Homefront Journal: Our Own Foreign Country

Many military spouses have shared thoughts on the deployment experience,  which is notable for its moments of extreme highs and lows, heartbreaking departures, fraught communications and, ideally, a loving reunion. But what about all the moments and years in between that make up the life of a military family? Here, in an occasional series (“Homefront Journal”) chronicling the many seasons of a tour of duty, poet Lisa Stice (Uniform,2016) shares her thoughts on arriving at a new station, and what that means as a mom, wife, and writer. – Editor

by Lisa Stice (poet, Marine Corps wife)

“And even though we are in our own country, we feel like we have come to live in a foreign place”

Since my husband and I have been together, we haven’t lived as much as three years at each duty station. The pick-up-and-move lifestyle is a difficult one. Right when friendships are deepening, right when we’ve nearly unpacked the last box, right after we’ve nailed a new picture to the wall, the PCS order comes. When kids and pets enter into the mix of it all, it especially gets tough.

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Our last duty station was at Camp Pendleton, and we lived in south Carlsbad. Our little dog made the move there from Virginia when he was 12 weeks old, so he still considers himself more of a California dog. Lover of cool, rain-free days. Friend of every dog and person we met on our walks, and we went on so many walks. We’d take different routes, walk to different places because we had sidewalks everywhere.

Our daughter was born in California. Going out in the stroller all around the neighborhoods a few times a day was just part of life. She was patron of the Zoo and Safari Park, the trails of Balboa park, the beaches and lagoons. She took swimming lessons, even outdoors in February. She went on outings with her friend, Max. Grandma and Grandpa, just five hours away, spent many weekends with their only grandchild. She was spoiled with easy access to good weather, things to do and lots of people. We were all spoiled, which made the transition of this most recent PCS all the more difficult.

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Beyond adjusting to high temperatures and humidity, we’ve gone through (are still going through) a lifestyle adjustment and culture shock. With every move, I expect to learn how to adapt to our new station. In northern Virginia, I learned driving at certain times of day to certain areas might mean something that should take 30 minutes on the road would take three times as much, and I learned how not to get lost while changing Metro trains, and that parking always costs a lot of money. In California, I learned how to manage a dog and an infant in a three-story townhouse and how to get the trash to the dumpster with a dog leash on one wrist and a stroller handle in the other hand. I knew this move to the deep South would bring challenges, but I didn’t anticipate how difficult those challenges would be.

First came the thunderstorms that sound like the earth is being ripped apart; my dog’s calming treats, snuggle vest and prescription antianxiety drugs will never fully stop stice3his pacing and panting during those days he’s convinced the world is coming to an end. Then, it was the mother’s broken heart when my daughter realized her days would be spent mostly at the house, and she’d pull her swimsuits from the drawer and cry, lamenting the loss of swimming lessons and splash parks. My daughter has adapted the most. The discount and grocery stores excite her, now that she’s forgotten the zoo and museums. We’ve come to accept the lack of sidewalks and the weather that keeps us indoors most of the time.

 

Still, there are some things a person just can’t get used to. Because my husband works in an area of base that was just ranges a few years ago, we live quite a way from the other Marines. We’re in an area newly inhabited by a small number of Marine Corps families, in a town with not even a small motel to welcome people passing through. It’s the knowing we are unwelcome that is most difficult. I will never adapt to people staring at me like I’m insane or people responding with “Why are you telling me that?” when I chat in line at the grocery store. My husband and I will always be taken aback when someone in our neighborhood tells us how much he/she hates the military “moving in and taking over.” Like we’re occupiers of a foreign country. And even though we are in our own country, we feel like we have come to live in a foreign place with the rebel flags, no friends, family thousands of miles away. I want to say, “I didn’t choose to come here,” but I don’t say anything.

I don’t say anything, but I do write.

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stice_uniform_coverAbout the author

Lisa Stice is a Marine Corps wife. It’s difficult to say where “home” is, but she currently lives in North Carolina with her husband, daughter and dog. She is the author of a poetry collection, Uniform (Aldrich Press, 2016). You can find out more about her and her publications at lisastice.wordpress.com and facebook.com/LisaSticePoet.

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