Grow where you're planted.

Grow where you are planted.

When I was a newlywed military wife, someone told me that it was important to "grow where you're planted." At the time, I thought, "Well, duh," but as years -- and moves -- came and went, I learned it wasn't as easy as all that. And I've known military spouses who've never stopped yearning to get back to that one golden posting . . .

A Tale of Two Weddings

After signing the wedding registry, April 28, 1984

As many military couples have done before, we had two weddings; one for expediency, and one for broader celebration. Here's the tale.

A Royal Outing

Updated: added a picture of me in my blue dress.

My colleagues photoshopped this picture of them. Take a close look at the one on the far right.
Aren't they a hoot and a half?

When one is invited to dine with royalty, one is obliged to speak in the third person, it is said.  Or the passive voice.

Stop. I can't do it. I simply can't. I will write the remainder of this post in the usual first-person active voice.

Now that I've got that out of the way, I can start telling you about the gala dinner I attended last night, whose guest of honour was none other than the Princess Royal, Princess Anne. Her Royal Highness. (Or, as some have said -- but I won't -- Her Royal Horsiness. She is an avid equestrian and actually competed in the Olympics.)

Steve is a member of the communications branch of the Canadian air force. In fact, he has a role of "chief advisor" to the branch commander. As any soldier, sailor or airman knows, this kind of duty is a thankless task: it's added on to your "day job" and generally adds to the length of your work day as well as, in this case, the need to travel. (Which explains our many, many trips to Kingston in the past three years. I'm not complaining; we love Kingston.)

This year happens to be the 110th anniversary of the branch's founding. And Princess Anne happens to be the branch's colonel in chief. It's an honourary role, but it is one that she takes quite seriously, as she apparently does all of her many such roles, of which there are some 320. She is known in England as the hardest-working royal.

About a year ago, the branch invited the princess to attend a celebration; she accepted. Unluckily for her, it coincided with the christening of her beautiful great-nephew, Prince George. Despite the big family event, she honoured her commitment and came to Canada where she will perform a week's worth of duties.

One of these duties was a gala dinner, to which Steve (and I) were invited. I put the "and I" in parentheses because I alone would not have been invited. It was an invitation-only event for a small 180-person dinner.

In case you wondered, there are plenty of Canadians who get their panties in a twist if they are thwarted from spending time in the company of a member of the royal family. Apparently, one woman had gone to the trouble of losing 40 pounds in order to impress Her Royal Highness, only to have failed to be included on the invitation list. Poor thing. I hope she doesn't lose faith and gain back all the weight!

That is a dreadfully long preamble to this post, which is all about our very peripheral date with Princess Anne.

Note: all photos were taken with my iPhone, so they aren't great quality.

Preparations

The first thing for me to do, of course, was to select a dress. The invitation specified "cocktail," which is clear enough to me (e.g., fancy, but not ball gown), but there were several women who showed up in full-length gowns and that's just fine.

I've gained weight (again) and did not enjoy shopping for a dress, but found a blue lace dress with a modest neckline and 3/4-length sleeves. Then I splurged and bought some topaz jewelery to match the dress.

I should have had my roots touched up, but I didn't. Instead, I put my hair in rollers the night before so that I would look suitably festive.

Also: new glasses

To prevent the curls from wilting with my hot flashes, I piled them atop my head. It worked.

Steve's preparation, of course, was much more elaborate as he's spent months managing the days-long event. It involved lots of meetings and decisions and is far less fun than pretty hair.

Obligatory bathroom selfie. Unfortunately, you can't see any of my new bijoux.
I wore my hair down about half the time.

Logistics

Steve had been in Kingston since Monday, and the gala was on Thursday, so I took the train down. (Always a treat!) We stayed at a bed & breakfast in Kingston, near the Queen's University campus. Our room was absolutely beautiful.

The photo was taken this morning.

The sun from those leaded windows cast beautiful rainbows around the room.

I don't always take pictures of bathrooms, but when I do . . .
(I covet that arch over the lavatory.)

Protocol

Before we were allowed into the banquet hall with the princess, we received a protocol briefing. It included instructions on how to address her ("Your Royal Highness" the first time, then "Ma'am" thereafter), that we should not initiate a handshake, but should bow or curtsey, and that we should not sit in our chairs until she took hers. Likewise, when she rose to leave, we should all stand.

Not too difficult, really, though another woman and I joked about talking to the princess about menopause and hot flashes. What could possibly go wrong?

I decided that the best bet was to keep my distance and hold my tongue. (I have been known to utter words that I later regret. Those words keep me awake at night.)

The Princess

I've heard it said that Queen Elizabeth II refuses to change her hairstyle because she feels it is part of what makes her recognizable. Evidently, Princess Anne ascribes to the same belief. She wears a "Gibson Girl" bouffant hairdo that does not seem to have changed since she was a young woman. It may, in fact, be a wig! Smart woman.

I would make a dreadful paparazzo: I'm too shy to get close.

It is a hairstyle I've worn myself. Often.

Her outfit was beautiful. If the Duchess of Cambridge had worn it, there would have been a run on tapestry coats in burgundy with ornamental ruffs around the collar and down the front. Sadly, Princess Anne was not graced with a photogenic profile. Perhaps it's not so sad, actually. Our culture hounds those with physical beauty in such a rapacious way that her "plainness" may have been a saving grace, after all.

She gave a brief speech after dinner and dessert. Although it likely was written by one of her staff, she clearly knew what she was talking about and improvised appropriately. She was witty at times, but mostly serious. Her voice is quite nice -- not the high-pitched tone that we are accustomed to hearing from Queen Elizabeth.

Dinner is Served

The dining room was elegantly appointed, but not over the top. I'm not sure why (space?), but the gala was held at a local hotel, rather than in the Officers' Mess on base or at the Royal Military College.

Draped ceiling and crystal chandeliers

There was a complete seating chart, of course. The princess sat at a "head table" that was placed quite centrally in the room, so everyone was able to  catch glimpses of her.

A small typo on Stephen's place card.

Elegant, but not fussy.

When I told Emily that I would be dining with a "real" princess, she laughed because one of the ways I had always encouraged the kids to use good table manners was that they should pretend they were dining with the Queen. Sometimes I would put on a fake high-pitched voice and pretend I was the queen.

So this just proves: YOU NEVER KNOW! It could happen!

Our table of ten included several "honourary colonels" as well as the princess' body guard from Scotland Yard, a handsome man who had been carefully chosen for his role. He spoke admiringly of her. After she spoke and returned to her seat, he commented that he needed to watch her closely: when she was ready to leave, she would do so quite quickly, and he needed to be ready.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, I noticed that she had placed her clutch purse under her arm, a sign that she was getting ready. I pointed it out to him and he said (kindly -- what was I thinking? That he hadn't noticed?) that he was aware.

The meal itself was delicious, but not heavy.

---

That concludes my tale. Today, Steve continues with his official duties, while I have been lounging at the B&B, enjoying not being a princess, but merely being pampered as if I were one.

Feelin' the Love

Bliss. I think I need one of these for my garden.

Every few years, Steve and I take a weekend away to do some strategic planning. I think the first time we did so was when he came back from his tour in Sarajevo.

These are important sessions for us. They restore the couple connection that can be stretched thin, with both of us working, travelling for our jobs, four kids (even though two have left home, we still worry about and support them). They are especially important as we face major milestones in our life, as we are now.

In a little less than two years, Steve will retire from his 35-year career in the Canadian military. At 18, he signed up to serve his country and he never looked back. Three years later, I signed on for the ride.

When he retires, we both will say goodbye to a way of life. This past week, we attended a seminar on preparation for retirement. It raised a lot of good questions:

• where will we live: city, country, snowbirds?
• will we retire at the same time?
• how much travel will we do?
• what will our finances be like?
• how will we meet the social, intellectual, and identity needs that are currently fulfilled through our careers?

All excellent questions. So we decided to use the weekend to discuss them. We had already planned a trip to Kingston and Gananoque.

Victoria Rose Inn, Gananoque. Gananoque has a population of 5,400 and is about half an hour's drive from Kingston.
My friend's daughter thinks it looks like a castle. It sure felt that special!

Breakfast, as always, was scrumptious, though it did not have any of the bacon we had smelled the night before; disappointing. Who ate that bacon? Where did it go? They are contributing to the global bacon shortage!

Morning snack. They let me take this to my room after breakfast.
They also stocked the guest pantry with jujubes and Twizzlers.

We started in on our homework after that, then walked into town and continued over lunch. And dessert.

Pecan pie and real root beer.

By then we had pinpointed some areas that still need some discussion and thought, and were glad that we still have many months to consider them.

Walking back to our inn, we passed a teeny, tiny art boutique and fell in love with a few jewels.

Don't these just scream, "HAPPY!"?

I may have a "thing" for glass art.

We spent the afternoon relaxing, and then we got all dressed up to go to a gala!

I wore gold ear rings and bracelet,
and had golden nail polish, clutch, and shoes.
(I never know what to do with my hands
in pictures.)

I felt like a princess in my red dress, alongside my dashing soldier. 

The gala was a fundraiser for a museum affiliated with Steve's branch of the military (Communications and Electronics branch, since you asked). Steve is the branch advisor, so he has a modest figurehead role.

As part of the fundraiser, there was a silent auction. Loosened up by a glass or two of champagne, we started by bidding on three packages. We happily withdrew from the third one. Then I saw someone pick up a pen to outbid us on one of the remaining two, so I upped my bid on the third one on our list. 

Moments later, I discovered that she had looked at our bid and changed her mind. Oops. 

So we ended up "winning" two lots and walking away several hundred dollars poorer. But, we have some excellent winter parkas, a new counter-top convection oven, and a free dinner at a microbrewery in Kingston, along with a night in a suite.

So it was all good, in the end.

Having finished all our homework on Saturday, we had a slow morning wandering the gardens at the B&B.

This wee fellow was trying valiantly to open the bud.

A brief spot of sunshine.

This retaining wall was probably 100 years old - and was beautiful -
but it did not look like it would be around much longer.

A happy, little flower.

So that was our beautiful weekend. We're back home now, in the thick of things. I'm procrastinating about laundry and grocery shopping. It'll all get done eventually. Probably before we retire, but no promises.

Operation Family Doc

The military member
of whom I am so proud.

Good news! The Canadian Military Family Resource Centre in Ottawa has started a program to help support families like ours who don't have a family doctor. (Note to my American friends: in Canada, because we have universal health care, military dependents are not eligible to use military health services.)

We received a mailing yesterday about "Operation Family Doc," which said, in part:

What is “Operation Family Doc”? 
This program facilitates the families of Canadian Forces (CF) members to obtain a family physician in a timely manner.  

Why is this program needed? 
CF families, because of frequent moves to accompany the serving member throughout his or her career, find it difficult to find and maintain family physicians. The average posting is 3 to 4 years, during which time the family may not find a regular physician and may have to rely on drop-in clinics or hospital emergency rooms. Operation Family Doc aims to link families with their new doctor as soon as they arrive at their new post. 

Amen. It's about time.

The member does have to submit an "application," and it isn't clear how long it will take to connect a member's family with a doctor, but it most certainly has to be less than two years, which is what it's taken me.

This, coincidentally, comes about six weeks after I sent a letter to the Director General of Personnel and Family Support Services (DGPFSS - cuz you juts know there is an acronym!). Here's what I wrote:

I am a proud military wife writing to let you know about an issue that you may not be aware of: access to consistent health care for families of military members upon return from an out-of-country (or even out-of-province) accompanied deployment.

The Canadian Forces has already ensured that military dependents are not subject to the usual three-month waiting period for provincial health coverage. That gave me tremendous peace of mind when returning to Canada!

I would like to see something comparable for access to a family doctor whereby a medical practice would be obliged to accept military dependents as new patients on a priority basis. I appreciate that this would require negotiation with the provincial health systems or the Canadian Medical Association, but I consider this an extremely high priority for the wellbeing of military dependents and the likelihood of military personnel to accept accompanied out-of-province or out-of-country postings.

Here is our story. I doubt that it is exceptional.

In 2005 my husband was deployed to NORAD in Colorado Springs. It was an exciting posting for our family and well worth the upheaval. 

However, upon returning to Ontario in 2010, we learned that our previous family doctor had moved to a different city. This was critical as our family has several chronic health conditions that require ongoing, consistent medical supervision: I have Type II diabetes which at the time of the move was diet-controlled and required no medication.

Furthermore, given the shortage of doctors in the province, Ontario had established a central registry whereby individuals could “register” to go on a waiting list. I did not learn about this list until more than a year after we moved to the province. 

In the meantime, I was “rejected” by several practitioners. My diabetes soared out of control and one doctor at my local walk-in clinic refused to prescribe medication. Finally, I found a walk-in doctor who would prescribe medications for my diabetes. There are more twists and turns to the story, but I’ll leave it there.

Recently, through word of mouth, I learned of two doctors who are accepting new patients. In August, I will meet my new doctor. I hope she will also take on other members of my family.

As I said, I am grateful that, despite all my difficulties, I had confirmed health coverage immediately upon setting foot in Canada. In these times of doctor shortages, I think it is appropriate to extend that assurance to include access to a dedicated family doctor.

I haven't received any reply from the DGPFSS, but I can't help wondering if my letter actually made a difference. Wouldn't that be nice? Or perhaps I'm not the only one to speak up about the issue. 


In any case, I'm pleased. Military families should absolutely not have to go through what I have.

Everyone should have a soldier in the house.

If there's one thing soldiers are taught, it's how to shine a pair of boots. We won't get into why it is important that a soldier's boots be shiny, we will simply accept that it is. And then we will reap the benefits of having such a skill in the household.

Did you see what happened to my favourite leather boots while I was in Toronto?

That is some serious salt damage right there.
The tips of the toes are sopping wet with salt water.

I was a little distraught because I do like these boots - they are extremely comfortable, great for walking, and they look unique with their foot-forming shape. (They kind of remind me of those old "Earth shoes.")

As soon as I could, I covered the salty spots with moist paper towels and was pleasantly surprised by how much salt came out. (Yay, osmosis!) But the leather still looked rather sad.

So this past weekend, I paid Brian (who is an Army cadet) to give those boots a good cleaning and polishing.

Clean and smooth

Isn't that kind of amazing? I immediately applied a fresh coat of waterproofing. Then I gave him two more pairs of boots to treat.

I love a parade.

Today, Steve and I attended a change-of-command ceremony. Now, for some people, that would be a definition of torture, but I, for one, enjoy military pageantry. I love the ritual, the regimented choreography, the small rites that could almost go unnoticed but have deep meaning. For those of you unschooled in the mysteries of military, I will share some of the pomp and ceremony* of this particular occasion.

First, the entire thing takes place on a parade square, which looks to you and me like a big parking lot without painted lines (can you imagine the chaos of such a parking lot?). Ranged along one side of this square are seats and bleachers facing in toward the square. This is where the guests sit.

A picture would really help, wouldn't it?

The tan lines and circles are service members. This parade was a "joint" event, so there were service members from the air, land and sea elements of the Canadian Forces. Each set of three bars in my diagram is a squadron of approximately 50 "souls" (as one commander called them). The circles out in front are the squadron commanders. In the centre, each flag is carried by a soldier, sailor or airman or airwoman. The reviewing officer stands on the raised daïs (the red square).

After the guests were seated, the troops marched in, in exquisitely orderly fashion - sharp uniforms, snappy steps, arms swinging to shoulder height, rifles resting on shoulders. The Sergeants Major tucked their pace sticks under their arms and watched that all was correct. Then the officers marched on, swords tilted at a precise angle. (In real battles, they don't make the officers fight with swords. *phew*)

Then we stood as the parade commander "marched on" the flags, calling the flag-bearers to take their places. In this case, the Canadian flag held the position of honour on the right as you face the reviewing officer, and the Canadian Forces flag was at left.

We remained standing as the (remaining) guests of honour arrived, their sedans driving right onto the parade square and dropping them off in front of the daïs. I don't remember ever seeing this before, but Steve says it is quite typical. This took place in several waves. [Note: wear comfortable shoes as there is a good deal of standing, even if you are in the audience.]

Then there was a lot of marching and saluting, stomping of feet, raising of hilts of swords to chins, saluting, speech-ifying, and so forth. There were a couple of amusing parts:

• After the squadrons and officers marched onto the parade square, they "dressed the line" by holding out their arms and skiddering their feet until they were each precisely one armslength apart from the other. It made a fun shuffling sound.
• The flags are treated as guests of honour, for what they represent. If you pass before them - or if they are carried before you - you salute (if in uniform) or stand at attention.
• Standing on parade is hard work! One officer on today's parade suddenly fell straight backwards, hitting his head - completely unconscious. Another soldier buckled and clung to his rifle to keep from hitting the dirt. In both cases, medics came quickly to take them to medical care. Steve explained that there are tricks to keep the blood circulating.
• At one point the parade commander had the troops and officers remove their hats and give three cheers to the out-going commander. It was one of the more serious "hip-hip-hoorahs" I've ever heard, done in perfect synchrony.

Now, I want you to notice the tents. The reason for the tents is to shelter the dignitaries from inclement weather, such as we had this morning. Here's a bigger view of a tent much like the one used today.

For today's event, they rolled up the sides and ends. The senior officers and their spouses (including Steve and I) sat in the first row, just under the rolled-up panels.

Now. Notice those white "windows" in the panels? In our case, those were screens. As the rain fell today, it ran down the pitched roof of the tent and then pooled until it dripped through the screen - right where Steve and I were sitting. It was pretty humorous as the sudden stream of water poured down, but gave us much sympathy for those men and women standing stoically on the parade square - and for those men and women who have endured - and do endure - much, much worse.

So it rained on my parade, but it wasn't such a bad thing, really.

*Note that I said "pomp and ceremony," not "pomp and circumstance." Pomp and ceremony is what we experience on formal occasions such as weddings and parades. The expression "pomp and circumstance" comes from Shakespeare, and "circumstance" refers to the exact opposite of ceremony: the drudgery, the muck, and the misery. (See Wikipedia)

Married to the Military

I cannot imagine my life
without this man.

Several months after Steve and I married, my sister-in-law asked me, "So how does it feel being married to the military?"

I don't recall exactly what I replied, but it was something along the lines of, "I didn't marry the military; I married your brother."

As a military kid herself, she knew better. The military has been the landscape of our marriage, of our family. It has shaped many of our choices, it has shaped my career. It has affected our children's education, friendships and mental health.

Indeed, what hasn't it touched?

Some of the aspects of being a military spouse are common to families who do not have a military member:

• Moving from one location to another, including to another country. (My brother and his family have lived in as many (or more) houses, including a home in Singapore.)
• Living apart for periods of time - and not because you're having marital difficulties.
• One spouse giving up or modifying career options for the sake of the other.
• Getting caught up in the social expectations to conform: to marry, to be heterosexual, to put work before family. 

The one big difference is that corporate execs or bureaucrats don't generally put their lives on the line when they go to work. But police officers, first responders, firefighters, and some defense contractors do that. As spouses, we share the worry that our best friend might never come home.


Brian, 2002

When Steve returned home after his six-month deployment to Sarajevo, our five-year-old greeted him excitedly with the words,

"Daddy! I thought you were dead!"

My heart broke that he had been worried about that for the whole time his dad was gone.
 
So, yes, being a military wife has certainly had an impact on our life.
 
I'm thinking about all this today for two reasons: (1) this Thursday will be our 27th wedding anniversary (yes, I was a teenaged bride, why do you ask?), and (2) a friend shared a heart-wrenching blog about a military spouse who was on the brink of suicide and is now in residential care, in part because of the effect military life had on her husband, her marriage and her own mental health.

In the first case, the years have flown by, and we will celebrate them.

In the second case, I don't think it's hyperbole to say that the lack of support from the military for this woman was tragic. Thank God she survived.

But I have a few thoughts on the matter. (I'm an opinionated gal. I have thoughts on EVERYTHING.) For one thing, I think we underestimate how emotionally difficult it is to live with someone who is depressed. "I felt very helpless" she writes of coping with her husband's depression and heavy drinking. "I knew my husband needed some sort of counseling, but I also knew it wasn’t something you could force someone into. I started to feel very overwhelmed."

And because her husband's mental health was not treated comprehensively, but was simply medicated, his behaviour had an increasingly negative impact on her and eventually the marriage broke down. In fact, if you tot up all the stressors in her life, you get a picture of someone who is at serious risk for stress-related illness. 

So, being a military spouse certainly didn't help her, but the same thing could happen to anyone who finds herself (or himself) without support, especially from her or his partner. As this compassionate website puts it, suicidal thinking "happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain."

My point - and I do have one - is that we shouldn't assume that being a military family is worse or better than any other lifestyle, but that we should all be aware of people who are at risk of being overwhelmed and do what we can to help anyone cope with the pain of excessive stress and depression.

Shame on the military network for letting her - and her husband - down.

Shame on us if we don't reach out to those around us who need someone to help shoulder their pain.

Now go give someone a hug or say a prayer or light a candle or send someone a note to let them know you're thinking about them.