Speechless in Japan

June has been a bipolarish, agony/ecstasy month that's left me speechless (almost) (so far).  I've been basking in the blinding glow of seeing my three children together for the first time in nearly two years, doubling over in laughter at their hilarious wit, and finding them a welcome diversion from the inane antics of an outgoing Navy base regime which is drifting uncomfortably close to Totalitarianism.

This past weekend a tragic car accident in the Pacific Northwest resulted in the death of a special friend, Bob Goodwin, and the hospitalization of dear Bridget, Christopher (7), and Paul (2).  They were looking forward to returning to Japan this summer.  Bob was going to be the Senior Medical Officer on the USS Blue Ridge and Bridget and the boys were going to drag me to the Anpanman Museum at regular intervals.  It was Christopher who introduced me to Anpanman three years ago.  Need I say more?

If there is such a thing as crippling empathy, I have it.  In spades.

Machida Shrine Sale: The Rewards of Sucking It Up

Truth be told, I didn't much feel like going to Machida this morning to explore the shrine sale and five-story 100 Yen store. Three Explorers cancelled out of the trip Sunday evening and spending the day with a recent acquaintance and two complete strangers was not appealing. With the Ancient Mariner packing his gear for a 12-day "quality of life" deployment and the temperature dropping by the minute, I was tempted to crawl back under that warm comforter, wallow in self-pity, and savor another chapter or two of Guns, Germs, and Steel.

But, promises being promises, I sucked it up and marched out the door at the ungodly-to-me hour of 7:20 am.

So. The two complete strangers turned out to be a married couple who arrived in Japan a few days ahead of us this past July, shortly after he completed nurse practitioner training. Six days from now he will be enroute to Afghanistan as an Individual Augmentee. His wife and youngest son will remain in Japan, awaiting his return a half year from now.

His mission this week is to connect his wife with people who will support her and distract her during his absence. She'd like to spend some time exploring since, with three small boys underfoot, she didn't have many opportunities to do that the last time they were stationed here. He pulled me aside to confide that she's not comfortable with computers. "I am deafer than a rock," I whispered (I think) back, "and avoid the phone like the plague but I'm willing to make an exception in her case."

They met when he was a 21-year old sailor stationed in San Diego and she was a 16-year old student at a boarding school in Tijuana. They started dating when she turned 18. During his entire Navy career, they have only spent three months apart. Until next week, that is.

As if spending the day with such a remarkable couple was not reward enough for dragging myself out of bed this morning, the shrine sale blessed me with a bobble-head Kimono Peko-chan and two old Fujiya lunch boxes. The five-story 100 Yen store did not disappoint either.

Somewhere around here there's a moral to this story, but I'm going to crawl under that comforter now and wallow for a while.

Thanks All the Same But I'd Prefer a Christmas Card

The National Military Family Association wants me and you to support military families this holiday season by writing a check to -- you guessed correctly -- the National Military Family Association.

This being the Advent Season and all, I would like to just roll my eyes and launch that solicitation into Cyberspace Purgatory but this is the second time this year NMFA has made my blood boil and I have run out of cheeks to turn.

Last spring NMFA incensed me by gleefully announcing that TriWest Healthcare Alliance would sponsor their gala annual party. In their own words, TriWest Healthcare Alliance is a privately held, Phoenix-based corporation that contracts with the Department of Defense to administer the military health care entitlement in the 21-state West Region. TriWest is monitored by the TRICARE Management Authority, a department within the DoD.

"We take pride in the fact that managing the TRICARE program for over 2.7 million beneficiaries is our only line of business."

If TriWest's only line of business is managing the TRICARE program, shouldn't one assume their only source of income is that juicy DoD contract? If that is the case, perhaps the National Military Family Association, an organization purporting to advocate for military families, could advocate for me and my loved ones by questioning how TriWest can legally and morally channel taxpayer dollars earmarked for medical care to underwrite a social function on the other side of the country.

I am baffled that I never hear anyone else complaining about stuff like this. Am I the only Navy spouse who isn't hoping her husband lands a job with TriWest when he retires from military service? Ladies, I have news for you: former Congressional staffers and retired Army doctors have a tight grip on the keys to that executive suite.

If you feel inclined to support military families this holiday season, I'd recommend you expend a little time rather than money. In 30 seconds or less you can say a prayer for someone's son, daughter, brother, or sister who will be waking up in Afghanistan or Iraq on Christmas morning. In 5-10 minutes you can write a note to a family whose soldier or sailor won't be able to make it home this holiday season or a family that will never see their loved one again. In two or three hours you can babysit the children of a deployed sailor or soldier while the frazzled young parent finishes her/his holiday shopping (or reads a book or takes a nap uninterrupted).

I favor people power over government programs. Thanks for listening even when you totally disagree with me.