Saturday, March 10, 2012

The Private Life

Picture for a moment nasty women wearing combat boots. Suddenly images of Goldie Hawn in Private Benjamin pop into your head (not that Goldie Hawn is nasty – quite the contrary), but if you haven't seen that movie, please treat yourself to it, especially if you need a good laugh (as opposed to a bad laugh, which nobody needs). 

At one time, in my desperate need for money, I had considered joining the Navy (go ahead – laugh – but you'll laugh even more when you discover that the reason I would have chosen the Navy was because I liked the way their uniforms looked). I couldn't leave my baby, though, (at the time I had only one child) so I had to consider other options.

Just recently one of my granddaughters, in contemplating a way to financially help her family, considered joining the Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines, but decided instead to work at my youngest daughter's upscale consignment boutique and to sell Scentsy. Perhaps we all give joining the service a thought at some point during our lives, and many actually join.

I was not one of them. I would never have made good naval material due to the physical exertion the Navy would have required of me. With absolutely no upper body strength whatsoever, I would have whined like Goldie Hawn's character, Pvt. Judy Benjamin. I doubt seriously that I would have made it through basic training anyway – convertible handbags to backpack, comfortable beds to bunk – or maybe even ground – no thank you – I'd have been begging to go home.

IF (big IF) I had somehow made it through basic training, I might have improved physically, and I might have earned the right to retire as a high-ranking officer. Today I would be sitting on the back porch of a beautiful home, high on a hill, overlooking a lake, and typing this blog.

I admire our service men and women who stay the course and rise above the grueling, never ending work (special thank you to my Marine son, Greg). 

From my car, as I look upon my console cup holder, my lightweight cooler, and a trunk filled with luggage, I contemplate the life I did not live and thank God that I am not living out of my car – though it looks as if I do while I prepare for a drive across the country with my grandchildren to visit my Marine son (their father). 

When we arrive in Virginia, I might suggest we watch Private Benjamin. I think we all would get a kick out of watching it.

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