Militareality--
a brat's perspective
By Becky Lyn Rickman, Managing Editor
A late-realized epiphany on blessings earned from sacrifices made.
Above you see my dad, Joseph M. Rickman, Sr., Air Force NCO and the girl he stepped in on a date with for a buddy—turned wife, Carol Kathryn Shepherd Rickman and the girl they produced—named after Tom Sawyer's friend.
Due to some childhood trauma, I have blocked much of my childhood, but this much I remember: 15 schools in 2 countries (U.S. and Germany) and 6 states (Germany, Texas, Alaska, Texas, Mississippi, Missouri, North Carolina, and Maine).
I remember possessions lost in moves, many, many new friends acquired in those same moves, and cultures and dialects picked up like a chameleon.
Due to some childhood trauma, I have blocked much of my childhood, but this much I remember: 15 schools in 2 countries (U.S. and Germany) and 6 states (Germany, Texas, Alaska, Texas, Mississippi, Missouri, North Carolina, and Maine).
I remember possessions lost in moves, many, many new friends acquired in those same moves, and cultures and dialects picked up like a chameleon.
Yay . . . we're moving again. Oh, boy.
And, I remember my dream—the one I had from the time I was in diapers.
Many of you have heard this, but bear with me. There is a point in the end. I wanted to meet a red-headed, freckled farm boy, marry him, dance barefoot in a calico dress under a full moon, and make a dozen or so babies with him. I wanted to be happy, rocking, exhausted from a full day's work, in homemade rocking chairs on the porch, watching a thunderstorm roll in. I wanted to make all our clothes, grow all our food, and die in his old, wrinkly, loving arms.
What I got, was everything but that dream life. Shuffled from base to base, home to home, collecting siblings along the way, and a wonderful family grew from the chaos. I never forgot the dream, still have it today, but I had loads of fun and made the best of it.
One day, I was visiting some family sites with my second husband, the . . . flamboyant one. We went to an historic site in my family, Kittiewan Plantation, the home of Dr. William Rickman, first Surgeon General of the United States, appointed by the Continental Congress, and now home of the Archaelogical Society of Virginia. Then we visited his families summer home, also in Virginia.
After touring those places, we stopped for lunch at a small cafe. My husband, being, as the judge put it in our divorce, parsimonious, our meal consisted of the cheapest sandwich and a glass of water. I suddenly got very emotional and quietly teared up. He told me I could order dessert.
Many of you have heard this, but bear with me. There is a point in the end. I wanted to meet a red-headed, freckled farm boy, marry him, dance barefoot in a calico dress under a full moon, and make a dozen or so babies with him. I wanted to be happy, rocking, exhausted from a full day's work, in homemade rocking chairs on the porch, watching a thunderstorm roll in. I wanted to make all our clothes, grow all our food, and die in his old, wrinkly, loving arms.
What I got, was everything but that dream life. Shuffled from base to base, home to home, collecting siblings along the way, and a wonderful family grew from the chaos. I never forgot the dream, still have it today, but I had loads of fun and made the best of it.
One day, I was visiting some family sites with my second husband, the . . . flamboyant one. We went to an historic site in my family, Kittiewan Plantation, the home of Dr. William Rickman, first Surgeon General of the United States, appointed by the Continental Congress, and now home of the Archaelogical Society of Virginia. Then we visited his families summer home, also in Virginia.
After touring those places, we stopped for lunch at a small cafe. My husband, being, as the judge put it in our divorce, parsimonious, our meal consisted of the cheapest sandwich and a glass of water. I suddenly got very emotional and quietly teared up. He told me I could order dessert.
"No, no, no, that's not it! That's not what's bothering me, you nincompoop!" Only I didn't really say "nincompoop." I just thought it.
"Here's the thing," I sniffled, "All my life, I've had this dream of a farm and one husband and stuff and what I got was quite different. But, guess what. If it weren't for the sacrifice of my family and so many others like us, being transient and uprooted and willing to do whatever we needed to, your family wouldn't have had the stability you had. Because of us, sometimes called out in the middle of the night, you might not be who you are today. We are noble and of worth. We aren't grunts and people who couldn't do anything else. We are elite forces. The few, the proud, the chosen. No, wait, that's the Marines, but you know what I mean."
He didn't get it. I am not surprised. But I suddenly felt OK about my childhood. I was proud. In my head, I waved a little flag and saluted.
So for all you military folks and the brats you have along the way, "Here's to us!" Demand the respect you have been afforded!
"Here's the thing," I sniffled, "All my life, I've had this dream of a farm and one husband and stuff and what I got was quite different. But, guess what. If it weren't for the sacrifice of my family and so many others like us, being transient and uprooted and willing to do whatever we needed to, your family wouldn't have had the stability you had. Because of us, sometimes called out in the middle of the night, you might not be who you are today. We are noble and of worth. We aren't grunts and people who couldn't do anything else. We are elite forces. The few, the proud, the chosen. No, wait, that's the Marines, but you know what I mean."
He didn't get it. I am not surprised. But I suddenly felt OK about my childhood. I was proud. In my head, I waved a little flag and saluted.
So for all you military folks and the brats you have along the way, "Here's to us!" Demand the respect you have been afforded!
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Like Becky Lyn Rickman's story? Here's more by her:
Being There
How I still haven't learn to keep my smart mouth shut!
Cacti and Geraniums
Some mysterious goosebumps or "What is that on the wall?"
Finding my metal in wood
Some of my favorite herbal recipes are . . .
I love my cat, but . . .
I love all creatures, but . . .
You might be addicted to Harry Potter if . . .
My shot at the big time
A cautionary tale
Why I do it
How I chill
How to clean up an egg and other helpful hints
Most embarrassing moments—automotive edition
The thing about getting older is . . .
Being There
How I still haven't learn to keep my smart mouth shut!
Cacti and Geraniums
Some mysterious goosebumps or "What is that on the wall?"
Finding my metal in wood
Some of my favorite herbal recipes are . . .
I love my cat, but . . .
I love all creatures, but . . .
You might be addicted to Harry Potter if . . .
My shot at the big time
A cautionary tale
Why I do it
How I chill
How to clean up an egg and other helpful hints
Most embarrassing moments—automotive edition
The thing about getting older is . . .
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.