The Unexpected Gifts of Military Life

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My latest book, Milspouse Matters: Sharing Strength Through Our Stories, includes many experiences from our thirty years as a military family. A few stories didn’t make the cut for final publication, like this one, but it includes some of my favorite memories. Look for more of these under the military life and behind the scenes tags!

“Mommy, yook!” My preschooler pointed to the bulldozer pushing dirt across the construction site. He hopped up and down, waving frantically. The man behind the glass of the bulldozer’s cab caught sight of his excitement, grinned, and waved back. My little guy was obsessed with Bob the Builder, and now he was getting his own live reenactment of his favorite show. 

“He’s digging, digging, Mommy!” His sheer joy at the sight of his beloved “big twucks” was contagious. 

I pulled the double stroller carrying my littlest ones, a toddler and infant, closer to the park bench across the street from where the construction was taking place and sat down to rest for a few moments, automatically handing the two-year-old her sticky juice box, while peeking under the soft muslin blanket to make sure the baby was still asleep. My first grader dragged his bike over to stand beside me and the preschooler dropped his scooter in excitement. We sat together for some minutes, watching the heavy machinery move back and forth across the lot, before carrying on with our walk which would lead us to the palm tree lined iconic Bayshore Boulevard in Tampa, Florida. 

The Blurry Years & Florida Mornings

We’d recently moved from Texas with my husband’s latest military assignment to nearby MacDill Air Froce Base, and I was still settling into life in Florida. Having left my nursing job a few years earlier to be at home with the babies that filled our world during those years, our new summer routine included morning walks through the neighborhood that were as important to my fitness and mental health as they were to getting fresh air and the wiggles out for my four children.

With the mandatory stop to check on the progress of the new home being constructed a block from our house, we’d culminate our balmy stroll along the wide sidewalk running along Bayshore Boulevard, the boys alternately racing ahead on their little bike and scooter and turning back to me as I trailed behind with the heavy stroller. We all enjoyed our morning jaunts, with their backdrop of palm fronds squeaking against each other in the light breeze, a fish-laden whiff of air wafting from the bay, and the early sun dancing on the sparkling water before the day’s heat became too intense. 

We’d found a home to rent that was decidedly not in the “Bayshore Beautiful” part of Tampa, but several blocks away in the older, less expensive area, while we waited for base housing to open. Though the little rental home was a bit small, tattered, and outdated, it featured lush grapefruit, orange, and lemon trees bursting with fruit. Each morning, I’d walk outside to pick oranges and squeeze fresh juice to fill the kids’ Transformers and My Little Pony plastic cups. I also realized that I’d never truly tasted grapefruit before. Grapefruit plucked straight from the tree is a far cry from the bland fruit I’d tried before from the grocery store. It seemed like I’d stepped into a dream.  

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Though my days were filled with tasks from morning to night since our four children were all 8 years old and under, what I call the blurry years—equal parts exhausting and fulfilling, still, it was a slower-paced life and I savored our quiet mornings, the mild climate, and the new-to-me beach culture.

It can be easy to focus on the challenges inherent to military life, like starting over again and again, especially when you’re in the thick of it. Over the years, Steve would have 15 different military assignments, which makes my head spin even now to remember how many moves we’ve made together. But I found there were also so many opportunities to relish if I stayed open to them, whether it was an adjustment to beach life or a move overseas. While logistics and goodbyes are the difficult, necessary part of military moves, there are also new places to explore, friends to make, foods to experience, and cultures to appreciate.

One such unique experience came when we were stationed in Germany and invited to be part of a “schnapps tasting.”  

A Taste of Germany

Some years after our time in Florida came to an end, my husband was selected for a leadership role at Ramstein Air Base in Germany, and, after our overseas move from where we’d been living in California, we were immediately thrown into the faster paced life of military events, protocol, responsibilities, and expectations that go along with being part of the “command team.”

I’d agreed to support however I could, especially with military family events, and I juggled volunteering, invites, and hosting events with the full-time tasks of homeschooling our four children and toting them to various sports and dance practices, while also beginning to take more seriously my freelance writing interest. Some of the most memorable events we were privy to included tours and meetings with local businesspeople and government officials. It was a wonderful way to get to know the area while also doing our part to maintain positive German-American military connections. 

Often, the Wing would host leadership events in which the active-duty members and their spouses would meet with local dignitaries like village mayors and business owners, usually in a casual setting to allow for more interaction and chat. During one such event, we’d been invited to a tour and dinner at a nearby schnapps distillery, with the owner himself acting as our tour guide. He proudly showed us the inner workings of the business that had been in his family for decades: the giant copper still and the damp, dark storage areas lined with bottles of the precious schnapps.

Like anyone well versed in their subject, he was passionate about his topic and captivated us with the details of the processes of making the fruit mash, fermenting, and distilling. After the short tour, he invited us to sample various German foods in the distillery’s small restaurant along with a selection of “schnapps flights,” which would feature our choice of three different types of schnapps. We were each given a card listing all the offerings to mark which ones we’d like to taste. As I perused the menu, I gravitated towards flavors that I thought sounded fun: peppermint, peach, pina colada. I mean, how potent could a pina colada schnapps be, after all? 

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The distillery owner drifted from table to table, pausing to answer questions and offer recommendations. 

“Oh no, madam,” he protested when he saw the drink choices I’d marked with the provided pencil, “Those are the German schnapps.” He pointed to the other side of the card. 

“You should choose the liqueurs. Those are more like your American schnapps.” 

He explained that German schnapps are quite strong, and, since I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol of any sort, I happily complied and erased my initial preferences and instead chose a few liqueurs. Over the next hour, as we sampled Jaegerschnitzel and Spaetzle and then concluded the meal with a delicious, flaky Apfelstrudel (German apple strudel), we chatted and laughed with our tablemates, other military couples and a few townspeople.

The three fruity liqueurs I’d chosen went down easily, tasting to me more like strongly flavored juice. No big deal. The conversation with Steve’s coworkers and the German locals flowed, and I noticed that the room seemed to be getting a bit more boisterous and a little… wavy, as if someone had tilted the room on its side. My husband, a non-drinker, noticed that I’d finished my drinks and quietly slid his flight over to me. But I didn’t realize he’d selected the actual schnapps. I threw the first one back with abandon, sputtered, and rasped out like the character Radar trying to play it cool in the TV show M*A*S*H, 

“Smooooth.” 

Our friends—especially the Germans—joined me in laughing, but my throat was on fire as I pushed the wooden tray away. I’d never tasted anything so wretched. It was like drinking turpentine, well, what I imagine turpentine would taste like. I had an instant new respect for these Germans and their alcohol. They were not playing around. 

As we rose to leave at the close of this most interesting evening, I swayed on my heels a little and grabbed Steve’s arm for support. He looked at me quizzically. 

“You ok?” 

For someone whose drinking experience consisted of the occasional glass of wine, I’d consumed a lot between my flight and part of his. We said our goodbyes to the other guests, while I remarked loudly to Steve that they were probably the cleverest and funniest people I’d ever met in my life (to which he replied, “Ok, let’s get you home.”) and headed back to our normal home routine of making sure the kids were ready for bed and the coffee pot was programmed for the morning. 

The Gifts of Military Life

The contrast of being treated like special guests at certain events compared with the dailiness of family life was always interesting to me in those years. One minute being treated like a VIP; the next, standing at the kitchen sink wondering who dirtied up every dish in the house.

But it was also a gift that helped me appreciate both aspects of my life. Experiencing a new culture was thrilling and stimulating in so many ways, but to my mind, it was equally rewarding to take a walk with my children and or enjoy the bustle of home life while I sipped my morning coffee from a favorite mug. 

Looking back, I realize it was easy to get lost in the whirlwind of military life—the constant moves, the chaotic schedules, the adjustments to new places and cultures. But it’s in those blurry years, amidst the exhaustion and the unpredictability, that I found some of the most beautiful moments. Whether it was the joy of watching my son’s excitement over a bulldozer or sharing laughs with new overseas best friends over yummy food and drink, these small, fleeting experiences have shaped who I am today. And while I might not fully remember every detail of those years, the laughter, the friendships, the lessons, and the unexpected adventures are ones I’ll carry with me forever. The memories represent the same gift: the chance to step into experiences I never would have had otherwise.

And I’ll always remember that my first time trying real schnapps was at a small family-owned distillery in a quaint German village.  

And while I may never fully remember every detail of those years, the laughter, the lessons, and the unexpected adventures are ones I’ll carry with me forever. The memories represent the same gift: the chance to step into experiences I never would have had otherwise.

Stories like these were the motivation behind my latest book, Milspouse Matters: Sharing Strength Through Our Stories. See both of my books for military families below.