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 so...you 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.