Michelle Ule's Blog, page 97

Some Thoughts on Fears and Phobias

 ”To be afraid of, expect with alarm.” ~ Webster’s Dictionary

“Fear is the ability to recognize danger leading to an urge to confront it or flee from it.” ~Wikipedia

“Fear not.” ~ The Angel Gabriel and others

“Do not fear.”~ Jesus.

“False Evidence Appearing Real” ~Somewhere on the Internet

Fear is also one of the themes of Bridging Two Hearts where Amy is terrified of the Coronado Bridge and Josh, a Navy SEAL, who doesn’t believe he’s afraid of anything. (Though small spaces bother him after a recent near-tragic assignment).

Fears and phobias are related, of course, though phobias often have a psychological component and frequently need professional help to overcome.

The list of phobias–φόβος,  Greek for fear–is endless, but some of the more common ones are mentioned in the novel.

Amy’s fear of bridges is called Gephyrophobia. Most people know claustrophobia is a fear of small enclosed spaces.

Gephyrophobia is so common in San Diego (whose Coronado Bridge is the number three suicide bridge in the country), that the Virtual Reality Medical Center is well prepared to handle people needing to deal with it.  The 4.3 mile Chesapeake Bay Bridge in Maryland so frightens people that for many years the Maryland Transit Authority had a program where someone else would drive your car over the bridge while you sat in the passenger seat.

In Bridging Two Hearts, Amy develops her phobia of bridges because of something in her past. Rather than deal with that personal issue, she transfers the fear and panic to where it occured: a bridge. Crippled by that fear, she avoided driving over bridges until the opportunity to grow up and get her dream job forced the issue. She had to choose whether to allow her fear to control her or to face it and overcome it.

The genesis for this plot idea came from my own, well-meaning mother’s attempts to keep us out of trouble.

Our two-story house was built on a hill and my lower-story bedroom had a door to access the roomy crawl space. My mother did not want her children playing in there, so she warned us to stay out because “black widow spiders live under there. If one bites you, you’ll die.”

Why would I not believe her?

I was terrified to go under the house and every time she gave me something to store under there, I hurried in and out as fast as possible.

(Until right now, it never occurred to me that an enterprising spider could have slipped under the door. I’m glad I didn’t realize that before!)

Arachnopohiba.

Just like the movie.

(I tried to cure myself of this fear by watching Steven Spielberg’s film one night. I only lasted five minutes before I, literally, ran screaming out of the room.)

When I reached adulthood, any spider spooked me. I’m fanatic about vacuuming spider webs found in the house. But our Connecticut home in the woods sported a lot of Daddy Long Legs  (Pholcidae) who moved in every spring.

“Repeat after me,” my husband said, getting a grip on my shoulders. “The spider is my friend. He eats insects.”

“The spider is my friend.” I did repeat it.

Often.

After awhile, they didn’t bother me as much. But I still vacuumed them up.

“Whenever we’re afraid, it’s because we don’t know enough. If we understood enough, we would never be afraid,”~ motivational speaker Earl Nightingale.

I didn’t want my children to be afraid of every insect with eight legs. I wanted them to recognize spiders as Charlotte, but from a distance.

So, we did a study of spiders and I learned, for the first time, how to recognize a black widow spider, particularly the red infinity symbol on the back of its bulbous body.

I’ve only seen three in my life.

But I stomped on all three immediately.

I can handle spiders better now because I’ve used knowledge to overcome my fears. I used to be afraid to fly, but I overcame that, again, by looking at the situation with rational eyes.

But not all fears and certainly not phobias, can be treated by logic and knowledge as Josh discovered in Bridging Two Hearts.

His teammate needed professional help to deal with a psychological-based phobia brought on by a near-dying incident. The military, as it does in real life, paid for the SEAL to get treatment at a clinic to deal with claustrophobia. He had to deal with that fear or he’d lose his SEAL designator and thus his livelihood.

Sometimes it takes a powerful motive to help us confront our fears and phobias.

But the truth can set us free.

How have you dealt with fear in the past? Were you able to figure out why you feared something? Did learning about what you feared help?

Tweetables:

Dealing with a phobia, or is it just a fear? Click here to tweet

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The list of phobias is endless, but how do you deal with them? Click to tweet

What’s a Guy Romance Novel, Anyway?

Guest blogger: Mr. Romance himself, my husband!

Michelle recently received a review which among positive comments complained her latest novel, Bridging Two Hearts, didn’t have enough romance.

As she was sharing her feelings with me I replied, “Well, what do you expect, you write guy romance.”

She had no idea of what I was talking about. I’m sure she thought I was teasing her.

So what’s a guy romance novel? Don’t expect satisfactory answers from the Internet. Here’s mine:

A guy romance novel is where the male is a knight in shining armor who rescues a damsel in distress.

Preferably he is a misunderstood knight and she a damsel who is also distressing.

So what are common misconceptions what it takes to create a guy romance novel?

1. Sex

2. Violence

3. Male point of view

4. No feelings, all action

5. Wimpy females

These subjects all may be interesting to guys but they don’t make it a romance.

Here’s a list of stories of probable guy romances; Ivanhoe, Harry Potter, Bourne Identity, Romancing the Stone, Dear John, and Twilight (much disagreement on this last one).

What do they have in common?

1. Strong men who protect, save, and guard the spunky females.

2. The men are frequently misunderstood but their true qualities come forth when tested.

(I cannot overstate how important this is to guys! All guys fear they are geeks and dream they could be heroic.)

3. The heroine usually doesn’t even like her knight but comes to love him in the end.

4. The heroine’s feelings are hidden or muted. Often feelings are shown versus thought about or discussed. Think her loving gaze, etc.

If my two lists are valid, it might explain why Twilight gets such mixed reviews. Most guys don’t want to be “sparkly.”

My personal favorite guy romance author was Jane Austin. Note how she fits well into the above. All guys want to be a Mr. Darcy to some clever Elizabeth Bennett.

So what makes Bridging Two Hearts a “guy romance?”

We start with a strong alpha-male: Josh is a Navy SEAL and the guys on his team look up to him. He takes definitive action to protect our heroine Amy. He even recognizes her role at the start of the book:

“What caught his attention were her hands. They shook despite the death grip on the seat in front of her. Was this a damsel in distress or what?”

When he tries to tease her out of her fears, she misunderstands him. Amy accuses him of tormenting her. She even shoves a tasty passion fruit gelato cone into his face!

As for Josh, he keeps wondering if she really likes him and is delighted, he thinks, when he overhears an accomplice confirm his hopes.

Because of their sparking, they both find a way to deal with their fears and emotions in a heart-ful, romantic way.

Just like Elizabeth and Darcy.

So what do you think makes a guy romance story? What are your favorites?

How do you Demonstrate Unreliability?

Long ago, one of my husband’s classmates was in a minor automobile accident after an evening spent bowling. He swerved to miss something and ended up in a ditch. The police pulled the car out but detained him. He’d had a few too many beers.

I didn’t think much of it thirty-some years ago until my husband wondered if the ensign would be thrown out of the Navy’s nuclear power program.

“Over a minor accident that didn’t damage anything? Why would it make a difference?” I wasn’t excusing drunk driving, I’m not even sure he was at the limit.

“Demonstrated unreliabilty,” my ensign replied. “We don’t take chances with people who like to push the rules. In the nuclear world you need to be perfect because the danger–politically as well as physically–is so high.”

That was my introduction to “demonstrated unreliabilty”–a person’s choices and actions demonstrating they could not be trusted.

The thinking went, if this individual could not control himself in an obvious and simple situation–his wife could have driven–how will he behave in a crisis situation or one where more is at stake than a potential auto accident?

Military members understand the need to be able to depend on somone–no matter the circumstances. Someone who demonstrates unreliability, whether in drinking, munitions, operating a power plant or personally, is someone whom you cannot count on when the chips are down. Do you want to leave your life in that person’s hands in a dangerous situation?

Jesus talked about this concept in Luke 16:10 when he said, “he who is faithful in little is also faithful in much; and he who is unjust in little is unjust also in much.”

Your mother probably told you, “actions speak louder than words.”

Perhaps your father warned, ”watch what they do, not what they say.”

In Bridging Two Hearts, Amy’s relationship with men was compromised when the one man she should have trusted–her father– abandoned her on a bridge. She struggled to trust men after learning as a child that a person’s word wasn’t necessarily good–that they may not follow through on what they promised. Her father demonstrated his unreliability and his “betrayal” colored her life.

Her attitude toward Josh, a Navy SEAL, changed, however, when he assumed responsibility for her safety the first time he drove her car. He checked out the features, kicked the flattening tire, held the door open for her and made sure someone knew where she was when she rode with him.

By so doing, he demonstrated his reliability, which caused her trust in him to grow.

We live in a society where people don’t honor their commitments; indeed, where many of us don’t RSVP, perhaps to keep our options open, perhaps because we don’t want to be held accountable for a yes or a no.

While not RSVPing may not seem as big an issue as driving while intoxicated or not operating a nuclear power plant to spec, is it that little a thing?

What is our word really worth?

How do we demonstrate our reliability?

Do You Have a Need to Know?

Public Domain

For 20 years I held a security clearance with the United States Navy. Not because I was in the Navy, though I had an ID card, but because I was married to someone in the Navy. I needed to have a clearance so I could know when he was coming and going.

Loose Lips Sink Ships, as the World War II warning went, though in our case that wasn’t such a bad thing since he sailed on a submarine.

Still, my clearance did not authorize me to know everything, and it always came down to a simple question: “Do you have a need to know?”

Not a want, but a need.

Many years ago when my husband attended nuclear prototype training in Ballston Spa, New York, I applied for a job at the local newspaper. The editor reviewed my clips and studied me before asking what a girl from California was doing in upstate New York.

His eyes gleamed when he heard why we lived in the tiny town. “I’ll tell you what. You get me any story out of that nuclear power plant and I’ll hire you.”

“I can’t do that.” I hadn’t been married long, but I knew I could not betray my husband that way.

He shrugged and turned away. “Your choice.”

I edited a book instead.

My father served in the Navy during the Korean War and liked to tell the story about how he ended up with a highly classifed clearance. “I was in the radio room when a special code came through,” he laughed every time. “Since I overheard it all, they had a choice: throw me out of the Navy or raise my classification. I got a raise.”

That’s what he said, but he also liked to tell stories of escorting caskets across the country to bereaved families–a Lieutenant?– so it’s hard to know what really happened.

Regardless, it’s an honor to be trusted with secrets and not one that should be taken lightly. In the mid-1980s, the operational tempo of my husband’s submarine changed and many of our friends wore concerned looks on their puzzled brows. I later learned the Soviets suddenly could detect our previously undetectable submarines. What happened?

Family of spies–the Walker family sold out submarine technology for a mere $1 million dollars–mostly to squander on a house and jewelry.

Astonishing, submariners sold the technology that put their shipmates, as well as my husband’s, life at risk for a paltry sum compared to what your government spent to develop it.

Loose lips nearly sank a lot of ships in a terrible betrayal.

I thought about this often as I worked on Bridging Two Hearts. I’ve already written about my experience trying to obtain information, but I was surprised at how readily people in Coronado talked about Navy SEALs, though rarely about operations. Everyone knew where SEALs liked to hang out, where you could find them exercising, where they trained, and often could point out men who probably were SEALs.

Perhaps they spoke more readily to me because I’m a member of the “Navy club,”and I “spoke” their language,  but no one asked me for my ID. Only one person asked me who I was–the owner of the local pub where ”they” often can be found. I left him my business card. I did not flash my ID.

But I had my military ID with me. I also had my retired Navy guy with me.

US Navy official photo

Long ago, word came down the boat call tree as a warning to us. “If the Skipjack wives don’t stop talking about maneuvers in the commissary, we’ll revoke all their clearances

and you’ll only know when you men are coming home when they call you from the dock.”

“We” (used generically, certainly not me) knew better and shut up. You didn’t discuss ships movement on the telephone. You didn’t chat with your friends in public. You didn’t even tell the children. I used to mark a fictitious date on the calendar the boys crossed off waiting for Daddy to come home. A week or two out from what I knew to be the approximate date. When he showed up “early,” the boys were thrilled.

They really didn’t have a need to know.

Are you surprised by “secrets” you read about in the paper–things that really shouldn’t be discussed? Why do you suppose many people want to know things they really don’t have a need to know?

The Joy of a Spa Visit–Even for a Dog

Here’s Suzie just in from a “spa” treatment at Petco.

She’s twelve-years old and has been blind for over two years. Her muzzle is turning white, she walks tentatively, has picked up weight, has digestive issues and is as sweet as can be.

Most of her days are spent on her bed or begging to be let in and out the sliding door. Occasionally she raises her nose to the sky and sniffs for that pesky squirrel who likes to torment her.

Suzie also trots on the deck hunting the source of that pungent odor she’s been sprayed with a couple times, resulting in a coke and deodorizing shampoo bath.

Fortunately, that hasn’t happened recently.

But we’re in the middle of a dry winter and she’s feeling her age. Her coat looked ratty, her nails scratched and her poor tail really needed a trim. The pretty girl just wasn’t herself these days.

I’m feeling her age, too, and when I finished writing my latest novella today (The Gold Rush Christmas) and sent it off to the editor, I decided she deserved the spa treatment I usually reserve for myself after completing a project.

What girl doesn’t like a little pampering?

Indeed, what hard working girl couldn’t use a massage to loosen the tight muscles and restore blood flow into restricted areas?

That’s why Amy works at the Hotel del Coronado in my recent novel Bridging Two Hearts. A soft-hearted young woman who likes to make people feel better, she uses her massage skills to ease some of the tension her clients carry. The aromatherapy,  soft music, cool cucumber water and dimmed lights all serve to relax clients at the spa. For some women, a day at the spa is the only time they have to themselves and they make the most of it.

While doing research at the Hotel del’s spa, I finished my massage with a visit to a swirling jacuzzi pool and then lounged beside a gorgeous blue infinity pool with a view of the wide Coronado beach. I relaxed on a white chaise longe, sipped a cool drink, and read a book for an hour. My body felt loose, warm, comfortable, and flush. Refreshed.

On that February day, I felt like I could conquer the world if I ever found the will to stand up again.

On this February day, Suzie trotted out of Petco, trotted mind you, with her beautiful trail now plumed and waving. She didn’t haul her girth like a sack of potatoes, but stood straighter and freer once more. With her teeth cleaned, she smiled and turned her sightless eyes to greet the afternoon. Her nails didn’t click and her fur looked glossy and smooth.

The spa had rejuvenated her, for at least this afternoon!

And then she returned to her comfortable bed by the fire.

What do you like to do when the winter doldrums settle in and you feel lethargic?

Ahh, the Need for a Massage

Wikipedia Commons

One of the best parts about writing a book featuring a massage therapist as the heroine, is I had to have a massage “for research.”

In January (thank you Montecito Heights Spa)

in February (thank you, Hotel del Coronado Spa)

and in March (thank you, Coldwater Creek Spa).

I’d had massages before of course, here in California but also in China, Hungary, Nicaragua and most recently in Mexico.

It’s been my treat when I’ve finished a manuscript–all that sitting at the computer causes the muscles to get very sore and a massage can loosen up and ease the knots.

While a massage may sound like a decadent activity for pampered women, in reality it has medicinal purposes and can be a life saver for some professions.

One writer friend has a regularly scheduled massage each month. She needs it to keep up the long hours at her computer.

One of our friends is a music conductor and all that conducting has wreaked havoc in his upper back. He required a regular massage so he could perform his job.

Massage enables the fluids in the body to move more easily. It breaks up the fibers that can cause a lack of suppleness in muscle.

It can help relax a tired body and rejuvenate a sore one. Many professional athletes travel with their own personal massage therapists.

I’ve appreciated every massage I’ve had (well, the Hungarian one was a little tense), but I never thought about it from the point of view of the massage therapist until I wrote Bridging Two Hearts.

In the interest of that research, I approached the three spas and asked for a therapist who would describe what they were feeling and thinking as they worked on my body–usually my upper back and shoulders.

A massage therapist is there to serve the client–but they don’t usually talk much, generally playing quiet soothing music in a dim room. But all three were willing to talk about their job, often using analogies to help me better perceive what they were feeling.

The women understood how the body functions and the way muscles work. When I asked them to describe what their fingers felt while working out a knot, their spoke of a hardness that seemed to be hollow. The more they pushed and rubbed, the more the “hollowness” moved until it would just smooth out to flat muscles and the client’s knot would disappear.

One therapist described it like this:

I’m working, “layer by layer—softening up the muscle like tenderizing meat. It’s like gristle in steak. You kind of push your way through it and it feels like you’re pressing on something. And then you feel it kind of go and your finger can go in a little deeper. You feel yourself being able to get deeper, deeper, deeper and then you’re at the core, almost touching the bone.”

“You listen to the client’s breathing, making sure you’re in tune with them and what they’re feeling. . . if they start to tense up, you need to back off.”

This particular therapist got into massage therapy after an injury. She believes her experience helps her better serve her clients.

“Knowing pain, knowing how my own body feels and then being able to put myself into their position, makes me empathetic toward people. I almost feel how other people are feeling when they get distracted from pain.”

I always request extra work on my back and upper shoulders during a massage, to counterbalance the writing stressors. That never surprises the therapists who’ve helped me. “Women tend to carry tension in their upper shoulders and back,” one therapist explained.

Interestingly, my husband also sits at a computer all day long, but the one time he has a massage, he didn’t feel much different.

“What about your upper back?” I could believe it.

“No problem.”

Well, that settled that problem. I’m the only one who needs a massage in this household!

Have you had a massage? Did you like it? (Do you sit at a computer all day long?)

Valentines Day–and Unusual Meetings

When I met the beautiful model in Budapest and looked at her avant gaarde artist husband, I asked the obvious question. “How did you meet him?”

“I sent this text,” my outlaw laughed. (Outlaws are your in-law’s relatives) “But it went to Gabor instead of my boyfriend.”

She batted her eyelashes at him and he smiled.

“He replied that it had come to the wrong person but said I sounded interesting. I giggled and sent another. He answered it.”

They texted all day long and into the next day.

“Finally, he said he thought he was falling in love and that we should meet. We had coffee the next day and we’ve been together every since. Ten years.”

“Does that happen often in Hungary?” I asked, laughing with them both.

“We’re the only ones I know.”

One friend, long ago, stopped to tour the first atomic submarine, the USS Nautilus, moored at a New York City dock and open for visitors. The Officer of the Deck took one look at Barb and invited her out to dinner.

They’re still married some 50+ years later.

I love the serendipity of that story as well as the Hungarian outlaws. People minding their own business, having no idea everything was about to change because of a whimsical decision or error.

In my novel Bridging Two Hearts, a woman terrified of driving over the Coronado Bridge rides the bus to work. She meets a group of Navy SEALs and one takes an inexplicable shine to her. And so their romance, and the book, are launched.

It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m curious about other unusual meetings. We have several friends who joined dating services, met their blind date and cancelled all their other dates. Both couples were married within months.

They’re still married 31 and 19 years later.

Friends have met their spouses in Bible studies, working on submarines (he was the officer, she a pipe fitter), through siblings,  at parties, in bars, and sometimes deliberately.

“I knew I wanted to meet a Navy guy,” one Maryland woman explained long ago. “So I started going to Naval Academy dances with the rest of the girls bused in.” She flashed her big diamond and pointed to the sports car she drove. “I got a good one!”

My niece introduced her boyfriend’s cousin to her cousin (my nephew from another sibling). We attended the wedding last month even though the niece married someone else. (Are you following that? My niece knew both sides of the families well at that wedding!)

Our friend Pam walked into a camera store at lunch one day and met a man who wanted to show her everything in the store. They got married a year later.

Another friend worked at a summer camp and admired the guitar player. He saw her, too. Still wed 30 years later.

“Excuse me,” a beautiful red head said to the tall man, “could I sit here?”

It was the first day of their MBA program. “Sure.” Married seven years.

My own mother had organized a dance at UCLA and approached a line of guys leaning against the wall. “Hey, you need to get out here and dance with the women,” she said.

“Great idea!” My father grabbed her arm and danced away with her. 42 years until death parted them.

My mother-in-law was roller skating around a rink in Chicago not long after the end of World War II. She saw a sailor and invited him to join her. They were married 38 years until she died.

“You should come play volleyball at my church,” my neighbor said. “We’re going into high school and you need to meet some guys. We’ve got cute ones at our church.”

I noticed a lanky guy erecting the net when we arrived. He wore plaid shorts, a purple shirt and green socks. His hair was pretty shabby.

Cute guys?

“He’s either really strange or very smart,” I thought.

Still smart after 35 years of marriage!

In honor of Valentine’s day, how did you meet your honey?

Shoulders of Stone and a Chinese Treatment

Wikipedia Commons

I was on a business trip to China with my brother and we had spent the day touring an electronics factory. The factory managers, who had never met my brother before, were a  nervous. Business customs required them to entertain this foreign visitor.

But he has his sister with him.

Normally, they’d take the guest to a bar and all get rip roaring drunk. They didn’t particularly enjoy those outings, because that made it tough to get up for work in the morning.

But this guy had his sister with him and she didn’t look the part.

What to do?

The three engineers joined us for dinner at the hotel. One brought his pretty wife. We tried to share stories about our lives: all four Chinese hosts were startled my brother and I both had four children. I had photos, everyone else used their cell phone to display family pictures.

After dinner, they loaded us into a van and drove through dark streets, narrowly missing bicycle riders whose bike lamps were out. (“It’s because they worry the battery will lose its charge,” sighed one engineer. “Of course not using the battery is the worst thing they could do.”). The van squeezed into a small parking area in front of a neon-lit club.

I followed along, having no idea what was happening, past the gambling scenes and up a swirling flight of stairs into a small room crowded with seven beds. They indicated I should sit down.

My brother “you are two meters tall, Glenn,” raised his eyebrows at me and grinned. He sprawled across the first bed.

I sit gingerly on the edge of the second, my knees pressed tight together and wondered what we had gotten into. What did Glenn know about these people anyway? He’d found them on the Internet.

The three engineers and the wife entered, giggling, lounged on the other beds and someone closed the door. They chatted in Chinese and I looked about the darkened room, holding my hands as still as possible.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen, do you?”Glenn smirked.

I may be only 1. 5 meters tall, but I am the older sister. I sat up straight. “I’m sure you’ll protect me no matter what.”

He laughed.

Seven small Chinese women dressed in pink smocks over white shirts and slacks entered carrying identical buckets. They knelt before each of us and indicated we should take off our shoes.

“Mrs. Michelle, you know this?” the chief engineer asked.

Mystified, I shook my head and took off my shoes and socks. The small woman kneeling before me slipped my feet into her bucket of warm water and within minutes, I leaned back to savor a lovely foot massage.

Perfect after a long flight from California.

Everyone in the room except me chatted (Two meters tall Glenn speaks a little Chinese) and I finally relaxed.

Had I ever had a massage before?

“Once, after I finished writing a book.” I indicated my shoulders. “They get very sore.”

After a flurry of discussion, the tiny foot masseuse indicated I should get up. She stood on the bed and began to knead my shoulders.

She said something and everyone laughed.

“Mrs. Michelle, she says you have shoulders like stone.”

She spoke the truth–I’ve since learned that women carry tension in their shoulders and I certainly was tense that night!

But the tiny woman’s strong hands relaxed the sore muscles in my shoulders and when the evening was done, my brother and I were more than glad to have missed a night of alcohol (as were our hosts).

A massage was a much better way to entertain western guests–and boy, did we sleep well that night!

Have you ever had a massage in a foreign country? What was that like?

The Skullduggery Involved in Writing about Navy SEALs

When I began researching Navy SEALs for my novel Bridging Two Hearts, I began at my local military recruiting  center. I stood at the locked entrance and picked up a red phone to call in with  my name and reason for visiting (since I obviously was not a candidate for  enlistment). A camera overhead moved to settle on me and I pretended I didn’t  care.

The receptionist sailor introduced me to a woman “chief”–a dive officer  who had a large photo of herself in a diving bell posted on the wall behind her  desk. I explained that as a retired Navy wife, I had spent twenty years of my  marriage without a need to know things I didn’t need to know, therefore, I  didn’t have a problem with not needing to know important details about SEAL  operations.

She smiled.

As did every military person I explained this to over the next several  months.

But, she explained, she could not give me any SEAL details and I  understood that. Instead, she picked up a hot pink post-it note and wrote a name  and a phone number. I should call “Steve” and he could give me  information.

When “Steve” answered my call, I heard the click of pool balls in the  background along with what sounded like a sip from a glass. You can envision “Steve’s” surroundings as well as I did!

I explained who I was–that I was writing a story about Navy SEALs and I  just needed background information about the domestic side of SEAL life. I’ve  read enough memoirs, I understood how grim their lives were, and I did not need  any information about operations.

“Where did you get my number?” “Steve” demanded.

I explained about the chief at Navy recruiting.

“I’ve been shut down,” he muttered. “I can’t say anything. I can’t help  you.”

I went through my line about not needing to know and he  snickered.

“Well, try this name and number. He’s a PAO (Public Affairs Officer) and  maybe he can help you.”

I dialed “Dave’s” phone number–it had an area code from the Bay  Area.

This office sounded more efficient, but “Dave,” too, had a terse  question: “Where did you get this phone number and my  name?”

I tried to remain professional and explained about “Steve” in Sonoma County, and “Dave” relaxed.

He didn’t give me a lot of information, “I can’t discussion current  operations,” but he did provide me  with an appropriate age for my hero and what he would have covered in his  military “pipeline.”

That helped.

“But you know,” he said, “I can’t imagine anything more ridiculous than  a romance novel about a Navy SEAL. They have like a 90% divorce rate.” Any woman would be foolish to get  involved.

I gasped and wrote down his statistic.

(I’ve since read the divorce rate for special forces personnel ranges  from 80-96%. I need to go on record that one statistic is NOT true of all  marriages, but the high rate is significant. It’s also important to note the  military understands the stressors constant operational tempo places on families  and marriages. They provide retreats, counseling opportunities and support.  Everyone’s situation is different. See my web page for links to military marriage resources.)

“Dave” wanted to know more about me–who I was and what I was  investigating. We exchanged emails.

Of course, by virtue of being married to a military officer, I had a security clearance in years past if only to know when to pick him up from  work.

From there, I spent time on the SEAL board, read  memoirs and histories, interviewed a few navy friends and discovered disquieting facts about their lives. A sobering job,  defending the United  States with your bare hands.

A week after my phone call with Dave, I noted a mysterious Naval intelligence  officer is now following me on twitter . . .

What better way to start writing a story about clandestine activities than with a mystery?

Bridging Two Hearts, by the way, releases today!

Have you ever run into anything odd while trying to obtain information?

OR

What do you make of that possible divorce rate? 

Meanwhile–

If you are contemplating marriage to a military member, please get pre-marital counseling and discuss the issues. If you are in a military marriage and having difficulties, consider visiting your base chaplain. The military has set up programs to help couples deal with marriage issues. Examine these websites: National Military Family Association for marriage enrichment information. Marriage Encounter has a military “division.” The base chaplains can access CREDO programs to help. Real Warriors.net also can provide a list of helps.

I’m a Navy wife like many of you. You’ve got an ombudsman, a CO’s wife and a host of women in the same “boat.” Please, you’re not alone and we’re trained and we want to help.

Four Great Books About Military–Domestic–Life

My husband spent the first twenty years of our marriage as a serving naval officer. He was a submariner and we had the good fortune (thank you, American taxpayers) to live in all four corners of the United States and Hawai’i.

When he attended basic submarine school, the command invited the wives to spend a day learning about our husband’s career. Unlike most of my peers, I did not marry a graduate of the United States Naval Academy. (Or, as my husband liked to say, he attended a “real university” not a “trade school.”). While my father had been a naval officer during Korea, I had no practical experience with Navy life. So this was exciting.

We played with the equipment, stared up the dive tower, experimented with controlling ballast and had several talks from senior naval officers and even a seasoned navy wife. It was highly informative.

But also shocking.

One admiral came in to address our room full of twenty-something women, most of whom had been married less than two years. “The most important thing you can do to become a good navy wife,” he said, “is to learn how to become a widow.”

An understandable gasp went up. We were married to handsome, daring, (tired) strong men in their youthful prime. Death?

He had been the CACO (Casualty Assistance Call Officer) when the USS Thresher sank to crush death during sea trials. He was just as traumatized as the widows when he returned from his visits.

“Too many of those women didn’t know anything about real life,” he explained. “They didn’t know how to balance a check book, how to get the car repaired nor how to take care of themselves without their husbands. Do us all a favor and learn how to be independent.”

Independence has always been a hallmark of navy wives. His charge surprised me. But, like a good researcher, I went to work. Here are four books I found very helpful in my navy wife “career.”

Lynn Caine’s Widow.

Hey, this was a long time ago and her book was a best seller at the time. From Widow,  I took a salient point I have shared countless times since.

The point of the first year of widowhood is to survive.

Just get through it and don’t do anything rash. Whatever you do, if you can avoid it, make no big decisions. Just get through that first year and at the end, take a vacation far from home and think about what you really want to do with your life. You’re too emotionally vulnerable that first year and you don’t want to do anything that cannot be undone.

James and Sybil Stockdale’s In Love and War.

Oh, my, what an example Sybil Stockdale provides of a smart, accomplished woman who held her family together while her husband spent seven years in a Viet Nam POW camp! She was my role model!

Remain focused on what’s important: your children and your husband. Keep your skills up so you can support your family if need be, but stay true and loyal. Be firm and respectful, but stick to the plan you and your husband put together in case “the worst” happens.

We developed a plan of what I would do if my husband never came back. (Thanks be to God, we never had to use it!)

Thomas Allen and Norman Polmar’s Rickover: Controversy and Genius When my husband became the chief engineer of the oldest submarine in the Atlantic Ocean, I knew I needed to understand the influences on his job, and thus his and my life.

It’s insightful to learn about how your husband’s ultimate boss thought and his work ethic. It made a difference and helped me on nights when he simply could not come home becasue the boat (and its nuclear reactor) needed him. The good admiral’s attitude toward his personal life made me understand what he expected of my husband. (See my post, however, on his wonderful wife, Eleonore.)

Brats: Children of the American Military Speak Out by Mary R. Truscott. This book was important later, as I raised children in a military life style. I hadn’t really thought through the consequences of moving every four years on their sense of “normal.”

I did a lot of reading about how to raise my children in their challenging environment. One of the most interesting points from this book dealt with post-military life: Children get used to the “rhythm” of military life and even after growing up tend to feel a need to make a major change every three or four years–whether it be where they live, what they do, what they drive, or where they take a vacation: think big trip.

Oh, that explains a lot.

Other books have helped me in other ways, but these four were significant. What books have helped you understand YOUR life better?