Germany

Welcome to a US military bubble abroad

I grew up hearing of my father’s love of all things German. His beer steins and beer-stein-like coffee mugs, wooden Christmas ornaments, and tales of wiener schnitzel brought a happy glint to his eye. His mother was half German, but that wasn’t where this fixation came from (which, when speaking of England, is precisely because of his father’s lineage).

Oktoberfest isn't just for October!

My father spent a couple of his Army years in Germany.

After running out of money for college, my father joined the military. He would ultimately cobble together credits for a degree—claiming basic training as PE credit (for real?)—so he could use the GI Bill to go to law school. But the time he spent in Germany came at that formative moment in young adulthood when you’re first away from home and without the structure of school.

Okay, well, the Army most certainly stepped in to provide a great deal of structure…

And now at roughly the same age, as a law student intern, I found myself in Stuttgart for my first overseas work trip.

Only having two or three days in town, and most of those in meetings or meals following the more senior members of my traveling party, I didn’t see anything outside of the US military bubble. Returning on subsequent trips to the same base, I didn’t do any better. Fly into the massive United hub known as Frankfurt and then transfer for the short skip over to Stuttgart.

Little did I know that the bubble construct would reappear in my life repeatedly.

Also known as a fish bowl, the US military and diplomatic corps overseas often houses officers and families in bases, compounds, and assigned buildings that take on a cloistered atmosphere. For some, this feels supportive. Young kids typically LOVE it because they are surrounded by friends that they can see all the time without the constraints of parents’ schedules and traffic and non-walkable communities. Some non-working adults enjoy it because they feel less alone and overwhelmed by new cultures and languages living amongst fellow Americans with similar circumstances.

And then there are those of us who just don’t fit.

My hometown was a suburb without a city where everyone knew everything about everyone, and if you didn’t fit in with the main crowd, you didn’t have a lot of other options. As you may suspect, fitting in isn’t a skillset of mine, which became apparent in elementary school.

Fast forward to my three overseas tours, and the pressures of living and working and raising a family with the same set of people that I didn’t choose has worn on me. Where I had a position of authority and respect and could choose my friends and move about freely [cough, Bangkok!], I could push through.

Where I couldn’t, it has been a struggle.

But the only thing worse than being an underemployed, alpha career woman trapped in cement for the direction of a spouse’s tour amongst a lot of expectant stay-at-home moms (at least half, only because they lacked employment options) is being a teen in that position who has absolutely no say in the matter.

I grew up as the daughter of a small-town criminal prosecutor taught to say, “No bail,” should I ever get in trouble with the police because nothing they would dole out would approach my parents’ ire.

But teenagers dragged from place to place every 1-3 years under the judging eyes of their parents’ colleagues, bosses, and subordinates?

Damn, I feel for them.

I can only imagine the vast majority would never choose this life for themselves, and a nasty little urban legend is that if you bring a teen to a psych in Northern Virginia, the first question you get is whether the parents work for one of these tribes.

Ooooooph

As tough as this final tour has been on me [been white knuckling it for over a year with 10 months and one week to go…], I have promised my children that this is it. They will return to our house in McLean before middle school, and we will stay put.

Adventures have their time and place.

But there is one other trip to Germany that has escaped mention.

When my husband and I discussed marriage in the particular bubble known as Kabul, we wanted something epic and just for us.

Our tours ended on a Friday, and we landed at Dulles on a Saturday morning. Monday, we got married in the Fairfax courthouse and returned to the airport, off to Munich.

And Wednesday?

We had a wedding ceremony at Neuschwanstein Castle.

So, thank you, Germany. One day, I’ll manage to see Berlin

!