From: Sgt. Mom

To: All In Group
Re: Effective Response to Ungentlemanly Attentions

1. It is occassionally brought to my attention that certain alleged gentlemen in public life have been behaving in an abusive and ungentlemanly manner, most particularly in their attentions to assorted female co-worke… Read full post »

I used to be a feminist, a long time ago and another century, when it used to mean that you were bright and adventurous, and the life choices presented to you— the options that your mothers and grandmothers had were about as appealing as a plate of cold gruel. My Grannie… Read full post »

My dearest daugher, known as Blondie, for the exceedingly fair color of her hair,  first raised the subject by asking, in that deliberately casual way that teenagers have of raising that issue that is of supreme importance to them:
"Mom... do you think I could make it through Marine Corps basic t/… Read full post »

(The Lesser Weevil and Spike)

So, now that my daughter Blondie and I are supporting a houseful of critters… some of whom interact agreeably with each other, and some others of whom maintain a guarded distance and a policy of non-recognition, and one who spits and snarls… Read full post »

(The house, in winter 1992)

I had no idea who had lived in the house before. I found it by accident, taking a shortcut between two housing listings in South Ogden, one of which proved to have been rented by the time I got to it, and the other which… Read full post »

While not quite achieving Melrose Place-like high drama, living in a barracks and keeping attuned to your friends love-lives is about on par with one of the duller soap operas. Of course, where the walls are tissue-paper thin, and there are only two communal telephones, one is made rather… Read full post »

(Sgt Mom -  pre-Sgt, pre-Mom:  at Misawa AB, 1978)

The women-only barracks was the only one that contained a working kitchen. Once upon a time, all the female troops were assigned to a WAF squadron, and lived in the WAF barracks. The WAF separate command was long… Read full post »

(Street fair in Misawa City, 1978)

Since the military services are, not to put too fine a point on it, a male dominated environment--- the services run from 3% female (Marines) to the %14-16 female (Air Force and Army)--- this tends to encourage a pretty frenetic social life… Read full post »

No, not the writing one – that is as liberating and as enjoyable today as it was when first I sat down to scribble the first couple of chapters of what would become “To Truckee’s Trail”, and even earlier, when I first began to write for my original blog, back in… Read full post »

 (Another essay from a couple of years ago, when I was still trying to get my second venture into historical fiction published the traditional way.)

 Or this one would, if it weren't a weekday. Besides the slow corrosive frustration of dealing with the various submissions processes of the b… Read full post »

(Great-Aunt Nan, Camp Lee, 1944 “Overseas Cap Issued”)

My great-aunt Nan was Grandpa Al's younger sister, born in Reading in 1903. They were the children of Great-Grandpa George's second marriage, to Alice Page of Middlesborough, Yorkshire, who had trained as a nurse, until sh… Read full post »

 Oh, Greenland is a dreadful place, it’s a land that’s never, ever green
And there’s ice and snow and the whale-fishes blow, and the sunlight’s seldom seen,
Brave boys, and the sunlight’s seldom seen!

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(Blondie in Nauplion, Greece, 1982 - she is the little girl on the far right)

When I was 16 and half years old, I went to Europe with a troop of teenaged Girl Scouts and made the happy discovery that I blended in. Being plumpish and fairish,… Read full post »

There exist a certain sort of human who ought to be marked with a special tattoo, or a ring of chemically sensitive tape, all around them, for they are toxic. Oh, there are a fair number of bitter, burnout cases in the military, which bad luck, bad experience, or a bad… Read full post »

It is a truism that travel broadens the mind, and brings the adventurous traveler in contact with many, many things— some of them elevated and educational and some of them mundane - and one of the mundane adventures is the exposure to the many, many different ways that human waste can… Read full post »

My mother is one of the most militantly tolerant women on the face of the earth: but not one of those fuzzy-minded, non-judgmental, graciously condescending, all "sit in a circle and sing "Kumbi-yah" and congratulate ourselves for being broadminded" sort… Read full post »

... It just gets parked in new premises, every couple of years. Summertime is the favored PCS, or Permanent Change Of Station time for families with children, but it’s not like there is a really good time, just a least worst time to pack up everything you own and vacate the… Read full post »

A certain  picture hung in a black frame, in the back bedroom of Granny Jessie’s house in Pasadena for many years, a black and white photo of four graves piled high with flowers. Only recently did my mother realize, upon looking closely at it, that the flowers were… Read full post »

Although similiar in aspects sufficient to make me read "The Feminine Mystique" with special attention, my mother differed  from all other post-WWII/1950ies moms raising the "Boomer" generation in the stereotypical cookie-cutter suburbs. Oh, sure, we did live in a house with a front porch, and m… Read full post »

Sing, Muses, of nature's most perfect breakfast entree, the food of the Gods, infinite in variety and nourishment! Unhappy mortals in less blessed locations may sing of their croissant and cafe au lait, the mixed breakfast grill, or toast with honey, jam on bread, even disgusting concoctions l… Read full post »

(JP and I,  around 1963)

(Me, Sander, JP, Mom and Pippy, 1966)

In a household with a father who is a research biologist and tends to bring work home, and a mother given to adventurous essays into whatever is cheap and plentiful at the co-op, the deep-freeze is liable to contain some… Read full post »