Real Army Wives

Our country was about to celebrated its 200th birthday. We were still in the clutches of the "Cold War" and the Berlin Wall was an ugly scar on humanity. We were Army wives. Our husbands were stationed in Germany, charged with the responsibility of keeping the iron curtain securely in place. We found ourselves living on foreign soil in the largest United States military community in the European Theater.

As military wives, we were considered to be no more than extensions of our husbands, "dependents" in every sense of the word. Some of us knew our own social security numbers by memory, but all of us recited our husband's social security number every time we availed ourselves of the privileges provided for us. Even our transgressions were attributed to our husbands (sponsors) for their inability to keep us under control. We were "Military Dependents".

We were all typical young housewives. Well, they were all young. I was in the process of crossing into that untrustworthy "over 30"age group. I like to think I went there gracefully, setting a brave and glorious example for all the rest of them.

Where was I? Oh yes. We were all typical housewives. Or were we that typical? Let's see. We came from St. Paul, Minnesota, San Jose, California (via Toma, Wisconsin), Detroit, Michigan (via Arizona) and Rector, Arkansas (via Texas). We were certainly representative of the good old USA. But typical? That's hard to say.

I did see Jane as a typical young housewife. She had immediately set to work turning their cookie cutter apartment into a home, not only for herself and Joe, but also for the many friends that shared their lives and the daughter they would soon have. She was willing to do her time wherever she was needed, but she always longed for home in St. Paul

Tall, denim-clad Anne, our flower child, adorned with turquoise and seeing everything with her aquamarine eyes, was mother of 3 girls under 5 years. She was just as homesick for San Jose. She surrounded herself with things that made her feel good, Hummel figurines, Persian rugs and us.

Lana was a no nonsense kind of lady with a real "get 'er done" attitude. She was also a mother of 3', albeit hers were a son and 2 daughters. She loved to travel. She and Anne were also seeking a higher education.

Me, I was totally lost in my internal conflicts, didn't care if I ever got home again and was not at all sure who I was. So, at Anne's suggestion, I enrolled in a class, and surprised myself by loving it. English Literature became my major. Then, there was the psychologist Anne, Lana and I shared. Yeah, maybe we were typical.

What we all had in common was a weird sense of humor and an odd understanding of what was going on around us. We quickly developed a language of our own and even though it almost sounded like we were talking like everyone else, we were very often not saying what "they" were hearing. It is no wonder we thought ourselves to be special. We were special. We are special. We get more special all the time. And we were probably the most independent "Dependents" to ever step into Vogelweh Housing