Monday, September 17, 2007

Career Choices and how we landed in England

While I was lying down today I started thinking about all the things we did when we were first married, all the traveling and moving and how much fun it was. How scary it was. How thrilling it was. I'm not sure it was quite so much fun for the kids, what with all the school changes they had to go through, but as I had lots of that as a kid, too, at least I could commiserate with them. I think the most thrilling move of all was the transfer to England. We had a choice, you see. We could transfer to Naples (Italy) or London (England) and WTHF theory was if we moved to England, at least we would be where we speak the same language. Uh huh. At the time we had a white German Shepard (Alsatian in UK English) named Lady and a Siamese cat name Pyewackit (III). Lady went to be trained as a drug sniffing dog (this law enforcement thing, it's even in the pet's blood, you see). My friend Allison down the street from us in Norfolk (Virginia, not England) had begged to take Pye and know I cried over them like I was abandoning my children. But with the quarantine laws, there wasn't much else I could do. The packing up was easy, I just packed suitcases with the proper attire and put those in a closet. The packers came and packed everything else. As I found out when the furniture arrived at the house in Beaconsfield (Bucks), that included the trash that was in the trash can. Thank heavens I have sense enough not to put perishables in the trash, or a match might have to have been lit. We left for the new tour (in case you've forgotten, WTHF was in the Navy, not a rock band) from Montgomery, Alabama Airport, flew to Atlanta and got out in New York at Kennedy. Keep in mind that my husband did not join the Air Force for a very simple reason. He hates to fly. I found out later that he was working very hard behind the scenes to see if he could catch a ship headed that way, leaving the kids and me to the mercies of Delta Airlines. Luckily for him, that strategy fell through. I would have hated to be in his shoes if he had succeeded. So we arrive in New York and the airport that you always see in films is not the busy place you would imagine. At least, not at 2 in the morning. The only person we saw was some guy in a rain coat selling post cards. Not very nice post cards, either. Our plane didn't leave New York until about 9 that morning, and we did what we could to kill time, napped, read, looked around for some place to grab a bite to eat. Avoided the strange little man in the raincoat. Wallace, our older son, was 8 years old and Michael was 7. They were very well behaved little boys and gave me no trouble. I find that most military kids are that way. They were excited about the move, but a little afraid, too, I think. I'm afraid that I was so wrapped up in getting everything done, what with the packing up of household and all, that I didn't ask them about how they felt. I should have. Their input was important and while their concerns couldn't have much input into where Mac's career lead him, it was important that we listen. I like to think that we did. We didn't want them to worry, so we always put a good face on everything, no matter what it was. When we finally boarded the plane that would take us to Heathrow, we were all so excited. How odd it was to step off that plane in a totally different country and yet still feel so much at home. More on England tomorrow.


Little Town Big Life said...

Thanks for the comment!!

Sure you could fit in--the only requirement is lots of laughing!!

Now I have to visit your blog--more later!!!

Little Town Big Life said...

Ok, I'm back!! I just read your response to my kids moving--and you are so right, this isn't that far from us.
And rest assured, that kid is going to think of me as the favorite--it's my mission now!!
I see you are a columnist--I actually have a job at the school as admin asst, and cater part time, but I also submit a weekly (anonymous) column to our little weekly home town paper by "Miss Lil" titled "Now Where Was I". It's about as Okie hillbilly as a person can get. Perhaps I could email you one of my favorite columns--I got compliments from the few who know who I really am on this one.
Thanks for communicating.

Mary said...

This is reading like the first chapter in a book Really looking forwrd to chapter 2 In fact what about a book. I have to make a decision about writing a book I have been approached by a commisioning editor to write a book about the management of wounds. Seems like a lot of hard wook for little financial reward to me at present. But a novel now thats different. I'd read yours How about it??

Abbie said...

I confess has I come out of lurk mode, I have spent so much time getting to know you through your blogs, I felt if I had to comment on each one, I might come across as a *ahem* stalker.
You are easily the most interesting new blog I've found. Your niece who is busy preparing me for the joys of menopause is a close second.
How do I NOT have women like you two in my life?
This blog is especially touching because I used to be in the NAVY light-seconds ago- compared to you guys- and had the opportunity to go to Italy, but couldn't because I was pregnant. After the baby was born, I was stationed on a ship that had just come back from a six week tour in England. Those two cases are my only major regrets in my life.
The baby (now 11) is going to Europe next summer, and I'm going to enjoy living vicariously through him.
Sorry for being to long winded, told you if I did this in all your post, you WILL have second thoughts about not moderating your comments lol
Take care.