggling to juggle a long-distant relationship, a long-distant event planning, and write a paper to finish my graduate program in a timely manner. I’m slightly stressed (please insert your favorite flavor of sarcasm into this last sentence).
David begins some intermediate training in Arkansas to learn the generic C-130 aircraft before learning more specific details in Albuquerque and then moving to bum-fuck-Egypt Clovis, New Mexico. It was always fun explaining that, especially to people unfamiliar with the military. It’s kind of complicated to keep track of. He speaks to a few people and gets unofficial information that he will probably be allowed to take a day off to travel for his wedding.
Then he talks to his Commander. The Commander chastises him for trying to get married during training. The Commander got married on paper and did a big wedding later, and plenty of military couples told us to do the same. I come from a slightly more traditional Southern family and just couldn’t convince myself to be happy with that scenario. Instead, we decided on a shorter engagement. The Commander put David on his list of good issues to deal with (instead of the bad issues to deal with name list on the opposite side of the white board). In his defense, the Commander was positively willing to work on it for us.
That being said, when David relayed this story to me, I told him it’s a good think I’m not in Arkansas, because I would probably hunt him down and fuss him out. Or go to base personally and inform him how offended I was. Here’s why:
As a girlfriend, the military does not acknowledge you. I attempted to participate in spouse’s groups and was sharply ignored as soon as I corrected them when they asked about my husband. If something happened to David, I was not the name they’d call. No one would come to support me and wives would not bring me cake and supporting hugs. David had to escort me onto base whenever I came to events since I didn’t have a military ID. Higher ranking officers seemed to shrug off my presence, almost immediately assuming I was either a flavor-of-the-month or a pilot-chaser.
I supported David through two years of pilot training, knowing more about the training than most of the wives and half of which being in a long-distance relationship while also working my way through graduate school. I had earned my day. That was all I was asking for: David to have a day off so we could get married on a Saturday. I knew we would probably travel back to Arkansas on Sunday so he could resume training on Monday. We even incorporated the Air Force colors into our wedding: dark blue and silver/gray with orange (for my girly color and it coordinated with autumn colors). I bought a plane from Hobby Lobby for decoration, and I didn’t shoot down David’s idea of using one of his flight helmets for decoration. I’m thinking of buying a cake topper with the groom in a flight suit!
How much more supportive of the Air Force can I be? How much more considerate can I be of his schedule and his limitations? How does all of my efforts simply brush away in the wind so swiftly? I realize that this Commander has never met me or know our wedding details. Yet I am still deeply hurt. I love David, his patriotism and sense of duty, his morals and sense of chivalry, and his intelligence and work ethic. He has accomplished great things, and I can see him being very successful in the Air Force. I try to support him in whatever he endures in his career. And in one little conversation on a base in Arkansas, I find that my passion is squished by one man’s words.
And part of me - a very little part - questions why David did not stick up for me I realize it’s a higher ranking officer and David is the newbie. When I’m the inexperienced one, I speak up so I can talk things out and learn. But David is the opposite and prefers to sit quietly and observe. David was also in a vulnerable position, asking a favor from someone else and probably didn’t want to step on any toes. Or he may have thought the Commander was bitter that David and I were doing what so many others didn’t bother attempting (which now that we’re actually planning I completely understand why, with a slight bit of regret). I can reason and rationalize why David did not stand up for me and my efforts and our wedding. But a little part of me still hurt. And wonders if he ever will.
When I told my mother we probably weren’t going to have a honeymoon, she replied, “I told y’all not to go doing what me and your Daddy did, but you didn’t listen.” Yes, Mom, I did this to myself on purpose. If only I hadn’t fallen in love with a pilot.
I'm honestly not sure why I'm posting it here. But felt like doing so anyway. If you read it, please forgive typos and such as I literally just wrote it.
Essay 1: Outranked by a Plane
The plane comes first. It’s a plain (haha) and simple fact that you must know and accept when you date a pilot. And really, it was evident from the beginning of my relationship with David. Our first date was the Naval Aviation Museum at NAS Pensacola. Not long after, he started pilot training and I had to deal with the nose-to-the-grindstone studying. I often chastised David that “The world does not stop turning because you have to study.” This line came around at important holiday times, such as Mother’s Day. I told him that since a mother endures unfathomable pain to push you out of her body, the least a child could do is send a card once a year thanking her for putting up with them.
My mother is a great help in learning and coping with this difficult reality. Being a pilot’s wife herself, she told me not to get stuck into the same scheme she and my father had to play. My father’s commander liked him during training and let him fly an extra flight during the week so he could have a day off to fly from Arizona to Georgia on Friday. He married my mother on Saturday morning, they boarded a plane that afternoon, and my father was flying for pilot training that evening. Needless to say, my parents didn’t get a honeymoon.
However, my mother does harass me. The new-fangled technologies of my days (cheaper/easier phone service such as cells and the marvels of the internet and Skype) makes my long-distance relationship with David a cake-walk compared to what my mom endured. She lived long-distance and received a Sunday phone call from my dad before he was shipped to Arizona. I got to talk to David most of the nights during his survival training (albeit I was the only one he called and spoke to, despite his family trying to wish him a happy birthday). So I inevitably get a “Yep, it’s hard” from my mother every so often.
At first, in my innocent enthusiasm, I joined in the conversations. I learned about pilot training, their tests and checkrides, and nuances. Men frequently did a double-take and asked if I was in the service or what rank I was. I joyously replied, “I’m not.” Girlfriends and wives did not typically stay on top of training the way I did. Most just didn’t care. I found pilot training interesting. For a brief second in high school, I considered being a pilot for the Air Force. Now I’ve committed to supporting one instead as an alternate form of service.
Then I transitioned to getting tired of the conversations. I hung out with the pilots, endured their constant work-related evening conversations, and attempted to entertain myself. This phase of our relationship came with his impending move 900+ miles away. While I was excited for him to move on to the second phase of training in the plane he wanted - and quite proud of his accomplishment, I did not enjoy sitting through enthusiastic conversations about our imminent long-distance relationship status. I wanted him at least to feign being sad to leave me. He did, but not really in a manner that assisted in my coping.
David received his Pilot Wings. He received his Wings in the morning and we had a formal dinner in the evening. It was a wonderfully awkward experience, as his parents hadn’t spoken - let alone seen each other physically - since their divorce. Oh, and his dad brought his new wife. Everyone was on their best behavior, and my father enjoyed observing them. The night before the Winging my father toasted David, saying, “To 08-11 from 08-72." My father received his own pilot Wings from the Air Force nearly forty years prior with the same class number. He was excited to attend the Winging and to see how it had changed over the years.
Let me preface the next part of the story with informing you that David is an introvert. When we first started dating, I had no problem harassing him for muttering too much. The few times he came out with my cohort of graduate students, he spent most of the evening quietly, not trying to get to know any of them, simply because he wasn’t a psychology student and didn’t think he had anything in common with them. David admires my ability to start conversations with strangers and get along so easily when most anyone. I usually say that it depends on my mood, if I feel up to it. My other traditional response is that I am an Agnes Scott woman and knew plenty of Georgia Tech engineers and had been sufficiently trained so that I could make conversation with a wall if needed.
That evening, after the dinner was over, David leapt on stage to make an unscheduled announcement. David asked me to come on stage. In front of a room of people - over 20 newly-Winged Air Force men and their families and plenty of guests of honor - David went down on his knee on stage and proposed to me. He had apparently asked my father’s permission earlier that day while I was using the restroom. Of course I said yes.
I had an inclination that he would propose that weekend, but was shocked at his sporadic flamboyant proposal setting. It was the most opportune time for us to get engaged, as he would be moving for more training before landing at a base for 3 years. I was completing graduate school. It just fit in our lives. His father called the pictures the “Winging/Ringing weekend.” I realized later that the date of the engagement will be easy to remember because it coincided with such a special day in his career. I realized even later that my proposal coincided with a plane: the MC-130’s entrance into our lives.
We are still long-distance, almost a year now of seeing each other at holidays and for weekends. We are planning our wedding and I’m working an internship in a different state as the wedding venue. So I’m struggling to juggle a long-distant relationship, a long-distant event planning, and write a paper to finish my graduate program in a timely manner. I’m slightly stressed (please insert your favorite flavor of sarcasm into this last sentence).
David begins some intermediate training in Arkansas to learn the generic C-130 aircraft before learning more specific details in Albuquerque and then moving to bum-fuck-Egypt Clovis, New Mexico. It was always fun explaining that, especially to people unfamiliar with the military. It’s kind of complicated to keep track of. He speaks to a few people and gets unofficial information that he will probably be allowed to take a day off to travel for his wedding.
Then he talks to his Commander. The Commander chastises him for trying to get married during training. The Commander got married on paper and did a big wedding later, and plenty of military couples told us to do the same. I come from a slightly more traditional Southern family and just couldn’t convince myself to be happy with that scenario. Instead, we decided on a shorter engagement. The Commander put David on his list of good issues to deal with (instead of the bad issues to deal with name list on the opposite side of the white board). In his defense, the Commander was positively willing to work on it for us.
That being said, when David relayed this story to me, I told him it’s a good think I’m not in Arkansas, because I would probably hunt him down and fuss him out. Or go to base personally and inform him how offended I was. Here’s why:
As a girlfriend, the military does not acknowledge you. I attempted to participate in spouse’s groups and was sharply ignored as soon as I corrected them when they asked about my husband. If something happened to David, I was not the name they’d call. No one would come to support me and wives would not bring me cake and supporting hugs. David had to escort me onto base whenever I came to events since I didn’t have a military ID. Higher ranking officers seemed to shrug off my presence, almost immediately assuming I was either a flavor-of-the-month or a pilot-chaser.
I supported David through two years of pilot training, knowing more about the training than most of the wives and half of which being in a long-distance relationship while also working my way through graduate school. I had earned my day. That was all I was asking for: David to have a day off so we could get married on a Saturday. I knew we would probably travel back to Arkansas on Sunday so he could resume training on Monday. We even incorporated the Air Force colors into our wedding: dark blue and silver/gray with orange (for my girly color and it coordinated with autumn colors). I bought a plane from Hobby Lobby for decoration, and I didn’t shoot down David’s idea of using one of his flight helmets for decoration. I’m thinking of buying a cake topper with the groom in a flight suit!
How much more supportive of the Air Force can I be? How much more considerate can I be of his schedule and his limitations? How does all of my efforts simply brush away in the wind so swiftly? I realize that this Commander has never met me or know our wedding details. Yet I am still deeply hurt. I love David, his patriotism and sense of duty, his morals and sense of chivalry, and his intelligence and work ethic. He has accomplished great things, and I can see him being very successful in the Air Force. I try to support him in whatever he endures in his career. And in one little conversation on a base in Arkansas, I find that my passion is squished by one man’s words.
And part of me - a very little part - questions why David did not stick up for me I realize it’s a higher ranking officer and David is the newbie. When I’m the inexperienced one, I speak up so I can talk things out and learn. But David is the opposite and prefers to sit quietly and observe. David was also in a vulnerable position, asking a favor from someone else and probably didn’t want to step on any toes. Or he may have thought the Commander was bitter that David and I were doing what so many others didn’t bother attempting (which now that we’re actually planning I completely understand why, with a slight bit of regret). I can reason and rationalize why David did not stand up for me and my efforts and our wedding. But a little part of me still hurt. And wonders if he ever will.
When I told my mother we probably weren’t going to have a honeymoon, she replied, “I told y’all not to go doing what me and your Daddy did, but you didn’t listen.” Yes, Mom, I did this to myself on purpose. If only I hadn’t fallen in love with a pilot.