CHANNELING AHEAD

Army Brats

Why I’ve Been Ghosting and Ghosted Much of My Life

Most people are not aware of what it is like to be an Army brat. It is both an honor and an explanation about the person so designated.

Army brats, for the most part, as many other service families, are hauled around from one military base to another. The times between the army bases we were stationed at went from 18 months to three years.

You learned to lean on the family. Your friendships were necessarily short. Nobody protested. That was life. You got dragged around. As adults, I am sure we all have problems with relationships.

I learned to duck and run. Quickly. Outside of Army life, once I was an adult, I ended up ghosting a lot of people, but then some of them ghosted me too. I didn’t even know that was a term until recently. There was, from my point of view as an Army Brat, much grief. It was hard to say goodbye to a dear friend, knowing you would probably never see them again. Yep, lots of grief.

Of course, we wrote letters to each other for a while. Back when my handwriting was larger and mostly optimistic. Likely, there might be a technical term that could be employed, like a dissociative disorder or an unwillingness to commit.

There were two telling moments early on in Dennis’ and my marriage that happened. They really let me know now that I was married, I was in a different world.

One was when he and I stayed in the same location for seven years at the beginning of our married life. It was a few years prior to our move back Stateside that I got itchy feet. It was time to move, and we weren’t moving. Now, I don’t have that problem, although I’ve never really set down roots here in Oakland, California. I’ve lived here in the same house since 1989, and it still does not feel like home. I don’t suppose it ever will. I don’t worry about it now. But when people ask me where I’m from, I tell them, “Nowhere and everywhere.” Home is where you hang your hat.

It’s funny, but contemplating a move to another place in the same city, or even in the state, is harder to think about than moving across the pond to England, Scotland, Norway, France, Italy, Germany, or Spain. I’d go there in a heartbeat and not for a visit. For the rest of my life. If you’re going to move that far, you might as well stay a while.

The other thing that happened were the disagreements I might have with people that needed some sort of resolution. I’d never had that problem once in my life. Wait long enough, and one or the other of you were going to leave.

It was difficult, and even now, I’d rather ghost the bunch of them rather than punch somebody in the face. So, ghosting is nothing new to me, and is still actively employed. Nobody gets hurt, and the problems go away. Maybe that was the point of the anger management class I took. I didn’t think I needed it, but people suggested I go. What I was afraid of in that class was the park ranger I always sat next to that kept muttering under her breath about all the people on Bay Area freeways she wanted to shoot. Yeah, that was strange. I hope she got some help. She liked being in the woods better than being in the city. This all happened in the days before mass carnage happened so often. Now? I think I might mention it to the class teacher. Then? I was a really scared rabbit.

I have encountered a few people who would not stay ghosted. Had they been Army Brats, there would have been no problem. It took them a long time to get the message that I didn’t want to have anything to do with them anymore. You might say something was wrong with them that they didn’t take the hint. On the other hand, you might also think there is something wrong with me. I really don’t care. I’m too old to care.

My husband and I have been together for 47 years come next month. That is the only commitment I need in my life. It’s the only one I want.

We are both writers, and writing, unless you are collaborating with somebody else, is an occupation you have to do on your own. We give each other the space we need to do our writing.

Dennis is a more social person than I am. I remember one job he had where we showed up for a company party, and a lot of people kept saying they were amazed to see me. They thought Dennis had been making me up all those years. I actually don’t remember them and likely never saw them again. With a reception like that? Who would go back? Maybe they had all had a snoot full first and had gotten mouthy and loud. Scared the crap out of me.

I’ve been holed up here at the house since September 2019. Covid hit, and I stayed home to write. Eventually, I got Covid after I’d been in the house for two years. For two fricking years, I stayed in the house writing, and the first time I leave it for a company party, three days later, I got Covid. So, I dived back in again, and for the last 20 months or so, I’ve just been home. Writing.

I did go out twice this last week. I spent Tuesday at a Mystery Writer presentation in Alameda and on Thursday at a friend’s memorial in El Sobrante. Each day out took a lot out of me physically. I don’t know if they call it Long Covid or what, but I am not yet back to normal. I did develop a really healthy case of agoraphobia during these last few years. Getting out twice a week is pretty good for me. Maybe I will be able to walk to the corner soon. At least I could hobble down the steps and check the mailbox. “What are you going to do today? I think I will check the mail.”

Anyway, generally speaking, Army brats know how to land on their feet. I had no idea we were a breed apart until I went to my first private school in the 10th grade, where the students had known each other since kindergarten, and there were only a few other Army Brats. What really drove it home was when my best friend at that school told me she used to be best friends with her most mortal enemy. I did not understand. It was later that I learned they all thought I was a hippie. I came wearing round wire frames like John Lennon used to wear and a mini-skirt. They thought I was “fast.” Well, it turned out a lot of them were a hell of a lot faster than I was.

It didn’t matter. I left after the end of the school year and never looked back.

It was a difficult childhood to navigate and resulted in a really big boatload of introspective work to chew my way through as an adult. However, could I have handled being a medium? It’s a wonderful job, but it can sometimes be tough, especially in the beginning when you’re trying to sort through all the voices in your head.

Spirit commences clapping.

Thanks, guys and thank you for reading.

I’d appreciate it if you all followed and subscribed to my emails. I get maybe 10 stories a month written. Some are funny or at least tongue-in-cheek. Sometimes I talked to dead folks or to my spirit guide. Oh, wait. Elvis wants to say something.

Really? You guys aren’t pulling my leg?

No. (Swivels hips)

I think this is the end of the article. I’m having a hot flash.

I could hum a tune if you like.

I’ve never translated something like that to paper.

Well, there’s always a first. New song: It’s late in the morning, not quite lunchtime. I’m waiting outside for Mom to clang the triangle. She doesn’t know I’m just around back, hiding from Pa and waiting for lunch. It was 5 am when we got up this morning. A cup of coffee set us on our way to milk the cows once the sun was up, to lead them to the pasture after, to slop the pigs, to scatter grain for the hens, and look for their eggs. Found a salamander on a rock. It was sunning itself. Ma had asked us to deadhead her marigolds and bring them back in. She sets them on paper and will take the seeds for next year. They keep the bugs off her crops. I snuck in some berries when I got hungry mid-morn. Enough to wait for the clanging for supper.

That was really Elis?

Of course, it was. We’ve talked before. Nothing you like better than to listen to me sing some hymns.

I’ll leave one below for folks to watch if they’d like it.