“If a sailor was meant to have a family, he would have been issued one with a sea bag.”Most of my twenties were spent as a Naval Officer’s wife. It was a complete test of endurance and independence. I was a single mother of three children under the age of three for three of those years. There were three different duty stations in the first year, Pensacola, Denver, and San Diego.
My twenty-month-old son, Marshall, and I managed to rent a car and an apartment after flying alone to Pensacola. We became adept at maneuvering around the base, finding the Naval Hospital, shopping at the commissary and the Navy Exchange. Our mornings were spent at the gorgeous, powdery white sand beach, building sand castles and swimming in the warm turquoise water. After a nap, we’d drive over to the Naval Air Station to walk around the jets. Marshall, who pulled his little Fisher Price “Busy” airplane everywhere, taught himself to salute adults in uniforms, especially the Marine guards at the entry gate, the response was very gratifying for him.
I attended Naval Officer wife training at NAS Pensacola, which included learning the meaning of thousands of acronyms, military phonetic alphabet, military time, and recognition of rank and uniforms. White gloves were no longer required but calling cards were still a must. I was grateful for my strict parents and their concentration on formal manners. I knew all about the necessity of a silver salver (the word salve is French for a tray presenting objects to the King) for calling cards in the foyer of one’s home.
Our second duty station was in Denver at a joint command for additional training. My family in Wyoming visited often, which was wonderful. I gave birth to my daughter, Jenny at Fitzsimmons Army Medical Hospital in February. Two hours after giving birth, I was doing calisthenics with other postpartum Moms in the Maternity Ward’s lobby. The maternity ward was a solarium with floor-to-ceiling windows that was built for recovering tuberculosis patients. The dry Colorado air and vitamin D from the sunlight were beneficial for the lungs. For the two days in the hospital, I changed my own sheets, carried my own tray from the cafeteria, and twice a day, I pushed Jenny’s bassinet to the nursery before the required exercise classes. I was delighted to be discharged, I couldn’t wait to get home and get some rest. I was however, able to walk out of the hospital in my pre-pregnancy jeans with a hospital bill for ten dollars stamped, paid-in-full.
The Naval Air Station North Island in San Diego was going to be our home for three years. Three gigantic aircraft carriers were practically (three blocks away) in our backyard, living bayside on Coronado. Coronado was the perfect town for families. We could ride bikes or walk everywhere. Many of our days were spent at the public beach or on the base swimming at the Officer’s Club pool. Marshall at two and a half, would ride his tricycle on the back patio having in depth conversations with his imaginary friend. We became close friends with our civilian neighbors, the houses on most streets were old beach cottages that were built very close together. We were thrilled to be reunited with Navy friends from Pensacola and Denver.
I was elected secretary of the Navy Wives Club and one of my duties was writing the monthly newsletter. I bought my first electric typewriter and I quickly remembered how much I had enjoyed my typing classes in high school and college. I would spend a few evenings a month, after the children were asleep, listening to music on the stereo, while typing the newsletter. When I finished, I would make copies, individually stamp, then mail the newsletter to each member. During each six month deployment, the commanding officer’s wife was the lifeline to the wives, she would give us all the “news” of the ship via a “phone tree.” Wine and cheese parties were another form of fellowship and information gathering amongst the wives. My fellow Navy wives taught me about string cheese and wine coolers, life was good.
During the three years in Coronado I began volunteering one day a week for the Naval Relief Society. I worked directly with Sailors and their families providing assistance for unexpected and emergency needs. I was lucky to have found a great babysitter so I looked forward to getting out of the house, knowing that my two small children were well taken care of.
After two years, we moved to the Naval Amphibious Base Coronado Officer’s housing. Ours was a duplex with a Navy Seal and his family living next door. The Navy Seal and his kids were fond of repelling off the roof of their house at sunrise, wearing combat boots and khaki uniform swimsuits. We would be greeted every morning with Reveille, a lone bugle call that signals the start of duty on Military bases. Taps was played at 2100 hours (9:00) to indicate “lights out”. If outside during Reveille or Taps, children and adults alike would face the flag and pause, respectively.
I joined the YWCA in downtown San Diego after learning that it offered exercise classes for pregnant women. The class was taught by a member of the Sikh community and included yoga, kick-boxing, and meditation. I felt better than I ever had during my first two pregnancies. I made the decision to give birth at a birthing center in La Jolla after taking The Bradley Method of Childbirth classes. My labor and delivery were short, three hours total. Unlike my military hospital birth, I was pampered in my private suite for my short stay with my third child.
With three children in tow, my family moved to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. My life was an absolute dream, the weather was perfect, I enjoyed every day, swimming, riding my bike, running, horseback riding, and eating delicious food, with dear friends. At age twenty eight while training for the Ironman triathlon, I found out that I was pregnant with my fourth child. It was a brutally hot summer and I was suffering with morning sickness when my two youngest children got the chicken pox. Eventually, we all felt one hundred percent again and were able to swim and ride bikes. I gave birth to my baby girl at home with two nurse midwives in attendance. Four months later we moved to Virginia.
Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling.
