Month: September 2009

The D-word

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A recent post by ENS Wifey got me thinking about something a well-meaning family member said to me when I expressed concern over a central aspect of my husband’s chosen career.  A couple years ago, my father-in-law (retired SWO and all-around awesome guy who has Been There and Done That) mentioned something about deployment, and I quipped that he shouldn’t say that dirty word in polite company.  That brought the conversation to a halt.  He told me I shouldn’t think of it that way, but rather as a good thing, an opportunity for growth, and so on and so forth.

Spoken like someone who has always been the one leaving to Do Things around the globe rather than the one left back at home, right?

I would never try to argue that deployed servicemembers have it “easier” or “better” than their spouses, but I do think a very different kind of dread accompanies the prospect of being the one who must passively wait and worry than the one who is actively involved in the mission du jour.

I know my father-in-law was trying to be encouraging–I do appreciate that–but it’s just a step too far for me to be able to look at the D-word as a good thing. I can manage that it’s not a terrible thing nor the end of the world nor cause to fall apart into a wibbly pile of emotional Jell-o, and even that it might indeed be an opportunity for growth, but I am not going to pretend that I look forward to being separated from my husband for months at a stretch.

September Snuck Up

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September’s arrival brought with it a refreshing drop in temperature, a breath of autumn that puts me in mind of new school supplies and apple-picking with Hillel.  Alas, I neither have need of new school supplies, nor am I any longer a member of Hillel’s target demographic.  (For the goyim, Hillel is an organization for Jewish college students; I was heavily involved in my college’s chapter back in the day.)  The lifting of summer’s lethargy that comes with the cooler weather is welcome even in my post-academic life, though, and I’m getting excited about the coming fall.

Rosh Hashanah is coming up, with its promises of apples and honey in hopes of a sweet new year.  In fact, friend of mine from college just sent me a link to a delectable-sounding apple and honey challah that might have to find its way into my baking rotation for the holiday.  It would be more fun, of course, if I could look forward to the annual apple-picking trip with a Jewish community of my peers, but we haven’t found a group in our area that evokes the same sort of camaraderie.  Part of it is that we’re stuck between ages or phases of life that have strong support groups.   Having graduated years ago, we’re too old for Hillel.  We’re married, so Jewish singles groups are out.  We don’t have children yet, so we aren’t networking with parents taking their kids to Hebrew school, either.  I know some synagogues have “Young Professionals” groups that cater to those in our situation, but our shul isn’t one of them.

Oh well.  It’s not like we’re stationed someplace with no Jewish community whatsoever, which could easily become the case if we wind up in Japan.  I just get a little sad thinking that for as long as we’re moving at least every three, we will perpetually be “the new couple” at whatever synagogue we attend (let’s face it: there are some shuls where you can be “the new couple” for ten years or more).  It would be nice to meet some local folks our age with whom we could exchange Shabbat dinner invitations from time to time.  It’s tough–some would say impossible–to be a Jew in a vacuum, but we don’t have the luxury of putting down roots in one community and letting relationships develop slowly over many years.  Couple that with the fact that both my husband and I are inclined towards introversion, and we’ve got ourselves a problem for which we haven’t yet found a solution.  But who knows?  Maybe the upcoming year 5770 holds some fresh insights for us.

Ah well, social maunderings can’t detract too much from my overall anticipation of the new season.  My baby (!) brother is turning twenty-one, my college roommate is getting married to my husband’s college roommate (sounds like a sit-com, huh?), and we are lucky enough to be spending this autumn in a part of the country filled with deciduous trees that will soon be turning glorious colors.  Life is good.