eMail to the Front

by Alyssa Day

  Geography and Friendships; Relocation, Relocation, Relocation

  July

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: I lost another friend today.

  This has to be a new record. Only a few months after we moved from Florida to Washington, and I've already lost my first friend. Connor's godmother, no less. I have called and called and e-mailed and e-mailed—nothing. When I finally reached her, it was the same old story, "Oh, I've been busy."

  I know we lose friends every time we move, but I've never had one I considered such a close friend drop off so fast before. It really hurts. So I've been pretty sad and melancholy, today. Friends are so precious and important; it really hurts to lose one.

  I've been thinking about the geography/friendship thing. With unlimited long-distance phone calls, and e-mail—which is free—you wouldn't think distance on a map would be so hard on relationships. But every time we move, we lose more friends. Of my four closest friends from law school in Columbus, only Andy stays in touch.

  In fact, from 15 years of living in Columbus, I can count on the fingers of one hand the friends I still have. That's kind of pathetic. Even my maid of honor from our wedding never calls me. Whenever I call her, whether it has been four weeks or four months since we last talked, she always says, Oh, I was just going to call you."

  Right.

  When we left Florida for here, same thing. I have high hopes for a few, though. Karen, Virginia, and Kelly all call and write.

  The great thing about the Navy, at least, is that even though we have to move so much, we take some of our friends with us! Malia and Jason moved here before us, so I actually knew somebody. And I'm meeting lots of wonderful new friends through the spouse's club.

  Still, it gets harder to keep trying to make friends, when you wonder how long they'll last.

  I'm sorry I'm so melancholy today. I miss you so much and am feeling kind of lonely and abandoned. I'll try to cheer up and write more later.

  Military life can be very isolating in one way and very community-oriented in another. I've never been in such a close group that supports each other as well as squadron families do. The spouses welcome you warmly, invite you into existing friendships, and share their experiences and advice. They bring meals to families with new babies and flowers to those facing sickness or death. They organize over-the-hump parties, weekly coffees, get-togethers for the kids, and social gatherings. You never have to be alone, if you take the opportunity to become involved.

  The isolation comes into play in your friendships with civilians. Sometimes it's hard to explain what you're going through, without feeling like you're whining. It's rough trying to make close friends at work, when you know you may be moving to the other side of the country or halfway around the world in a matter of months. It's inevitable that many of these friendships will fall by the wayside, victims of geography and busy lives.

  Before Judd's second deployment, we moved to a city halfway between north Whidbey Island (where Judd works when he's not on deployment) and Seattle (where I work). We each face about a three-hour round-trip commute daily. Mine is sometimes a little less, if traffic is light. In Seattle, it almost never is.

  While it was great to be able to work in my field, which I couldn't do on Whidbey, and I found good friends among my new colleagues, I missed out on the social camaraderie of the squadron spouses, due to the distance. I missed a lot. Nothing is quite the same as being able to talk to people who understand, because they're going through the same thing.

  It's a feeling of relief seeping through your bones, as if your very body relaxes into the warmth of acceptance and understanding. I don't have to explain why a late homecoming—an extra nineteen days on top of six months—is such a very big deal. I don't have to hear: "My husband knows better than to call me at 4 a.m."

  For me, it's a split-personality existence sometimes. I have wonderful friends in the military community, and I have amazing friends in my civilian life. It's just that I don't usually see them both at the same gatherings.

  And I've had to come to terms with leaving some of them behind when we move. It always hurts. But true friendships transcend distance.

  Thank goodness for e-mail.

  15

  Military Spouses’ Clubs: Sharing Tears, Laughter…and Quilt Squares

  August

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: Recipe cards and other foreign concepts

  I keep getting reminders from the OSC that they need my quilt square and recipe card.

  They must be kidding.

  I feel a little like I've time-traveled back to the 1950s here. I've never known anyone in my entire life who quilts or trades recipe cards. It wasn't really part of the curriculum in law school: "Yes, Miss Holliday, please analyze the First Amendment and present your recipe for chicken casserole."

  But, when in Rome ... So I thought I'd give it a shot. The problem is, I've never even walked into a fabric store in my adult life. I have a vague memory of going with Mom once when I was a kid, but she made that hideous three-piece suit out of red-and-white-checked fabric that I had to wear to school, and I looked like a red-haired tablecloth. The whole thing was pretty traumatic.

  I've never been back.

  So, anyway, the fabric store. You don't buy fabric by the inch or the foot or any normal measurement; it's something like by the bolt, or by the hectare. I'd probably wind up buying enough material to slipcover your plane, because I'd be too embarrassed to admit I didn't know one bolt equals six miles in fabric terms.

  Then what?? I have those antique quilts, and they're sewn in beautiful hand-stitching. Do I have to go buy sewing needles and thread, too? There's a WHOLE AISLE of different kinds of needles.

  And recipe cards. I know you're cracking up over that one. The last time I got creative in the kitchen, it was to see if Strawberry Pop-Tarts really do catch on fire in the toaster, like Dave Barry said. (They do.)

  Do you think if I bought some chocolate chips, cut the recipe off the back of the package, and glued it on the card, it would be OK? I've never actually baked them, but they must be good if it's on the package, right?

  I can't believe I'm getting an inferiority complex over quilt squares. I really need to get a job.

  I really need to get a life.

  To: Alesia

  From: Judd

  Subject: You promised not to set the kitchen on fire again.

  Please—no more Pop-Tart experiments. We talked about that. And remember to cook everything on LOW HEAT.

  AND remember: I put the fire extinguisher on top of the refrigerator before I left.

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: New friends

  I don't know why I was so worried about the whole quilt thing. I went to a meeting of the OSC, and everyone was wonderful! So kind and gracious, and willing to share tips for how to manage six months of deployment. (There are other people who don't know how to quilt, either, so I didn't feel like a total buffoon.)

  p.s. I am not going to set the kitchen on fire again. I can't believe you bring up every teeny mistake. You put the flames out right away, anyway.

  (I made up a list of instructions for the fire extinguisher in big, bold type and taped it on the fridge, just in case.)

  The spouses' clubs are a wonderful source of support and camaraderie all the time, but especially during deployment. Like any social organization, the groups are a reflection of their members. The OSC for Judd’s squadron on Whidbey had the advantage of having caring people (who were amazingly organized) running it. So, there were planned activities all throughout deployment; gatherings for the kids, over-the-hump parties, and many informal activities that made sure you never had to be alone for long, if you didn't want to be.

  Carrie, Robin, Dawn, and Margo were just a few of many wonderful people I met through the OSC, and I really enjoyed the events that the kids and I attended.

  In spite of that
unhealthy obsession with quilt squares.

  16

  Phone Calls at 4 AM

  August

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: I'm so glad you called.

  I told you it doesn't matter if it's 4 a.m. here when you get a chance to get to a phone. I'd much rather have you wake me up than not hear from you at all. It has been a week and a half since your last phone call. Almost two weeks since your last e-mail. Please don't waste a single second of our time to talk saying you're sorry for waking me up! I miss you so much!

  To: Alesia

  From: Judd

  Subject: I miss you too!

  I felt bad for waking you up. I know sleep is a precious commodity there! But I was so glad to talk to you. I hope the boxes of presents start arriving soon. I know you will like the clock! I'll talk to you tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be able to figure out the computer modem thing, which will allow me to call you on the computer without being cut off any moment.

  October

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: I can't be held responsible for what I say in my sleep.

  And "it must be 4 a.m." is not grouchy. Not really. Not in a mean way. You do have an amazing capacity for calling me in the middle of the night, you have to admit. It was just one of those growth-spurt nights where Lauren refused to sleep and kept waking up, so when I finally fell asleep at 3 a.m. I felt like I was dying.

  So I was a teeny bit crabby when you called. But, once I woke up, I was delighted that you finally were near a phone! Unfortunately, you hung up about 20 minutes before I really woke up. Sorry.

  A thirteen- to seventeen-hour-time difference is tough. When Judd got up to fly at the crack of dawn, we were already in bed for the night. By the time he got back from flying, we were running errands or at the park. Sometimes we had to compromise and talk at 4 a.m.

  OK. Lots of times.

  But it was better to talk in the middle of the night than not at all. E-mail is wonderful. Cards and letters are cherished. But the sound of his voice was the real connection. When I heard his voice, I could see his smile. When I heard his laugh, I could smell his aftershave. When he said he loved me, I could feel his arms around me in the hug I needed so much. All of that just from the sound of his voice.

  I could always catch up on sleep after deployment.

  17

  That’s Classified

  August

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: Hello, wherever you are and whatever you're doing

  It's a little frustrating not knowing where you are, what you're doing, or when you might be able to call. I know you're not getting e-mails all that often, either, since you usually respond to a week's worth in one two-paragraph response. This takes "husband-wife communication problems" to a whole new level. I think I should go on Oprah on a segment titled "You Think Your Husband Doesn't Talk To YOU? HA." When we do talk, it's not like you can tell me anything, anyway. Which I do understand, by the way (Loose Lips Sink Ships and all that), but that doesn't make it any easier.

  To: Alesia

  From: Judd

  Subject: Communications

  I have been trying to log onto the AOL mail account, but the server here keeps kicking me off. I know it's tough not to hear from me, but I'm really doing the best I can. We just don't get anywhere near a phone or computer very often, and when we do, there are 50 guys in line for the phone, so I try to keep it short so everybody gets a chance to call home. It's not like our cell phone works on Middle Eastern calling networks. Not that we'd necessarily be allowed to use it, anyway.

  * * *

  This has been a long, hot day. We had FOD walk-down this morning (cleaning Foreign Objects and Debris off the runway). Then the plane washing took about three hours, and the temperature got up to 126F. It's not something that I want to do again soon! I got back from the airfield a little while ago, and am doing laundry, getting a haircut, and e-mailing you. How did the lawn mower thing turn out?

  I can't really say where we are, but we are getting ready to leave tomorrow and go someplace else for a few weeks. At some point, we will be in Diego Garcia, and I'll try to call you from there. Bear with me; when I get home, I'll talk to you nonstop for three days straight, until you're tired of hearing from me! I feel like I have been away a lifetime. I miss you all so much.

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: I hate not knowing where you are

  But I know, I know. Don't ask.

  We had a terrific day today; went to the park and to the library for story hour. I even took a nap when the kids did! Talk about bliss! I hope you're OK.

  To: Alesia

  From: Judd

  Subject: Patience is a virtue.

  I still can't tell you where I am, please don't ask. Just be assured that I am somewhere very safe! I'll try and call you when I can.

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: I wasn't asking.

  And, of course, you always have to keep "very safe" places secret. Be careful.

  To: Alesia

  From: Judd

  Subject: We have a great crew.

  Hello, sweetie. I'm sorry I'm only able to contact you intermittently. I am fine and you shouldn't worry. I got some good news this evening that most of the crew (the enlisted guys) are getting awards for the work that they've been doing over the last few months. I can't go into the details of course, but these guys have really made a difference in things. I will spend the day writing the awards out for the crew, so please send all of your creative writing thoughts my way. I'll try to call you this evening but, if not, I'll call you when I get to the next place.

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: The Next Place

  I get it. This is back to that It's Not Just a Marriage, It's an Adventure thing, isn't it? Please stay safe—wherever you are and wherever you're going—and remember my crucial aircraft advice: Always land as many times as you take off.

  Judd is what's known as a "mustang" in military terminology — an officer who was previously enlisted. He enlisted when he was just a teenager and served for several years on submarines, before he went to college and then was commissioned as an officer. When he graduated, he had the opportunity to go back on subs. He wanted to fly this time, though, and I agreed wholeheartedly. The life of a submariner's wife is pretty tough. Submarines can go under for weeks at a time (don't ask how deep, I already tried: That's Classified), and there is no contact at all with home during that time. No phone calls, no e-mail, no nothing.

  Sub guys' wives deserve special awards for courage and patience.

  Then there are Special Forces. SEALs, Delta Force, and the rest of the combat units ready to go in at any time, at a word. There's no planning or warning. If you're married to a SEAL, he can get the call in the middle of your anniversary dinner, your child's birthday party, or your vacation, and he'll have to be wheels up in a matter of hours. You don't know where he's going or how long he'll be gone. You just know he'll be on the front line in a very scary place. They don't get a lot of chances to call home, either.

  Special Forces spouses are on my heroes list, too.

  But, as hard as it is for all of us to go days or weeks with no word, I think about how much more painful and frightening it must have been to be a military spouse in the old days, when there was no e-mail or cell phones. When CNN didn't report on every movement. When it took weeks or months for some families to hear if their loved ones had survived Pearl Harbor.

  I would rather not know where Judd is, if silence keeps our military forces safe. I would rather not hear about troop movements on the news, if discretion keeps even one soldier or sailor alive.

  Everyone asks how we can possibly live with not knowing. It's simple. We don't have any choice. So we wait and wonder, pray, and e-mail. Sometimes we cry.

  And we're overjoyed to get phone calls at 4 a.m. fr
om our spouses.

  From wherever.

  18

  Is It Safe to Eat Month-Old Cookies?

  August

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: Just call me Betty Crockpot.

  We made homemade cookies today and mailed them to you. I don't understand why you want these, considering you move around so much that the mail may take weeks to catch up. Is it safe to eat month-old cookies?

  I guess, with my cooking, a better question would be whether they're safe to eat fresh out of the oven. Connor was very suspicious of cookies that didn't come from a package, but I finally got him to taste one. He pronounced it almost as good as the kind we slice and bake.

  By the way, please let me know if/when you get my boxes. Do you appreciate them? Do you even notice what's in them? You never say much about them.

  To: Alesia

  From: Judd

  Subject: HELLO!!! IS THIS THING ON???

  So I find it difficult to talk with my mouth full! Yes, I appreciate and love the boxes you send me! They are GIFTS FROM HEAVEN, MANNA FOR THE SOUL, FOOD FOR THE CREW. I ADORE YOU.

  Things are not as advertised here. The "great AOL access" no longer exists. There are only two phone lines into this place for us. One goes into the office, the other to a phone in the middle of the area where we live called the "Wadi." It is much cooler here, but much more windy. The wind is always blowing about 15 mph and usually gusts up higher to about 25-30 mph.