Just Pepper and Bear

I looked back down at the chubby pup who was studying at me.

My mother-in-law, Gaynor, taught me how to manage the logistics of being an Army wife. Day 50 living out of suitcases in one of the longest of our 14 PCS moves has confirmed this.

Logically, I knew the ghostly sensation following me was either curious neighbors or my imagination running wild about past wars and soldiers. But once inside, I locked the door and shut the shutter so it looked like nightfall.

…Unterklausen had been a Gestapo hangout.

I did not want to eat alone—so the baas accompanied my own nibbling, while I mused over breakfast on how to explore with a newborn.

“This is the stipulation… Lisps are unacceptable. Therefore, if your daughter wants to attend in the fall, she will have to get rid of that accent. I don’t want one of our teachers sounding like she grew up in a slum.”  

I don’t want to let the month of April end without acknowledging all our military kids. Despite this weird and tragic time, I think it is imperative we do not loose sight of what and who is most important. In fact, it is more important during times like this, we do not loose sight of what makes us who we are and what we value. And I value military kids, especially my own three Army brats.

Diane heard the sneers directed at her Czech community from outside the ghetto. But, when high school graduation came in May, she applied to St. John’s College in Cleveland anyway.

Diane’s mother had stopped singing. The baby, Danny, was only a few weeks old that summer—the summer, their dad died suddenly.

At the time, very few women had careers. With limited options, they could become a housewife, a secretary, or a nurse. Some could pursue a teaching profession as well, which is exactly what Diane wanted to do.