I was born on a military base, in a tiny hospital. My mom says that on the day I was born, I was the first baby girl to show up after a month of baby boys. The doctors and nurses cheered and imprinted their happy energy on me.
Grocery shopping, going to church, going to the movies, all took place on a military base. It was a happy and sheltered world. I could go to the bowling alley, shoot pool, or go to the swimming pool with my brothers and feel safe; safer than outside the base. For a spell, we ran wild through the Navy Exchange; the equivalent of a department store. We played video games and ran the wrong direction on the escalators. We were allowed to our innocent mischief. Maybe we got reprimanded a couple times, if that.
Attending public school and going to the public library was our outside world civilian experience. I practically spent every single summer day on Coronado Beach on the North Shore which was the nearest to the gate of the North Island Base where my mom worked. I watched jets fly above me while I laid on the sand. Navy Seals would run along the beach; training.
Having grown up in Navy, Marine, Army, and Air Force bases to attend weddings and birthdays and run weekly errands like grocery shopping and going to the gas station, it was a bit of culture shock to age out of my military dependent privileges and join civilian life.
I imagine it must feel very weird if not unsettling for civilians to see tanks and military in their civilian terrain. J told me her niece saw tanks roll into Silverlake.
JNET: “Tanks in Los Angeles? Wow! Did she take photos and talk to any of them. See what they were up to?”
J: “No, I think she was a bit afraid.”
JNET: “ No reason to be afraid. They’re here to help with something and keep us safe.”
It is strange to hear people fearing someone that’s made a career to protect our country. Yes, they’ve been trained to defend our country but they may also be doctors, engineers, or a computer technician that is wearing a uniform. It makes me sad that people experience fear whereas the sight of an aircraft carrier, a jet, and a soldier usually puts a lump in my throat and makes my eyes misty.
Because my dad was someone that wore a uniform, who was an engineer, who was away for months and months before his ship would return. I have uncles and cousins and friends who still serve. My uncle is away right now while his wife and children forge ahead until his return.
You see the uniform and the military equipment. But I see and live the world where moms mind the fort along with a community of others waiting for the return of someone on duty. I grew up knowing my neighbors and visiting with them often. We helped carry one another’s burden because it made the time missing the person that was away, bearable.
It is shocking and terribly sad that during this time where we are called to shelter and bear through a national emergency, people are feeling afraid that our military is here to harm us. If you ask them, they would kindly reassure you and would probably appreciate a hello.
Have we ever lived through such an emergency where chaos and disorder sat on the edge of society. The havoc may hold back due to the protective presence of a soldier that has pledged their life to protect country, countryman and ally.
What is surreal, unfamiliar and perhaps intimidating to you is more familiar and comforting to me. My dad took me to air shows. I’ve watched tanks do practice maneuvers in the hills along the freeways where I grew up. And I’ve lived through many times when the base was under some sort of alert or my friend’s mom from Homeland Security would recommend that we be ready, whatever ready meant. The whole civilian world outside lived life uninterrupted. Even during those times of heightened security, I felt safe. It was life. Military life.
I had fun too.
Here, I’m attending a rock concert on a museum air craft carrier.
Don’t be afraid seeing someone you felt happy to say “Thank you for your service” last year. If he is in your neighborhood, he is there to keep you safe.
A woman from one of my private groups did approach a soldier who was at the grocery store. She wasn’t afraid. She went to thank him for his service. He instead thanked her for sheltering knowing that her work and daily life was put on hold in order to stay safe and keep others safe from a virus. She answered him by saying,
“Where we go together, we go as one. We are together in this.”
His answer made her especially excited.
“Trust the plan.”
If you know what that means. You know what the invisible virus is and you know everything will be okay. Do not fear.
JNET
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