Keep Your Friends Close
The military has a way of binding strangers together, perhaps because of the intensity of our shared experience. It’s more than a job. It’s our whole life.
And it’s different from most of the civilian world.
It’s where we go to the doctor and buy groceries. It’s where our kids attend school and play sports. It’s where we spend holidays with friends and swim in community pools. It’s where we say tearful goodbyes and celebrate happy homecomings.
Over the years, the people with whom we do all of this weave together a communal quilt of sorts that only grows larger the longer we stay.
With every new assignment we add squares, so this mismatched patchwork extends to the edges, becoming heavy with memories and friends.
In my experience, the secret to enjoying this roller coaster of a life is letting yourself enjoy, grow close with, and learn from the people that fill it.
A lesson from an old aviator
My Dad flew jets in the Navy long before I arrived on the planet, but his years landing on an aircraft carrier during the Korean War stuck with him.
50 years later, he sent me an email after he met Nick, my boyfriend at the time, also a Navy jet pilot. His words proved prophetic:
“You might not live in the best places, but you’ll be surrounded by the best people.”
3 years, two deployments, and one wedding later, Nick and I moved to Fallon, Nevada. The high desert proved challenging in so many ways.
I traded my job in California for quiet days at home. Nick disappeared in the wee, dark hours of the morning, and returned in the evenings, sometimes quite late.
He couldn’t have his phone in the building where he worked, and I only knew one person up there when we moved. I mostly spent my days alone until I overcame those awkward first steps toward making friends.
Finding your people
I can’t speak for the service members, but as a spouse, it’s hard in the beginning - navigating chilly, surface-level conversations while folks who’ve been there longer cackle in a corner.
It took about a year or so before that was me in Fallon, and I’d found my people.
The military, and maybe especially those remote bases scattered across federal land around the world, fosters connections that stick with you.
You either make real friends as quickly as you can or deal with loneliness and isolation, living far from parents and siblings and spending lots of time in transition.
Even after all these years, “finding your people” takes time, effort, and a little bit of luck. But when you do, they’re permanent fixtures, not just from a duty station, but in your life.
Over time, they become like family.
Attending Courtney’s nursing school graduation with some of our nearest and dearest.
Learning from our friends
The military gives us a front-row seat to our friends’ lives in ways the civilian world just doesn’t.
We live together, sometimes sharing walls in a duplex or floors and ceilings in a German “stairwell” apartment, sometimes sharing lawns as neighbors without fences.
Nick and I had kids a little later than most of our Navy circle, and we learned one of our most important lessons - how to be parents - by watching our friends up close, everyday.
I gleaned so much from the moms: the value of schedules and consistency, resilience, how to parent through a deployment, a move, and so on.
Mostly, I learned how to lean on friends as you navigate motherhood, something that’s stuck with me to this day. I don’t parent in a vacuum.
Just say ’yes’
The dads taught Nick how to be a Dad and be in the military, how to walk that delicate tightrope of needing to prioritize work and also be there for your family.
Our friend (and Nick’s colleague) lived right next door to us in Fallon, Nevada.
I remember seeing Jake pull up at the house, and his son - a toddler at the time - waiting on the lawn to greet him.
Jake would throw a ball with him out there as long as they had light, still in his flight suit, not even making it through the front door despite being at work since before sunrise.
He was one of many dads who taught us to say “yes” to our kids. Even when you’re tired, even after a long day.
Perhaps without realizing it, Jake left an indelible mark on us as parents and friends.
I think about that when I’m tired and the kids want to play or watch a show with us or read or chat at bedtime.
Be patient, I tell myself. Say “yes.” The years are short. I see Nick doing the same, and I know we learned that from having a front row seat to our friends as parents.
Everyday life is special
A few days ago, I got a sweet text from another friend.
We were all reeling from the news that Jake - the one and only - had unexpectedly passed away, prompting friends from every corner of naval aviation to reconnect, check in, and reflect.
She wrote: “Sending love to those I love… I love you and can’t imagine our time in Lemoore without you. I sure wish we took more pictures.”
Same. But I thought, we take pictures of special occasions, not our everyday life, and we were part of each other’s.
Military friends become the fabric that weaves through everything we do, everyday: grocery trips and Target runs, impromptu dinners and tee ball games, tantrums and tutus, school drop-offs and deployments.
It doesn’t feel “special,” even though it most certainly is.
Capturing it
I’m grateful when one of us thinks about picking up a phone or camera to snap the “everyday” moment.
A few months ago, Jake was in DC for work and we had him and some friends from Fallon over for dinner. Every time we see any one of our military friends, it’s easy and light, like no time has passed - an “everyday” occasion.
As everyone packed up to leave, Jake handed me his phone and asked me to snap a picture of the guys. I remember being so glad he did! We tracked down the photo the other day and will treasure it.
Military life has its ups and downs, its unique hardships and challenges, but the juice has always been worth the squeeze because of the friends we’ve made along the way.
There will be lots to say about Jake, our beloved friend, in the weeks and months to come, I’m sure. But for now I’ll just say this:
In the military, work gives our lives purpose, but friends give our lives meaning.
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