"WE'RE JUST LITTLE KIDS!"

This next blog entry is dedicated to three, young “knuckle-heads,” who were always getting themselves into a situation that always ended with the same results. The three “knuckle-heads” know who they are and will understand this story wholeheartedly.

This particular story is set in Georgia during one hot, summer day………



It was another hot, smoldering, summer day in a little Georgia town called Collins. The kind of day where sitting under a shade trade tree was nothing more than a temporary hiding spot until a better thought came along. The kind of day where the pigs laid in mud all day to keep cool, and the kind of day where you didn’t hear a peep out of the farm animals, although there were hundreds of them, and the kind of day where even the flies weren’t interested in swarming.

Yep. It was just another hot summer day in Georgia. Not the kind of day you would want to go outside and work in a hot, dusty field, especially if you are an eight, nine and ten year old kid! That is where Jenny, Junior and Greg come in. This was one hot summer day they decided to rebel against one of their most important daily chores – working in the field pulling weeds from around the rows of corn.

The kids felt it was just too hot to go outside, and besides, it felt much cooler inside under a freezing, cold air conditioner. They were enjoying playing with games, and toys, and were getting along splendidly together for once. It wasn’t often the trio could play in harmony without a fight breaking out among them.

Jenny was their 10 year old cousin who came to stay with them for the summer. Jenny was a city girl but loved the freedom the country provided: Acres and acres of land to run and play without the interruption of crowed streets, buildings, pollution, and the rapid noise that was a constant of city life. And if hunger pains happened to hit, there was plenty of fresh pickings from the multitudes of berry bushes, fruit trees and the garden patch of sweet raw vegetables, where Jenny and her cousins would daily, plop themselves down with a shaker of salt and pepper and eat raw peas, tomatoes and corn and cucumbers until they were about to pop. Jenny was also the older of her two cousins, which meant she thought she was smarter and enjoyed bossing Junior and Greg around when she could.

Junior was 9 years old and the self appointed leader of the trio. Junior was a mischievous boy who always sought trouble and had no problem finding it. That’s because he was usually the start of it. He even looked like trouble; and oddly enough, he seemed cuter when he was up to no good. Junior could also be a bully who got a kick out of intimidating his brother Greg into being a willing participant of his devious deeds. Strangely, these were the few times that Jenny and Junior got along. Getting into devilish mischief, bullying, and sometimes resorting to beating Greg into going along with their plan, were the only times Jenny and Junior really saw eye-to-eye.

Greg was 8 years old and the sweet, logical child of the trio, which is why Jenny and Junior often felt they had to bully or beat him until he agreed to go along with their plan, or whatever devilment they were about to partake in. Anytime Jenny and Junior got an idea to do something they knew wouldn’t sit right with the adults, Greg was always there to remind them “Y’all know ya gonna get in trouble!” which would always be followed up by a “Shut up, Greg!” which would then be followed by the standard bullying or beating of Greg.

But Greg could be pushed too far by the bullying duo. Greg took a lot from them, but he had his boiling point like most animals that are pushed too often or backed into a corner. Jenny and Junior never did tell of the time Greg beat them both up in the tomato patch one day, after being pushed too far by them. Let’s just say Greg had them running scared and begging for mercy.

As you can see, with Jenny and Junior as influences, it was hard for Greg to maintain his sweet demeanor and be the obedient child that he could have been. Secretly, Jenny and Junior knew that having Greg involved in their dirty deeds, added credibility to their little fibs once they got caught.

Lela, the boys’ mother, interrupted the peaceful playtime to inform them it was time for them to go into the field. The children began their protest: “It’s too hot to go outside and work today. Why can’t we just stay inside and play like normal little kids.” Lela told them their grandfather would be expecting them and that they had to go into the field and help him. The children insisted on standing their ground; “But it’s too hot. We want to stay inside and play. We’re just little kids! We shouldn’t have to work so hard!” Lela felt sorry for the persistent trio, although she wouldn’t openly admit that she did. She told the children they could stay for a few minutes more and play, but then they would have to go meet their grandfather in the corn field. More than a few minutes went by when they heard an urgent knock at the door. Everyone seemed to understand the knock without even having to open the door. They knew it was their grandfather coming to claim the peacefully, playing children for their daily grind of field work.

The children protested to Lela to tell their grandfather that they were sick or that they couldn’t come out because they had too much to do inside. Lela informed the pitiful, puppy-eyed trio that they had to go help their grandfather, but once they got back, there would be a nice meal waiting on them and they could play afterwards. In Junior’s last attempt to make logic out of why they had to work on such a hot day, he asked his mother why doesn’t his little brother, Todd, have to work. “Because Todd is only a year old – he’s a baby,” replied Lela. “That’s still no excuse,” said Junior. “He can still sit in one spot in the field and pull up weeds.” Jenny and Greg urged Junior to quit fussing and to just go and get it over with (Junior had a way of taking advantage of Lela’s kindness, when he knew good and well, he would not behave in that manner if his father, Harold, would have been there. Harold was a strict disciplinarian whose authority was never questioned).

The children reluctantly went on their way where they found their grandfather waiting impatiently outside for them: A grandfather in his seventies who was born of old southern ways and traditions, who believed in hard work, and had absolutely no tolerance for unruly children.

“You chillins’ thought you were gonna git out of working today, didn’t ya?” “No sir,”replied the children. “Well, there’s plenty of work to be done and catching up to do because y’all were too lazy to git up early and come help me.” As they got closer into the corn field, the children could hear the sounds of their grandfather’s radio. He enjoyed listening to the radio while he worked and he wanted to keep up with the radio news reports. Once deep into the field, the children were assigned rows of corn and started on their daily task of pulling up weeds from around the crops.

Hot and aggravated, the children were in no mood to work what looked like miles and miles of corn in the hot, blazing Georgia sun; but what other choice did they have. Suddenly, a catchy tune from the radio sent waves through the air like a burst of energy. Perfect! This is just what the children needed; a song to give them the incentive to rebel. The song was perfect, even the name in the song was the same as their grandfather’s first name, and the words seemed to fit what they felt was their exact sentiments. At that point, the children had decided to rebel and make their grandfather’s day a living, daytime nightmare.

So the children began to sing over and over again: “LITTLE WILLIE WON’T GO….HOME…..AND HE WON’T LEAVE US ALONE….LITTLE WILLIE WON’T GO……GO…..HOME!”

“GIT BACK TO WORK, WHAT DO Y’ALL THINK YOU’RE DOING!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL US WHAT TO DO WILLIE!” “THAT’S RIGHT, W-I-L-L-I-E!” “GO HOME WILLIE AND LEAVE US ALONE!” “YEAH, GO HOME MEAN WILLIE!” “MEAN WILLIE,’ that’s a good one, Junior,” said Jenny. “GO HOME MEAN WILLIE!”

“WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO YOU LITTLE HEATHENS!” “WE’RE JUST LITTLE KIDS; WE DON’T WANT TO WORK!”

With a concerned and hurt look on his face, “Mean Willie” made a move to catch one of the little “heathens,” but he was no match for their quick, sly, energetic moves. For a brief second, the children felt a touch of remorse for what they were doing, but there was no time for remorse or weakness, they had to band together and continue to stand their ground. Deep down inside, the children knew they were in serious trouble. So they decided to make the best of the situation, or the worst would be more like it.

As they danced and sang their “WILLIE” song, the trio circled around their grandfather kicking dirt and throwing tomato worms and blueberries on him. Feeling defeated, their grandfather departed with a frustrated smile and a look of I’ll be back soon. “BYE, MEAN WILLIE,” yelled the children.

Feeling good about themselves for what they believed was a big win for succeeding in running off their grandfather, the children found a cool spot in the middle of the corn field and sat down to play with insects and savor their win. They knew deep in their souls, they were in big trouble, but nothing was spoken about the obvious, they knew what was coming next. They could be some challenging tykes at times, but never outright defiant with someone in authority. But this was also one of the few times the trio had been strongly united for a common cause, and they were feeling quite proud of themselves for sticking together. So they decided to enjoy the peaceful, quiet moment for as long as time allowed. It seemed like hours had passed, when................

“AAAHHHHH!” Greg was hit first! “Mean Willie” had returned with a vengeance! He snatched Greg up by the arm and proceeded to whip him with what appeared to be a ten foot switch (In case anyone had ideas of running)! The trio had been huddled in a circle, in deep thought as they watched grasshoppers race to the end of a dirt drawn finish line. There was no warning to alert them of “Mean Willie’s” return. Jenny and Junior’s first instinct was to run, but their conscious reminded them that they were in this together. Feeling sorry for Greg, they decided to stay and accept their punishment.

Once it was all said and done, the children realized, they couldn’t put one over on an old wise man, and maybe they shouldn’t have been so defiant. As the children felt sorry for themselves and worked in silence with their grandfather nearby making threats if he heard a peep out them, the tiny sounds of giggles were heard.

As the sun began to set and cool the hot Georgia air, tears began to dry, and the tingling and sting from the pain of being disciplined began to subside, the youthful spirit that makes children who they are was finding its way back into the souls of the trio. A new day would be born tomorrow, a new day of ideas, schemes, mischief and secret rebellion. After all, "WE WERE JUST LITTLE KIDS!!!"

*This is my last blog entry for now. I hope that you have enjoyed my stories as much as I have enjoyed sharing my stories with you, but I have other pressing issues that require my attention. It’s been fun. Thank you for reading and commenting on my blogsite, whether is was in person, by e-mail, or written as a comment on the blogsite.

Ghosts like to party too!

It seems many of you were intrigued and fascinated by my recent ghost tale. And as you may remember, I had said we spent several months chasing down ghosts; this was before we were actually chased by a ghost, which ended up putting a screeching halt to our ghost chasing experience.

This is the tale of another ghost story that takes place in the same small town of England, just a few months before we were scared straight! And, yes, it really did happen………We think…..?

Everyone was excited about the upcoming Navy Ball. My ghost chasing group was especially excited because we suggested the hotel that our Navy Ball would be held in. Since we were a small military operation, the brass wasn’t as stuffy and uptight with formalities as they normally would be. They actually were a bit relaxed and even went along with a good prank every now and then, which is why they didn’t protest too much when we told them we had heard the hotel was a little haunted. They jokingly informed us “Ghosts don’t scare us.” Or they just brushed us off as a group of prankster youngsters as they often did. Only we didn’t tell them just how haunted we heard the hotel was.

Many of us had decided to rent a room at the hotel the night of the Navy Ball. Everyone had planned on having a good and didn’t want to worry about driving to their residence in the middle of the night. We also had a well-known marine general who would be our guest speaker who was also staying at the hotel. And of course, the marines were proud and beside themselves that he was there, and all the brass wanted to rub elbows with the general and make sure they were nearby if anything arose. But my group had other reasons for wanting to stay at the ritzy hotel.

The Navy Ball was a blast! Everyone had a great time. The food, music and the laughter was plentiful. All navy and marine personnel looked outstanding in their dress uniforms; the spouses were pretty sharp as well in their fancy evening gowns and tuxes.

Everyone eventually left the hotel ballroom and retreated to their suites on the floor that was solely reserved for us military folks. Mike, a ghost chaser buddy, told everyone to come to his room because he was going to party all night long. Over 50 people showed up including some of the brass.

This party went on for hours, until finally, around 1 o’clock in the morning Steve whispered in my ear, “You want to go look for ghost?” With all the fun and excitement, we had all forgotten about one of our main purposes for being at this hotel. “Of course,” I said. Steve told a few others, and I grabbed a few “ghost buddies” and off we went. Mike was a little worried about drunken sailors tearing up his room, but we managed to pry him away. My date, a marine, declined to follow us on our little ghost journey. The marines were all on their best behavior because of the well-known general that was visiting. A couple of us girls were hoping they would come along for protection. We had no idea what might jump out of these dark corridors or what we would be getting into.

The hotel had eight floors. We had heard, however, that the sixth floor was never occupied; the hotel never booked reservations for the sixth floor. There were rumors of strange happenings on the sixth floor. Some say, it was once used as a secret bordello, others say they hear loud noises, stomping and music all night during the weekends, and others tell stories of partying soldiers, and bloody tales of romance gone bad.

We decided we wanted to check out the sixth floor. We sweet talked the hotel desk clerk into giving us a key to the rooms or a room on the sixth floor. He warned us not to go, and declined our request over and over again, but we finally slipped him a few colorful bills of English money, at which time he obliged us. The six of us headed off to the elevator, two other regular members of our group were too drunk to come along on this round. With keys in hand, we were on our way to the sixth floor. So we thought……

We all piled into the elevator and pressed the number ‘6’ for the sixth floor. The elevator was a little shaky and it seemed to speed up and slow down. We didn’t think much of it, being that the hotel was old. But then the elevator finally stopped---on the ‘7th’ floor? “Hey, I thought we were going to the ‘6th’ floor?” “I did press the number ‘6’,” said Steve. We all watched him press the number and watched as the elevator door slid closed and proceeded down to the sixth floor. We watched as the numer’6’ lit up at the top of the elevator, then we watched as the light passed the ‘6’ and proceeded to light up the ‘5’, then it came to a complete stop. “What is going on?” “I know I pushed number ‘6’.” “I know you did,” I said. “Yeah, we know you did, Steve.”

Just as we were wondering what was going on, we heard giggling sounds. We all laughed and knew the desk clerk probably had something to do with this, or it was some of our friends trying to be funny. We brushed it off and gave the elevator one more try for the ‘6th’ floor. The third time worked.

We finally arrived on the sixth floor. It was dark and damp and had a weird sense about it. No sooner than we stepped off the elevator, we saw what appeared to be an American male in an army uniform walking at the end of the corridor. He smiled and waved to us and kept walking as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere. We all were wondering “What was an American army guy doing here?” (We didn’t have any American army personnel stationed in our town.) So we decided to follow the army fellow. When we arrived at the end of the hallway, we looked left and saw a light coming from under a door. We all assumed that must be were he went. As we got closer to the door, we heard music and laughter. “Alright, a party!” everyone was up for a party. We proceeded to knock on the door—repeatedly, hoping someone would open the door and let us join the party. We couldn’t believe no one heard the knocks. So we decided to use the key we bribed from the hotel desk clerk. Mike calmly opened the door and to our surprise, there was a light on but the music had stopped playing, and no one was in the room! The room appeared clean and untouched. “Wait a minute!” “Wait a minute!” “Didn’t we hear music and partying?” “We sure did,” we all exclaimed. “What happened to that army guy?” Confused and curious, we decided to check all the rooms at that end of the corridor. There were four.

We knocked on every door, and then opened them up with our hotel key when no one answered. To our surprise, the rooms were all empty. “What in the world was going on?” we thought. Maybe we should leave now, and forget about this whole searching for ghosts thing. As we headed back to the elevator, I noticed that one of our members was missing. “Where is David?” “Yeah, where is David?” “Oh, brother, is he trying to scare us?” Just as we were about to start yelling for David, here he comes from around the corner at the other end of the corridor with a drink in his hand. “Where were you, and where did you get that drink?” “In room ‘620’, David said. There having a party for some guy that’s turning 30, and they told me to go get my friends.” “You said you were at a party in room ‘620?” “Yeah.” “Well, why didn’t you say anything when you left?” “Look do y’all want to go to the party or not?” said David. “Yeah, let’s go.” We all headed to room ‘620’.

Once we arrived at room’620’, it was no surprise to most of us that the room was empty. Something strange was going on on the 6th floor and it was time to leave. However, a few of our group members wanted to stay and explore a little more. After a little discussion, we all decided to check out more rooms. There were 30 rooms on that floor with several turns and corners that seem to be getting creepier and creepier as the night went along. But this didn’t really scare us, just that some of us were tired and annoyed with what seems like tricks being played on us. We decided to return to our suites on the 3rd floor to use the facilities and to check on how the party was going in Mike’s room.

We all agreed to meet back at the elevator in five minutes to continue our search for ghosts on the 6th floor. Once on the 3rd floor, we parted to our suites. I remember walking into the bathroom of my room, but I don’t remember anything else. The next morning I awoke to find myself in my bed, and unable to move. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts and realize where I was and what was going on. I realized I was in bed with the top sheet and blanket tucked so tight, that I couldn’t move. I had to toss from side-to-side to loosen the sheets in order for me to get out of bed. Once I was up and out of bed, I noticed I had my full uniform on including bow tie and dress jacket. I had basically been in a perfectly made bed in complete uniform with my navy hat and shoes tucked neatly under the bed. “What is this?” I thought.

Confused, I walked out into the hallway where the five other sailors from last night’s ghost search walked out of their room at the same time (Like a scene from a Twilight Zone episode). Everyone was still in uniform and had a look of shock and bewilderment on their faces. We all at once said, “What happened?” No one seemed to have an answer. I told them of my bathroom incident. Mike said he returned to his room to find a beautiful, naked woman waiting for him, but that’s all he remembered. Everyone had stories of being alert and about to do something, but didn’t remember anything else or any sort of outcome. As everyone else on our floor from the Navy Ball was packing and checking out to leave, they were laughing and pointing and asking the six of us why were we still in our uniforms at 10:00 in the morning? We couldn’t help but wonder……”Did last night really happen?” Or, were we pranked by a bunch of partying ghosts?”

"I served in the military, too....."

This article is a little different from my previous writings....….


During my time in the Navy, and as a civilian, I have heard many wives and mothers, especially wives say that they served in the military just as their husbands had. What they are basically saying, due to the demands and sometimes strenuous military life, many of the wives honestly felt like they went through the same military experiences as their husbands. And during war times, many mothers and wives worried so much about their sons and daughters, or husbands that many of them suffered from high blood pressure, strokes, and other physical ailments that required medical attention, especially if they ended up losing a loved one to death.


However, it annoys me that so many wives actually claim having been in the service to the point that they start to believe it. First of all, I will say that I have personally witnessed many very supportive wives of their husband’s military career. Many of them stuck with their man through all the travels, school changes, culture shock, and the everyday military "stuff". Then there are the wonderful mothers who send care packages to the sons and daughters overseas and even send enough “goodies” for them to share with other comrades. I have witnessed the generosity and strength of the wives and mothers, and their contributions of letter writing to troops overseas, and their concerns in general. No one can deny the fact that wives and mothers have helped military personnel handle the loneliness, and the death and destruction of war during very trying times. Love and support goes a long way, and no one can deny the power of a spouses or mother’s love. But it is still not the same as serving in the military, or actually wearing the uniform!

My final draw to this subject came one day at work. I was attending a seminar on post traumatic stress disorder and the Vietnam veteran (I worked for the Veteran Affairs (VA)), when the speaker asked “Who in here served in the military?” Several hands went up. He then began to ask us individually to share the branch of service we had been in, and a little about our time in service if we cared to. The speaker asked one lady that had raised her hand to stand and tell us about her experiences. “Oh, I never served in the military. It’s just that my job as a counselor allows me to hear so many stories from veterans -- that I feel like I served too.” That was about all I could take. Years of listening to this same statement over and over again finally took its toll on me….. “Ma’am, excuse me, but I have to say something…..if you didn’t actually wear the uniform, spend time in a jungle dodging bullets, or are suffering from some serious mental issues from having served, then you didn’t actually serve in the military. We have veterans here with serious issues such as broken limbs, missing limbs, serious mental disabilities, and many of them are paralyzed, and you’re claiming to have served in the military because you sympathized with their war stories! You can’t claim military service just because you heard a war story. If that’s the case, most people can say they were in the military.”

I had a co-worker who had been in the army, she watched eight (8) of her comrades die because someone threw a bomb into their tent while she was in the Gulf War during the early 90s. She was the lone survivor and received a purple heart for her injuries. She has also been in counseling for years because of the incident and the memories; she lost several good friends in the explosion, and has had several skin graphs as well. Because we both are females, we both served in the military, although she was army and I was navy, and we’re both around the same age; I guess I can say that I was in that tent as well and received a purple heart. I don’t think so. I can empathize with her, and I understand the military culture, but I can’t claim her pain. And no one can claim military service if they weren’t there to live it or witness it first hand.

Feeling sympathy and the pain of a loved one who is serving, or who has served in the military, is not the same as the person who is serving, or who has actually served in the military with the battle scars to prove it!

The Pilot and the Navy Girl

For those who believe in romance............


On my way back from London, after a wonderful weekend of visiting the sights and posh hangouts for the stars, like the famous Stringfellows Night Club, I was ready to get back to my navy base and prepare for work on Monday. I didn’t expect much to happen on my flight back. Nothing exciting has ever taken place before on this short journey, so what would make this trip any different? I would often fly to London for the weekend just to get away from my small town for a change of scenery or treat myself to a spa treatment at the famous Harrods department store. Since the flight was short, we flew on what I always called a “little bird” or a “floop, floop” of a plane; the kind of plane where you had to bend over when you boarded, and the kind that didn’t have a bathroom. Basically, the kind of plane you couldn’t wait to get off of……..They didn’t even serve peanuts!

I was a little tired after my weekend, and just wanted to sleep for the next 45 minutes. So I really didn’t think much of the well dressed, attractive gentleman that sat next to me. “My, he seems energetic and refreshed,” I thought to myself. I just wanted to sleep, but his energy was starting to overwhelm me to the point that I wasn’t sleepy anymore. He eventually started a conversation with me by asking me where I was going. I immediately noticed his thick accent and asked him where he was from? He informed me he was from India but was now living in England (just a few towns away from where I lived). Since he wouldn’t let me sleep, I decided I would engage him in conversation. I began to think the fair-skinned man from India was quite interesting, actually. He informed me he was a pilot for a major airline and he would be off for the next few days (no wonder he was so happy).

I became fascinated with him being a pilot and preceded to ask him a thousand questions about his travels and what it was like to be a pilot. Of course he loved being a pilot. He also told me of his anxiety about making the next step to captain. He was up for a promotion to captain soon, which would mean he would be flying his own plane and no longer sitting in as co-pilot. He told me this was what he had been working and waiting for. I felt his enthusiasm and sincerely wished him all the luck in his career.

It was almost time for us to arrive at our destination and depart ways. I told him it was nice talking to him and maybe we will meet again one day on another flight from London. My new acquaintance didn’t hesitate when he said he would like to see me again and would it be possible? I immediately asked him if he was married. I figured someone probably had snatched a successful man like him up by now. “No, I’m not. I’ve never been married and I don’t have any kids either.” “Then, I guess it will be possible for you to see me again.” I gave him my phone number, which he vowed he would be using very soon.

I heard from my pilot friend a week later. With the same energetic enthusiasm he displayed a week earlier, he asked me if I would like to have dinner with him the coming weekend. Of course, I agreed. I found it difficult to resist such a charming, sophisticated gentleman.

Our first date was at a very fine restaurant where we talked for hours getting to know each other. Feeling comfortable with each other, having a good time and laughing like two teenagers, thus began a whirlwind romance between the 32 year old pilot and the 22 year old Navy girl.

The next few months were filled with extravagant dinners, exotic weekend getaways, visits to castles and other historical locations. I was having the time of my life! During the past few months, I had been thoroughly spoiled rotten! And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, a page ripped right out of a fictional romance novel became my reality, a reality that took my breath away, literally.

My dear pilot friend had taken several tests in hopes of being promoted to captain and had been on pins and needles for weeks. Early one Saturday morning, I was awakened by a knock on my door from a female resident who informed me I had an urgent call downstairs (I lived in the barracks on base and the only community pay phone was downstairs. No cell phones at that time). “Urgent,” I thought. I wondered what it could be……Who it could be? I was hoping that it wasn’t my mother calling from the United States with bad news.

I finally made it downstairs where the waiting receiver was hanging on a chair. When I touched the receiver, I could feel a familiar surge of energy that went through me. “Hello.” “HELLO, V!” “It’s me, how are you?” “I AM DOING FANTASTIC!” “I HAVE GREAT NEWS!” “Really, what is it?” “I found out this morning that I made CAPTAIN!” “Fantastic!” “Congratulations!” “I’m really happy and proud for you.” “I KNOW, ISN’T IT GREAT NEWS!” “I can tell you are really excited about this.” “V, I WANT TO CELEBRATE.” “Okay.” “LET’S GO TO PARIS!” “What did you say?” “LET’S GO TO PARIS THIS WEEKEND AND CELEBRATE!” “WE’LL PAINT THE TOWN RED!” “Paris?” “But I don’t have………” “DON’T WORRY ABOUT A THING; I WILL TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING!” “JUST SAY YOU WILL COME TO PARIS WITH ME.” (Somebody pinch me, I must still be sleeping. I know he didn’t say “Paris.”) “ARE YOU THERE, V?” “I’m still here (barely).” “WELL SAY SOMETHING.” “What?” “ARE YOU HEARING ME, V?” “What (I couldn’t speak. I only knew one word.)?” “I WANT YOU TO MEET ME IN LONDON IN THE NEXT TWO HOURS.” (I finally found words.) “The next two hours?” “That’s not a lot of time to pack or……..” “FORGET ALL THAT. I WILL BUY YOU WHATEVER YOU NEED WHEN WE GET TO PARIS…………CLOTHES, JEWELRY, TOOTHBRUSH…….ALL YOU NEED IS TO BRING YOURSELF AND I WILL TAKE CARE OF THE REST!”

Wow! Is still my thought about that day. I really hate to disappoint you romantics out there, but I declined the invitation. I know, moments like that day don’t come along often. The reason I turned down the trip --- I was sick! I didn’t feel well on that day --of all the times to get sick! Not even a pill would have made me well enough to jump on that plane. If he could have called the next week, the outcome would have been different. Guaranteed! Sorry to disappoint. I have no stories of romantic walks under the moon or bright lights of Paris…………………

For six months of my life, I was able to experience a fairytale-like romance that will never be forgotten. I believe all women should at least, once in their life experience a fairytale romance, even if it’s brief; because no matter how brief, the memories and feeling will last a lifetime.

The brief love of my life was romantic, chivalrous, generous, and always the gentleman; characteristics that make a man unforgettable. He may have been a first class pilot, but I was the one flying high!

Romance and the Overseas Sailor

For the sailor stationed overseas (abroad), romance can be a tricky thing, especially for the female sailor. In many foreign countries where there are military personnel, we are considered the rich people of the land. This can be a good thing for many reasons. For instance, when I was stationed in Panama, the dollar was worth three times the Panamanian dollar, and it was also great that the currency was the same – the dollar.

I didn’t have to do any exchanges of funny looking “play” money that was too big for my wallet. Because the American dollar was worth so much more, I personally was able to have a housekeeper come in once a week to clean my condo from port to starboard, and press and crease my uniforms to military perfection for the extraordinary salary of $7.00. But because I felt guilty, I gave her $12.00. The $7.00 was the standard. No, I wasn’t being cheap or sarcastic.

Other military families chose to really live high-on-the-hog by hiring a gardener, a cook, a seamstress and a live–in nanny for the children. And this was all very affordable for military families that chose to live in this manner. So now that you have an understanding of the economic situation in some lands where the military are concerned, you will better understand my story.


On most of the military bases where I was stationed, there were thousands of military personnel, so there was never really a problem with finding another American to date. The exception was on small bases like the one in England where I was stationed, that had only 200 American military people total (Marines and Sailors both). Most of the military personnel were males with maybe 25 or less military females, which all but a handful were single. So you would think the females wouldn’t have a problem dating an American if they chose to, right? Think again!

See, many of us were very young and away from home for the first time, and this held especially true for the young American men. They were young, single, and most were handsome, muscular, energetic, and had a pocket full of money to spend. The marines especially were considered a mighty fine prize. During my time in the military, there was no such thing as an overweight marine; they were all “Lean, Mean, Fighting Machines,” and admired and desired by both American and the local girls.

It was also in the marines favor, that they had performed several heroic acts that placed them on the front page of the local paper more than once. Some of their heroic acts included: rescuing a family from a burning building, saving a little girl’s cat from the same burning building, rescued victims from a car crash before it caught on fire, and ensuring that elderly ladies in town got home safely (The elder ladies in town loved the U.S. Marines; they were such gentlemen), and they always showed solidarity with each other “You mess with one marine, you mess with us all,” was there motto.

Then there was the other side. When the marines weren’t being hailed as heroes, they were fighting with the local males and destroying some local owner’s Pub in the process, which also caused them to be the top local news story more than once. There was definitely a love/hate relationship with the marines in this small England town.

Since the marines had a reputation for being “bad boys” and “good boys” at the same time, they had many local female admirers that weren’t afraid to let them know it! It seems the handful of American girls didn’t stand a chance against the starry-eyed starlets who looked up to our male counterparts as American gods!

Meanwhile, during what we called our dry spell (they never lasted long), we ladies of all ethnicities would have “girls night.” As the males went out to play “hero” and “sugar daddy” to the locals, we would drink wine, listen to music, watch videos of the latest American made movies and talk much trash! And I do mean trash. We were ladies, but we were also sailors who had been drinking! We had some great times during these brief “dry spells.” But don’t you think for a minute that we didn’t have our admirers.

In case your wondering what these women looked liked, we were all attractive young women. Don’t get any ideas about us looking like “dikeish military broads” (I know what some people think of military women). It was not that we didn’t have any other options; we chose to stay home, get drunk and talk trash.

The local men even took a fancy to us American girls as well. They often asked us out on dates, with a line that always went a little something like: “When are you going take me out?” “What?” “When are you going to take me out?” “I really do fancy you?” “Take you out?” “Yeah, take me out.” “You can’t bloody hear?” “You girls make three times the money of us blokes. You can’t possibly think that we can take you out, do you?” “And you possibly can’t think that I would want to take you out with such an appealing invitation, do you?”

None of us girls were interested in playing “sugar mama” to the local “blokes.” We would rather spend the cold England nights drinking hot chocolate in our pajamas, and talking more trash. The locals just didn’t seem to have the charm to capture the attention of an American beauty they so desired.

Soon, however, there was a warm breeze felt in the cold English air that would envelope one young lady and take her on a whirlwind of a romance that she will never forget.

Stay tuned………………………

"Where the ghost at......?"

As youngsters, were full of mischief, adventure and some of us even had a bit of dare devil in us. I’m sure some of you adults can relate to what I am saying. When I was a kid, I was fascinated with horror movies. My favorites were the old Dracula movies and movies with Boris Korloff - he was so creepy! I used to watch him every Saturday afternoon in masterpiece theatre, which presented several horror movies one after the other. What those movies all had in common was that they normally took place in some haunted town in England. I vowed when I was a little girl, that I would go to England and find out if, in fact, it was full of haunted castles, vampires and ghosts.

Well, let me share with you one of my most memorable, mischievous adventures as a young person.

I was 21 years old when my dream of going to England came true. It was by way of the Navy, but I had arrived! My first order of business, once I unpacked and went through normal military protocol, was to go find me some ghosts!

A few days after arriving in my little English town, I hired a more than eager cab driver to show me all the haunted spots. He informed me it was better to go at night. Once night came, he picked me up from my barracks where we preceded into the dark night to find…..demons! I guess there really is no other way to say it. In reality we were hunting down the evil. As we were riding along, I was getting exited about being in England and seeing some of the very houses and castles that were in haunted movies I spent so many years watching. My excitement started to fade as we left the bright city lights and entered into what seemed like scary darkness. Whoa! This was getting creepy.

The cab driver finally pointed out a house that had been used for filming horror movies. He showed me another house where a man had killed his family and his farm animals in a drunken night of insanity. All of a sudden, while we were standing outside the cab on a dirt road in front of the insane killer’s house, I noticed the crops were leaning over but there was no wind. I asked the cab driver “why were the crops leaning over as if a strong wind was blowing?" He calmly said in a thick English accent, “Oh, this place is known for strange happenings, and if we stay a while, you’ll hear blood curdling screams!" With the crops bent over sideways, the night seeming a little blacker than normal, and the cab driver starting to creep me out with his too calm of a demeanor, I was ready to get the heck out of there!

Over the next few months, I did a lot of ghost searching, but this time I brought along a few friends – my fellow, adventurous Navy buddies. There were about eight of us male and female. We had many weekend adventures tracking down our ghoulish prey. We were like a serious group of ghost scientists on a mission, armed with a notebook, pencils, a few bats, a camera and each other for witnesses; a notebook and pencils to write down useful information, bats for protection and a camera to show proof that there are ghosts out there, and we saw them!

Our “research” included taking action on stories told to us by the locals. Old men told us intriguing stories of locally haunted homes and their locations. Of course, we had to follow-up on these stories to see if truth was in them. To find what we were looking for, we trespassed, shared a barn with pigs and cows (unbeknown to the owner), slept on the damp ground at a lake while waiting for the “legendary evil lady dressed in white” to rise from it when the clock struck midnight. The clock did strike midnight; however, she never did rise from the lake.

We were also chased off a farm by a half-dressed man wielding a rifle; threatened by the sight of angry pigs coming after us on another site, and scared off the site of a haunted house by two bunny rabbits accompanied by a herd of goats. I kidd you not folks! This was all part of the excitement and in no way deterred us from continuing our research. Until………….

One night we finally stumbled onto something interesting. It was a full moon, and we were bound to come in contact with something interesting we thought. We all could feel it. This was the night. All eight of us stood in a circle under the full moon, surrounded by a crop of corn, on land that we once again had trespassed, chanting some odd nonsense to try and awaken something that we should have left alone. All of a sudden, we started to hear odd noises and running. We called out to see who was there. “Hello!" “Anyone there?” “Who’s there?” No one answered, so we got back to our ritual. Once again, we heard this running sound. We searched and looked around to see where this was coming from. Then we saw it! Oh, my God! Something was floating towards us through the corn field, and we could see right through it! We ran like the wind and got out of there as fast as we could. No, we didn’t get any pictures. We didn’t care about pictures at this point! We were running for our lives! The only thought I had was…….feet don’t fail me now! We ran until we reached the car, jumped in, took off and never looked back until we reached the safety of the naval base. We had been ghost chasing for months, and in the end, we were the ones chased by a ghost! Ironic, isn’t it?

We never did make mention of that night again. I finally came to the conclusion that perhaps some parts of England do have some interesting history with even more interesting unseen residents. But I no longer care to seek them out…..Hey, if they aren’t bothering me, why should I bother them?

I'm the Captain of my Ship!

As a female veteran that served 10 honorable years in the Navy, I would like to express my experience in the military during the 1980’s. The attitude during this time was, if a woman joined the military, she was looking for a husband. The males called us “Waves” and even had disrespectful sayings such as: “We're riding the Waves”! I will personally say from my own experience and the experience of several other female sailors, none of us enlisted in the military to find a husband!

There were many reasons as to why we decided as young woman to leave the safety of our homes and family and explore the world by “Sailing the Seven Seas” so to speak. I would say, mainly, because we were defiant and rebelling! Why should males be the only ones to have all the fun and go out into the world and live life to its fullest, while women were expected to remain innocent to the truth and be beguiled by men’s over exaggerated tales and fantasies about their life experiences!

As for me, I didn’t want to imagine anymore. I wanted to find out on my own what else the world had to offer besides cooking, cleaning, and the expectation of getting married and having babies as soon as I graduated from high school. Some girls joined the Navy to escape an abusive home or a bad relationship, and we even had a divorced high school teacher that joined at the age of 32. She said she wanted to get out and go into the world and travel to some of the countries and lands that she spent so many years teaching her students about.

No matter what the reason for myself and other females joining the military, most of us had in common a strong desire to make it on our own. Oh, it was pretty darn scary at first, but I caught on and got the hang of it and in the long run, I became a strong, independent woman. I also found out the world is a very interesting place indeed. I could say a whole lot about women and independence and the impact it has had on society and the women of today, but I am not going to go there! My main point was to share my thoughts and experience as a Navy girl during the 80’s. I don’t know if the same attitude about women in the military still exist today, but I would love to hear from women currently serving in the military. It’s been over 12 years since I was in the Navy; I would love to hear if attitudes have changed for the better over the years.

I just want to point out before I end this blog, in case some of you think I sound angry, that I am not a hostile or angry female. I happen to love men and wouldn’t want to live in this exciting world without them. However, a woman’s world doesn’t always revolve around men!